Chapter Five
Noelle snuggled down under the warm blanket and watched the fire flicker and dance. Talking to Charles had clarified some important points about her situation. Her parents’ restaurant, the reason for her return to town, no longer existed. Most of the people along the block had no problem accepting the offer made by the developer and enjoying the new, modern buildings. Her objections lay in ashes.
Her best option would be to return to Georgia, try to get her job back at the restaurant, and put the insurance money away for the time when she could start a new restaurant there. Costs would be higher, but she could add to the fund and, maybe in five or ten years, reopen Bistro Noelle in her new home town.
No one was hurt in the fire, and all impediments to her leaving had gone up in smoke. If the gods had a clearer way of telling her to get out of town, she couldn’t imagine it.
Simple. Clean. Obvious.
“Taste this.”
She lifted her gaze to see Charles holding out a piece of some kind of cake and, without asking questions, took a big bite of…. “Oh my god,” she mumbled around the crumbly sweetness, “what is this?”
Charles lifted the corner of the afghan and slipped under it with her. “Fruitcake.” He nibbled the edge and grinned.
“It is not.” Noelle broke off a corner and popped it in her mouth. It burst with flavor, rum and cherries and spices. “Fruitcake is dry and too sweet and nasty. This is delicious. Where did you get it?”
He gobbled the rest before she could get another bite then took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I made it.”
“No you didn’t.”
Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. “You doubt my word?”
Shivers ran down her spine and up again and tingled to her fingertips. She licked her lips and blew out a slow breath. “I-I wouldn’t do that.” Again with the power. He sure didn’t seem like someone who drove someone else’s car for a living. She’d expect a mellower personality for that job. “I trust you.”
Charles sat back and released her hand. “Well, I appreciate that, but….” He seemed about to say something then pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “It’s midnight.” He tugged her toward him and she fell against his chest. His heart thudded like a drum in her ear. “It’s Christmas.”
It didn’t sound like a curse word anymore. When he stroked her hair, she wanted to purr like Duchess in pleasure at his touch.
“Merry Christmas, Noelle.” Cupping the back of her head in his palm, he held her in place and descended toward her.
“Merry Christmas, Charles,” she said as his lips touched hers, and, this time, nothing went black. Instead, fireworks burst behind her closing eyelids. Every color of the rainbow but mostly the reds and greens of Christmas.
Suddenly, leaving didn’t sound like such an easy thing to do.
No lips had ever tasted as sweet. Aunt Molly’s fruitcake left a cherry flavor blended with the rum from the eggnog and the nutmeg that had topped it, and Charles couldn’t get enough of this Christmas cocktail. He’d wanted to kiss her since almost the first moment, but he’d never guessed at how intoxicating it could be. When he thought of what the chief said, that she could have lost her life in the fire, he held her tighter against him, wanting to keep her safe forever. Make sure all her holidays were bright and happy and free of fire and car accidents and loss. When they finally broke apart for breath, they stared at one another, panting.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, hand resting on his cheek nonetheless.
“Why not?” He couldn’t imagine what reason the most amazing kiss of his life shouldn’t have happened. “Are you seeing someone?” If so, could he stop her from doing so? Noble thought…but if she were, wouldn’t she have wanted to call him?
“No, nothing like that,” she said. “But after tomorrow, I have to leave. I’m already wishing I didn’t have to.”
“Then don’t. Aren’t you going to rebuild?”
“Yes, eventually.” She rubbed her palm over his five o’clock shadow and shivered. “But not here. Let the people on my block move forward with the new development. I’ll go back to Georgia. I think it was meant to be.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
She smiled sadly at him. “Thank you. But I don’t know if I’ll have enough insurance money to rebuild, and, even if I signed on to the new development, I don’t think I want to work in a cold, sterile building like the one the man told us about.”
“Maybe that can change.” He’d built modern developments like it in cities all around the country and his office wall was heavy with awards for the designs. He’d tried to use the best of everything, not even planning to make a profit on this one. Wanting to give something to his new home. But he’d never thought that a small town might not be a good fit. Stupid really, but in his willingness to give the town the best at the lowest price possible, in wanting to help instead of gain, he’d forgotten to take the preferences of the people who’d run the businesses into account. “Maybe the plans can be redone to suit the town, to suit you and your neighbors.”
She shook her head. “Can you imagine some big developer in his skyscraper office being willing to completely redesign a development because the restaurant owner and the yarn store lady would prefer more wood and less glass?” Kissing his cheek, she sat back and stared at the fire. “That would be a Christmas miracle.”
“Anything is possible.”
She sighed. “No, if it were, I would not have lost everything. But I’m so grateful to you for everything you’ve done. I hope you don’t get in trouble for having me here.”