“Are you planning revenge? You don’t own a flamethrower or anything, do you?”
Her lips curved. “No. I’m not angry at him, not really. I mean, I’m upset that he chose to tell me now, a week before Christmas, but I’m even more upset that I’m mostly upset about the timing, you know?”
He tried to process her words. He considered himself a fairly intellectual kind of guy and happily read the Journal of Applied Physics for pleasure, but Holly Jones tested his brain more than the most complex scientific theories. “Sort of.”
She smiled sadly. “Sorry. I forget the person I’m talking to isn’t in my head with me. I always assume everyone knows what I’m talking about. Jackson told me it drives him nuts.” She bit her lip.
Noel tipped his head. “It’s true that a conversation with you is rather like solving a Rubik’s Cube. But I like puzzles.”
She smiled then, and even though it was halfhearted, it lit up her face like the fairy lights on the Christmas tree behind her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, why did he end your relationship now?”
She sat back as the waitress brought over their coffees, waiting until the girl had delivered the muffins before leaning forward to open a packet of sugar and stir it slowly into the latte’s milky foam. “I didn’t like the Secret Santa presents they give women at the station.”
“Why? What are they?” he asked, already having an idea. The firefighters he’d met weren’t known for their subtlety.
She shrugged gloomily, looking out the window. “Let’s just say, now that I’m going to be alone at Christmas, I’m starting to have second thoughts about turning it down.”
Noel couldn’t help it—the laugh bubbled up inside him and spilled out, making her look up in surprise. “Sorry,” he said, pulling an eek face. “I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just so incredibly tacky and offensive.”
She sighed heavily and joined him, giving a defeated chuckle. “No, you’re right, it is funny. In a very sad, inevitable kind of way. That wasn’t the reason why we broke up, of course—at least, not the only reason. I think we both knew it was coming, but he was the only one brave enough to voice it.”
Noel sipped his coffee. “What are you going to do?”
She looked out the window again, her eyes taking on that faraway look he knew so well. “I don’t know. His family was supposed to be spending Christmas Day with us. I’ve got most of the food, I’d ordered a huge turkey, bought the mince pies, and made the pudding.”
“Actually, in this case I think Jackson was right,” he said. “Fuck the pudding. I’m sure you can find something more exciting to do than spend Christmas Day entertaining his second cousins once removed.”
She laughed. “You know, you’re not at all what I thought you’d be.”
He took a bite out of the muffin. “What did you think I’d be?”
“Stuffy. Superior.”
He surveyed her with amusement. “I’m a science teacher. Of course I’m stuffy and superior.”
“No, you’re not. Maybe you pretend to be because you think science teachers should be like that. But in reality, you’re a knight in shining armor, rescuing damsels in distress. I’m going to call you Noel the Brave from now on.”
He laughed. “I can cope with that.”
She nibbled on her muffin, still curious. “When’s your birthday?”
“You trying to work out my star sign?”
She gave him a wry look. “I was thinking about your name. I’m guessing you were born around Christmas?”
“Yep. Christmas Day, actually.”
“Do you mind having a Christmas name?”
“Hey, I’m just glad they didn’t call me Rudolph.”
She chuckled. “Mine’s on Boxing Day. Having a Christmas birthday sucks, doesn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of the festive season. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”
“Why don’t you like Christmas? I thought everyone liked Christmas.”
He looked down at his cup, turning it around in the saucer. “My wife died on Christmas Eve.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a moment. Then she reached out and rested her hand on his. “Noel, I’m so sorry. How long ago?”
He sighed. “Three years. We’d only been married a year when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”
“Oh, God, that’s so awful. How absolutely shit for you both.”
He gave a short laugh then, meeting her sympathetic gaze. “Yes it was. Beautifully put.”
Her hand was warm on his. She kept it there for a moment as their gazes met, and he saw the compassion and concern in her eyes. His heart rate increased a little, and he forced himself to look away.
She withdrew her hand and cleared her throat. “So, what are you doing for Christmas? Do you spend it with family?”
“No. My father died when I was young. My mother remarried and lives in the States. I’ve got two brothers but they have their own families and, to be honest, I don’t want to spoil their Christmas by moping about.” He sipped his coffee. “I have a friend who owns a house in Scotland. He’s going away this year and asked if I’d like to house-sit, so I’m going to spend a few days there, eat beans on toast for Christmas dinner, drink copious amounts of Laphroaig whisky, and watch a variety of mindless action movies on DVD until I feel ready to return to the land of the living.”
She smiled. “That sounds wonderful. I envy you, in a way. No pressure to produce the perfect dinner, no need to entertain. No mounds of washing up!”
“Absolutely.” He studied her. “So, what are you going to do this Christmas now that Jackass has left the building?”
She laughed at that. “I don’t know. My parents spend Christmas at a hotel with friends—they won’t want me around. I could go to my sister’s, but she has four kids and…” Holly pulled a face.
“You don’t like kids?”
“I love kids. I don’t like my sister’s kids. They’re completely feral and they hate me.”
He started to laugh. “I’m sure they don’t hate you.”
“They have a voodoo doll of me that they stick pins in. I swear.”
Smiling, he said, “Friends, then? You must have lots of Bridget Jones–style girlfriends you can wail to.”
“Cassie’s going to Spain with her boyfriend. Laura’s still in Australia. And anyway, I’d rather do my wailing to a class of teenagers or complete strangers.” She looked at his shirt. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
He glanced at the patch she’d made damp with her tears. “It’s okay. It’s not every day I get to comfort a beautiful crying woman.”
The words slipped through his internal vetting system, leaving his mouth before he’d had a chance to think about them, and he cursed himself as her eyebrows rose. Now she’d think he was trying to come on to her. Her boyfriend’s just walked out on her, idiot, he scolded himself. That’s not what she needs right now. “You should do something on Christmas Day. You don’t want to turn into an old grouch like me.”
She looked out the window again, her cheeks still slightly pink. Her shoulders slumped as if she’d suddenly remembered the phone call. “I guess I’d better cancel the turkey,” she said absently. She sipped her coffee, still looking out of the window. “It’s supposed to be three feet by Christmas Day.”
He blinked. “The turkey?”
She glanced at him then, smiling wryly. “No, the snow. Sorry. I’d moved on in my head.” Her gaze returned to the wet scene outside. “I guess now I won’t need the Christmas stockings I’d bought.” Her voice was low, wistful.
Noel shrugged. “You never know. Santa might still come, if you’ve been very good.”
She stared at him, then to his complete surprise, turned scarlet. “I didn’t realize I was speaking out loud.”
He studied her, amused. “Why’s that embarrassing? Lots of people buy Christmas stockings.”
“I wasn’t talking about the woolly type you hang o
ver the fireplace.”
He processed that information surprisingly slowly, despite the fact his mother had always insisted his scientific mind was second only to Einstein’s. “Huh.”
“I was trying to spice up our sex life,” she continued. “We hadn’t slept together in months and I thought some sexy underwear might help…” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, God. My lips won’t stop moving. I’m so sorry. I have some sort of deficiency, I swear.”
He was highly amused now—and a little too turned on by the thought of Holly Jones in stockings—but he tried not to smile as he finished his muffin. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I haven’t had sex in three years, so you’re in good company.”
“Yes, but you have a good excuse—you’re in mourning. I don’t know what mine is. We just drifted apart. I don’t know why. I used to like lots of sex.” She went scarlet again as he raised an eyebrow, and then she leaned forward and rested her head on the table. “Oh, God.”
Noel watched her, unable to suppress a chuckle. Suddenly, he had an idea. It was a terrible idea, and he was sure he was going to regret it as soon as he’d said it, but the moment it popped into his head, he knew he had to ask. “You know what you should do for Christmas?”
She sat up, resting her palms on her hot cheeks. “Spend the week sewing my lips together?”
He grinned. “Come to Scotland with me.”
Chapter Two
Holly stared at him. Surely she’d heard wrong. “What?” she asked stupidly. Why did he always make her feel as if he was head of Mensa and she was the forerunner for the role of village idiot?
Noel finished off his coffee and pushed his cup away. “It’s a big house. There are four bedrooms and two living rooms. It’s in the middle of beautiful countryside and it’s guaranteed to snow.”
She blinked at him. It didn’t make sense. He wanted to get away for Christmas—why would he ask her to go with him? Unless… Jeez. She had just talked about stockings and liking lots of sex. What guy wouldn’t get ideas after that sort of conversation?
“It’s not a come on,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “You don’t have to speak to me at all if you don’t want. You can spend the whole weekend in your room, or come and watch DVDs with me and get drunk. I don’t mind. You look like you need a break, that’s all.” He frowned at her smile. “It’s not a proposal or anything.”
“You’re very sweet.”
“I’m really not. I’ll be inebriated most of the time. I’ll probably be obnoxious and insult you and fall into a coma on the sofa.” He picked up his glasses and put them on as she laughed. “Anyway, the offer’s there. We’d better get back now. Are you all right to take period six?”
She stood, surprised, as he retrieved her coat and held it up for her to slip her arms into. “Yes, I’ll be fine, thanks. Wow, you really are an old-fashioned gentleman, aren’t you?”
“It’s the way I was brought up.” He held out his arm. “Allow me to escort you back to school, Miss Jones.”
Laughing, she said, “If we’re going to spend Christmas together, you’re going to have to stop calling me that.”
He looked surprised as he opened the door and popped his umbrella. “You’re coming to Scotland with me?”
She hesitated for a moment on the doorstep. Was she? Did she really want to spend Christmas weekend with a bereaving science nut who was intent on drinking himself into a stupor?
Actually, she thought with surprise, yes, she did. At least, she found the idea of the retreat in Scotland, miles away from Jackson and his family and her lonely house, greatly appealing. And as for Noel, he wasn’t quite the stuffy professor he…well, professed to be. He was actually rather funny. She liked him, and the thought of getting to know him a little better would be nice. As a colleague, of course. Nothing more.
She totally wasn’t going to think about how the hairs on the back of her neck rose up when he looked at her over the top of his glasses.
She stepped onto the wet pavement and placed her hand in the crook of his arm as she ducked out of the incessant rain. “Might as well. We can have a ‘Who’s going to be most miserable on Christmas Day’ competition.”
“I’ll win,” he said. “I win every year.”
“I’m sure I can give you a run for your money.”
“Well, I can drink more than you can.”
“Ha! Don’t bet on it. I’ve been known to drink copious amounts of chardonnay at certain times of the month.”
He snorted. “Malt whisky’s what you need, girl. That’ll put hairs on your chest.”
“My breasts are perfectly nice hairless, thank you very much.”
His lips curved. “Well, thank you for filling my head with that image just as I go into a lesson on voltage and electrical currents.”
“It’s the last day of term,” she said. “Put on a DVD like everyone else, for God’s sake.”
He glanced down at her. “Holly, I’ll say it one last time and then I won’t say it again. I didn’t ask you to Scotland for any other reason than that I thought you could do with somewhere quiet to go.”
“Shucks,” she said. “And there’s me hoping it was for the sex.” His eyes widened, and she squeezed his arm. “Noel, I’m joking. I’ll keep out of your way, I promise. I won’t make a nuisance out of myself.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
“I know. But it’s your retreat—your place to hide when you’re feeling low. I’m not going to intrude on that.”
They walked in silence for a while, listening to the patter of rain on the umbrella. Holly mused on the answer she’d given him as she splashed through the puddles, conscious of the warmth of his arm even through the thick woolen coat. Had she made the right decision? Was she crazy, agreeing to travel all the way up to Scotland with a man she hardly knew to spend a long weekend with him—and Christmas weekend at that?
“Do you like Christmas?” Noel asked.
She thought about it. “Usually I’d say I loved it. I mean, that’s what we’re supposed to say, isn’t it? It’s a magical time of year, a special time to spend with our loved ones.” She sighed. “I have to admit, though, that over the last few years it’s become more of a drudge. A slog of buying presents, making food nobody eats because they’re full, and watching TV programs I hate to placate Jackson because he’s cross I don’t want to go out partying.”
“You don’t like partying?”
“I hate it,” she admitted. It was a relief to say it out loud. “I’m never happier than when I’m at home with a good book, the iPod playing, a glass of white wine in my hand, and a box of Milk Tray at my fingertips.”
He laughed and she glared at him. “What’s funny about that?”
“Nothing at all. Sounds like a perfectly wonderful scenario to me.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Do you like music?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Would you mind if I brought some of my instruments with me? I’d play them quietly, I promise. And if you’d rather I didn’t, I understand—it’s just that Jackson hated me playing and he always—”
“I don’t mind,” Noel interrupted. “Bring whatever you like.”
“Oh. Okay.” She didn’t bother hiding her little smile of pleasure.
He was quiet for another minute. Then he said, “Sounds like you’re well shot of Jackass, anyway.” She looked up at him, and his brow furrowed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say that. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay. You’re right. He is a jackass.”
“Even so. You might end up getting back with him, and then you’ll never talk to me again.”
She shook her head. “I’m done with Jackson,” she said thoughtfully. “If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have dumped me so near to Christmas.”
“He wouldn’t dump you at all,” said Noel. “The guy’s an idiot.”
He didn’t say anything else, and neither did she.
…
All the following
week, Noel wondered what had possessed him to ask an almost complete stranger to travel nine hours in the car with him all the way to Scotland and share his treasured retreat. He was going there to be alone. Inviting someone to go with him kind of defeated the whole idea.
But he hadn’t been able to resist asking Holly. From the moment she’d told him her boyfriend had broken up with her and burst into tears, he was lost. He’d always been a sucker for a crying woman, and a crying pretty woman left him defenseless. Noel the Brave, riding up on his charger to save the damsel in distress. He tried repeatedly to be indignant about her nickname for him, but every time he thought about it, a smile played on his lips.
Still, he worried about the decision. Part of his problem was guilt about Ella. Most of the time, he maintained a matter-of-fact attitude about his wife’s death, trying to convince himself that life goes on, even though he knew he’d yet to come to terms with the reality that he was relatively young and after three years it would be acceptable for him to start dating again. But Christmas was the one time of the year he let himself get sentimental about her. Though her absence haunted him all the time, at Christmas he missed her with a hunger that hurt, and it felt right and just that he spend two or three days in an alcohol-induced haze, playing songs that reminded him of her, remembering special moments from their past.
Somehow, bringing someone else with him for this period felt disloyal, and he kept apologizing to Ella in his head, hoping she wasn’t up there watching him and preparing lightning bolts to throw at him. “I felt sorry for her,” he told his wife on more than one occasion. “That’s all, honest.”
And that was all. He hadn’t asked Holly to go with him for any other reason than he could see she needed to get away somewhere quiet. Did Ella believe him?
He rang Holly to confirm she still wanted to go, not sure whether he wanted her to say yes or no. When she answered, however, from the huskiness of her voice and the pause as she blew her nose, he suspected he’d interrupted her crying again. “Everything all right?” he’d asked.
“Yeah. Jackson’s just been around to pick up the last bits of his stuff.” Another blow of the nose.
Holly’s First Noel Page 2
