Her Surprise Christmas Noel: Four women, one pact: find a date for Christmas (Christmas Kisses Book 2)

by Kenna Shaw Reed

  “Yes, but I still think you should go to the hospital and get that ankle x-rayed.” I didn’t like how he caressed her ankle, but since she winced at each touch, I dismissed it as professional concern.

  With JoJo still protesting the need for a hospital visit, in the same way she hadn’t wanted an ambulance, I excused myself to make a call. Money made things happen. I couldn’t replace her car, at least not today, but there were some strings my connections and money could pull.

  Returning, “If you think she’ll live long enough to get to hospital without being on life support, how about I take her.”

  “Would you?” Tristan sighed with relief, as we talked about JoJo in front of her. “We are banked up with calls and—”

  “Consider it my Christmas gift—or at least my apology for causing this accident.”

  “I don’t need to go to hospital!” JoJo protested as I shook my head, pretending a moment I wore my usual tailored suit rather than derelict appearance.

  “Nonsense. I’ve already got your bags in the back of my car, so it’s no problem.”

  “Don’t you have a schooner of beer with your name on it?”

  “Look at who was paying attention. Let me take you to hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “So I don’t spend all night thinking about you, hoping that the ankle doesn’t turn into a thrombosis and ends up killing you just because you were too stubborn to go to hospital, and I was too chicken livered scared to stand up to you.”

  “Fine.”

  “What?” After her earlier spunk, I couldn’t believe she’d given in so easily.

  “Fine, while I’m hanging around the emergency room for the twelve hours it will take to be seen by a doctor, I’ll figure out what to do.”

  None of my ideas involved spending tonight drinking alone or waiting twelve hours in accident and emergency.

  “Noel, good to see you again, I’m glad you rang. How are your parents and what the hell are you wearing?” Elegant in his tailored white coat, Professor Peter Samire was waiting for us on our arrival to accident and emergency.

  “Thanks, Peter. This is the woman I told you about. Unfortunately, my car decided to careen into hers and while the paramedics have checked her over, I’d appreciate if you could either patch her up properly or give her the all clear.” Ignoring his concern for my parents was as easy as handing over their yearly donations.

  “Certainly, Miss?”

  “Please call me JoJo, but shouldn’t I go through triage?” JoJo had stopped wriggling in my arms but being helpless didn’t mean she couldn’t be a pain in the ass. Complaining about being carried from the car park—even though there was no way she could have walked—and now making a fuss that could only draw attention to the special favor I’d called in.

  “You could, but that would waste time for both of us. Luckily for Noel, I’m the on-call registrar over the holiday period so if you don’t mind following me through to the exam room?”

  Between JoJo’s confusion and the frustration obvious to the less well connected in the crowded waiting area, I didn’t bother trying to find a wheelchair. After carrying JoJo to my car, the ambulance, back to my car and then from the car park to emergency, not only was I getting used to the feel of her in my arms, but she almost felt natural.

  The vanilla scent of her hair. How the blonde highlights were either the most professionally done I’d seen, or natural. How her nose crinkled in pain, but sound rarely reached her lips. No longer even giving out a grimace when I initially picked her up the wrong way—her injured right shoulder into my chest.

  Fool.

  “If you break it, you fix it.” Grandfather’s warnings from childhood.

  If only I could blame having a good upbringing on wanting to see JoJo looked after. And if only I could find an excuse to pull my white-clad friend aside and encourage him to focus on her medical needs, not the other kind.

  I didn’t have the right to get all alpha-male possessive over a woman I’d a only just met and b had almost killed in the process. Okay, killed was a little dramatic, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if my beast of a car and bull-bar had been going at the speed limit instead of twenty kilometres under.

  JoJo

  Waiting for x-rays and nurses to stop asking me about how I knew the great Professor Peter Samire—I didn’t but thanks for asking—I had more time than necessary to recap on all the stupid decisions ending with me in a hospital examination cubicle.

  Injured, but not as bad as it could have been.

  Receiving VIP treatment based on a phone call from the man who looked homeless, sounded elite, but had put me here.

  Literally.

  I became karma’s bitch the moment I agreed to this stupid pact.

  “How do you know the Professor? He seems to have taken a personal interest in you.” Her name badge said Jasmine Walters, but her expression was cool and her age similar to mine.

  “I don’t. Some guy hit me and decided to ruin my Christmas. Getting me to the head of the triage queue was his way of making amends.”

  “Going home for Christmas?”

  “Something like that. Although I don’t think my parents will thank me for turning up alone.”

  “Reminders about biological clock counting down and you shouldn’t be picky?” Nurse Jasmine had me in one.

  “It gets worse.” In the privacy of a cubicle and with no other patients demanding her attention I embraced my willing audience.

  How I loved the Christmases of my childhood. Five-course lunch at home before heading across to West Beach for an afternoon building sandcastles and playing beach cricket with my brothers and all the locals. An unspoken tradition where the suburb became a family and the rules were simple. You couldn’t get out on the first ball and if you hit the ball, you had to run. I loved teasing the boys, hitting the ball back over their heads when they took it easy on me because of my gender. They only made that mistake once, before I got to hit their fastest bowling into the ocean.

  Six and out completely worth it just to prove girls could play cricket.

  And work in engineering.

  And do anything we damn well wanted.

  “Problem is,” I explained to Jasmine’s knowing nods, “I refused to compromise enough to date stupid or play stupid to men who preferred I knew my place.

  “Sounds amazing, so what’s happening this year?” Jasmine asked. I stifled a giggle. Thinking back, it had been all kinds of crazy, but one day we’d all look back on it and laugh. I hoped.

  “My friends and I made a deal, not to go home alone.”

  “How?” My giggles stopped when Jasmine checked the tightness of my shoulder strapping. Damn, that hurt.

  “It was stupid and I’m living to regret it,” I warned.

  “Look at me.” Jasmine was now warm and non-judgmental. “I’m working the next ten days straight and need a good laugh. Don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”

  I took a deep breath, needing to confide in someone and my phone had been mangled in the accident. Without my friends on speed dial, Jasmine could be my perfect audience. “I’ve got less than three days to beg, borrow or buy a guy to introduce as my fake boyfriend for Christmas lunch.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the pact. Each of us had a month to find a date for Christmas. Not a grand love story or even a fling. The deal was to take someone home so our families would get off our case.”

  “Well, there’s two men looking after you that could be up for the challenge.” Jasmine studied me—oh!

  “Your Professor isn’t my type.”

  “And your friend who didn’t want to drop you on the exam table? The hunky guy out there who lowered you so gently onto the table I thought the old matron would have a heart attack.” Jasmine’s teasing didn’t hide her relief.

  “First, he’s not a friend. Second, I doubt his guilt is bad enough to put up with a two-day road trip.”

  “Where are you headi
ng?”

  “Adelaide. It’s a long enough trip with someone I like. He almost killed me.”

  “He carried you into the hospital like a hero and then didn’t want to leave your side until the Professor had to shoo him away. All the nurses were talking about the two of you. Soooooo romantic.”

  My shrug couldn’t hide my smile. His arms felt divine, very Officer and a Gentleman. I’d almost wanted the whole waiting room to start cheering, “Way to go JoJo, way to go!” Instead, I tried to downplay my attraction to the stranger who had my head spinning. “It’s a long way to go with a stranger—even if I could convince him to go along with the pact.”

  “I don’t know, you could always ask.”

  “Or not.”

  “Or I could suggest it to him!” Jasmine laughed as we looked towards the cubicle opening, listening to the Professor talking with another doctor. It was almost time to get back to my stuffed-up life and find a way to get home.

  “Or you could really not. I’m ready for failure, and my punishment.”

  “What could be worse than going home without a date?”

  “Having to split the cost of a New Year’s Eve cruise. That’s the price of failure. Oh, and another year of pointed comments from my mother.”

  It would be so easy to use my car accident as an excuse not to go home, except for mum’s last text. Imprinted on my guilty heart.

  Mum: We are still hopeful that the treatment will work, but it would mean the world to your father if you could come home for Christmas. We know it’s a long way and expensive, but it would be nice if you could make the effort.

  It hadn’t taken much to read between the lines. This could be dad’s last Christmas. My mother was scared and needed me. Perhaps my lack of a plus one wouldn’t be noticed with everything else going on?

  Damn it. I’d get Mr. Good-looking Bastard Noel to drop me off at Sydney airport. Surely, he owed me that much.

  “Your friends have some serious game,” Jasmine laughed as I finished in time for Professor Samire to pull back the curtain. “Christmas is in three days.”

  “Like I said, you have no idea.” I turned back to the Professor; Jasmine did have good taste in men. “So, Professor—will I live long enough to see Christmas?”

  “Of course. There’s no reason you shouldn’t get everything you want for Christmas.”

  Poor man didn’t know why Jasmine and I doubled over in laughter. How could he? No man would understand the joke was on me.

  Damn, my shoulder hurt almost as much as my pride.

  Noel

  An hour after I carried her through the sliding emergency doors, JoJo became a one-armed owner of a moon boot with a side accessory of a giant white sling.

  “Can I get it wet?” JoJo asked my Professor mate, who’d flirted shamelessly, despite my vicious looks to warn him off and the jealous asides from the nurse who had become JoJo’s giggling companion.

  “You can get anything else wet you want.” His tone didn’t hide the innuendo and I swore JoJo almost blushed, “Just keep it wrapped in plastic, you know, wear protection and you’ll be fine.”

  “Peter!” I growled, wanting to snake my arm around JoJo but having to settle for the mates don’t cut their mates grass kind of stare. Yeah, JoJo wasn’t mine to get all jealous over, but I hadn’t called Peter to set him up on a date.

  “Sorry, mate.” Peter said the words that didn’t reach his eyes, before turning back to JoJo. “Look, here’s my card. When you get back to Sydney, why don’t you give me a call and I’ll give you a once over.”

  Again, with the innuendo.

  “Thanks, Peter.” I couldn’t tell whether JoJo was interested or being polite. All I knew was I resisted the intense desire to rip the card from JoJo’s fingers before she tucked it inside her sling. “See you for those drinks, Jasmine?”

  “Can’t wait to hear about your Christmas, you’ve still got three days!”

  The women shared another giggle as I watched the last wheelchair snatched up by an elderly couple. Regardless of them being more deserving, I relished the excuse to carry JoJo back to my car.

  “Come on.” I hadn’t thought things through.

  As easy as it had been to carry JoJo before, now it was like juggling flaming swords and trying not to burn or get burnt. What with her leg sticking out, two crutches balanced precariously across her lap and her only good arm around my neck. Holding on for dear life and I didn’t blame her. The damn sling tickled my neck and I imagined Pete’s sniggers as I kept swiveling to avoid bumping JoJo against something or someone.

  We drew attention. Me in my hobo clothes, and JoJo in her short blue sundress and bandaging. Unfortunately, we didn’t have history and the beautiful JoJo didn’t know how out of character today had been for me.

  When was the last time I’d gone out of my way for a stranger? Good friends, yes, but a person I didn’t know? Well, there was the volunteering but that was different. The organizations I worked with made a difference to hundreds of people and I never regretted a minute with them. No, this was a crazy-ass, spur of the moment impulse to go out of my way to do something nice for a stranger. When was the last time I’d gone to this much effort for a woman? Giving up a day to correct a wrong that could have been settled by my insurance company or credit card.

  Never. Absolutely never.

  Just like my jealousy with Tristan-call-me-Tryst and Professor Peter-call-me-later, being chivalrous had never been my shade of normal, but when it came to JoJo, my actions were real and my feelings even honorable. I wanted to carry her. To go out of my way to make sure she was looked after, safe, and perhaps to see her smile?

  “I can walk, you know?” JoJo reminded me when I adjusted my grip. We still had to cross four lanes of busy traffic to my Jeep. “Unless you want to drop me in the middle of the road for some other car to finish me off?”

  “I wouldn’t—” I started before realizing the woman had a dry sense of humor. Could she be any more perfect? I decided to play along, “Then again, it depends on who you follow in the league.”

  The traffic lights helped me pretend to stop in the middle of the road. I had ample time to race us across if the lights went green. Okay, I wanted to shake things up a little and get her to flash those pearly whites.

  “League? Why would I follow any team in the sport of thugs?” If she cared where we were standing, she didn’t flinch. Again, I liked her spunk.

  “Thugs? I thought women liked a man who knew how to take care of himself on the field.”

  “Are you asking if I like men who are fit in more ways than one?” Behind her, the lights turned amber. We had about twenty seconds.

  “Would a footballer carry you from the hospital or dump you in a wheelchair and leave you to fend for yourself?”

  “A footballer,” she twisted up to tease, “would try to carry me to a lot of places.” The lights changed and still no flinch. “But I only get carried away by men who are smarter than me.”

  The honking of cars tried to warn us of the green light as JoJo asked softly, “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Smarter than me?”

  “What do you think?” I pretended we had all the time in the world to finish this conversation.

  “I’m smart enough to know you avoided my question, which means you probably support Sea Eagles or the Roosters.”

  JoJo giggled and I picked up the pace to get her back to the cool car. The thin film of sweat forming on her chest reminding me how hot she must be with her shoulder tied up in the sling and boot. Not to mention our body heat.

  “I’m guessing Sea Eagles?”

  “Then I’m clearly smarter than you.” I slowed once reaching the footpath and tried to hide my need for oxygen. Jogging even across a road in this heat hadn’t been my smartest move.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a Souths man.”

  “Why?”

  “Grandfather played for them back in the day. Family loyalty means s
omething.” Shame it didn’t mean anything to the people who gave birth to me, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “You’re forgiven.” Her sarcasm lacked any malice and was as sexy as all hell.

  “Wasn’t asking for it, sweetheart.” I tried to give as good as I was getting.

  “A smart man would have.”

  “No. A man willing to lie just to get you into bed, would have.”

  “And you don’t?”

  I didn’t want to answer truthfully; that the thought had crossed my mind about a dozen times even before the ambulance had arrived. “JoJo, if we end up in bed it’ll be because you carried me away, not the other way around.”

  At least I delivered the words lightly, she could take it as the truth or pass them off as more of our jokey banter. The growing truth was that she felt right in my arms, and as messed up as our meeting had been, being together felt right. More crazy thoughts I hoped would make sense from the bottom of the glass that lacked the appeal from this morning.

  Carefully placing her on my car bonnet so I could open her door, JoJo’s beautiful face crumpled as she recoiled from the burning metal. Shit. Then she cried out in pain when I tried to maneuver her into the seat. Double shit. Could I hurt her more if I tried? Clumsy, insensitive jackass!

  “Are you okay? I can get some water for more pain meds if you want.” My words fell over themselves in my rush to fix another fucking mistake.

  Instead, she slumped, eyes closing and sighed, “I’m fine. Today hasn’t gone exactly as I planned.”

  The banter and fun disappeared, and I hated not being able to fix things. Me. The man who could control the world most days, couldn’t help one woman.

  I’d stocked up on bottled water and other supplies while JoJo had been in x-ray. Offering her an opened bottle—I’d learned at least one lesson from the day—I said with all honesty and humility, “If I haven’t said it before, I’m sorry.”