Christmas on 4th Street (Fool's Gold #12.5)(39)

She waved away his concern. “I’ll be fine. I have righteousness on my side. What could go wrong?”

“Don’t tempt fate. I’m coming with you and I’m driving. We’ll take Gideon’s truck.”

She stared into his eyes, her expression innocent. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

He touched his gloved fingers to her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You’re welcome.”

She grinned and grabbed his hands in hers. “It’ll be fun. We’ll find a huge tree and cut it down. Like we’re pioneers or something. Then bring it back and put it in the window. I’ll win for sure.”

He wasn’t convinced. “You’ll have to measure the window. We don’t want to bring back something that’s too big.” He drew her against him and they started walking.

“I’ll go online tonight and find out what the best trees are. We need it to last a long time and look pretty. Maybe Felicia knows. She knows everything.”

He studied her. “Is this what you were like in law school? Always trying to be the best?”

“I didn’t graduate first in my class, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Number two?”

“I was third. Besides, this isn’t like that.”

“It’s a contest. It’s pretty much like that.”

Before she could answer, a little girl ran over to them. She was adorable, maybe five with shiny black hair and big eyes. She wore a thick red coat and rain boots with red polka dots on them.

“Hey, you,” Noelle said, crouching down and smiling at her. “Are you staying warm?”

“I am,” the girl said, smiling shyly. “We bought my grandma an ornament at your store. You helped me pick it out.”

“I remember,” Noelle told her. “Did you give it to her?”

The girl nodded.

“Did she like it?”

There was another smile and a quick nod. “She cried.”

“Those are the best kind of presents.”

The girl’s mother came over and took her hand. “We were in town for the long weekend with my parents,” the woman said. “Your store was wonderful. Sophie wanted you to know.”

Noelle touched the girl’s cheek. “Thank you for telling me about your grandmother, Sophie.”

“You’re welcome.”

Noelle rose and turned back to him. “Does that make you want to give the world a hug?”

“You make people happy.”

“I try. It’s not me, it’s the store, but still.”

She flung herself at him. He caught her and held on tight.

He knew she was wrong—she was the one with the special touch. Without her, The Christmas Attic was simply a collection of things. She brought it all alive. While he didn’t remember the little girl or her mother, he didn’t doubt Noelle had taken plenty of time with them. She did that with every customer. She made shopping at her store an experience.

“We’ll go up the mountain,” he told her. “Find out where the best trees are and we’ll go.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re not so tough. You pretend you’re all broody and wounded but you’re really a sweet kind of guy.”

He wanted to tell her not to believe in him, that he wasn’t a good risk. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t have her faith. But those were words for another time, he thought, brushing his mouth against hers. A time when it wasn’t snowing on a beautiful night a few weeks before Christmas.

* * *

Gabriel walked through the cold night, grateful that the temperature would take care of any lingering desire. He’d done the gentlemanly thing—he’d walked Noelle home and left her on her doorstep without even hinting how much he wanted to go inside.

He’d read the indecision in her eyes and had known he could have easily convinced her. A few kisses and she would have started to melt. But as much as he wanted her, he needed her to be sure. To understand what the consequences would be.

A conscience was a giant pain in the ass, he thought as he turned the corner. Well, not his ass, exactly.

“Hello, Gabriel.”

An older woman appeared at his side. He would have sworn there was no one else out on this snowy night. Not this late. The bustling city tended to shut down right around nine.

The woman had white curly hair and deep blue eyes. She had to be in her sixties, but she stood straight and strong. He’d seen her before, but couldn’t remember where.

“Ma’am,” he said, no longer surprised people he’d never met knew who he was.

“I’m Mayor Marsha Tilson,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been wanting to speak to you.”

She motioned to a business across the street. He peered through the snow and saw a sign that read Jo’s Bar.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” she said, already stepping off the curb. “Irish coffee,” she added with a laugh. “Nobody makes it better than Jo.”

Somehow he found himself following the woman. He told himself to stop, that he had no business going into a bar with a woman thirty years older than him. He remembered the butt pat from the other day and wondered if he was about to get into an even more awkward situation. But somehow he kept moving along at her side, answering polite questions about how he enjoyed the town.