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“Bare minimum, I assure you. Belinda would have my head if you died on my watch. In case you hadn’t guessed, she takes her responsibility to others very seriously. Especially those injured in her store.”
His store now. James let the slip pass uncommented. “Good policy. I’m sure your lawyers appreciate the extra effort.”
“It’s not policy,” she quickly shot back. Her eyes simmered with contention. “It’s compassion. The Frybergs have always believed in taking care of others. Belinda especially. I’ll have you know that I’ve seen her literally give a stranger the coat off her back.”
“I apologize,” James replied. “I didn’t mean to insinuate...”
She held up her hand. “Whatever. Just know that lawsuits are the last thing on Belinda’s mind.
“You have no idea how special the Fryberg family is,” she continued. Driving home the point. “Ned and Belinda were...are...the best people you’ll ever meet. The whole town loves them.”
“Duly noted,” James replied. Must be nice, having a family member care so much they sprang to your defense at the slightest ill word. “I’ll watch my language from now on.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They both fell silent. James sat back on the sofa and rubbed his neck, an uncomfortable itch having suddenly danced across his collar. Normally silence didn’t bother him; he didn’t know why this lapse in conversation felt so awkward.
Probably because the entire situation was awkward. If they were in Boston, he would be the host. He would be offering to whip up a cappuccino and his signature scrambled eggs, the way he did for all his overnight guests. Instead, he was sitting on her sofa, feeling very much like the obligation that he was.
And here he’d thought he was done feeling that way ever again.
Noelle broke the silence first. Tugging on her sweatshirt the way an officer might tug on his jacket, she cleared her throat. “I’m heading back into the kitchen. You might as well go back to sleep. It’s still early. Not even seven-thirty.”
“You’re awake.”
“I have cooking to do. You’re supposed to rest.”
“I’m rested out.” Headache or not, his body was still on East Coast time, and according to it, he’d already slept several hours past his usual wake time. “I don’t think I could sleep more if I wanted to.”
“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. “TV remote’s on the end table if you want it. I’ll be in the kitchen.” The unspoken Stay out of my way came loud and clear.
She turned and padded out the door. Although James had never been one to ogle women, he found himself watching her jean-clad rear end. Some women were born to wear jeans, and the elf was one of them. With every step, her hips swayed from side to side like a well-toned bell. It was too bad the woman disliked his presence; her attractiveness was one of the few positive things about this debacle of a trip.
He needed to go back to Boston. It was where he belonged. Where he was...well, if not wanted, at least comfortable.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. The room spun a little, but not nearly as badly as it had yesterday, or even fifteen minutes earlier, for that matter. If he managed to walk to the kitchen without problem, he was leaving. Grant him and Noelle a reprieve.
Plans settled, he made his way to the kitchen. Happily, the room only spun a little. He found his hostess in the center of the room pulling a bright yellow apron over her head. The delicious aroma from before hung heavy in the air. It wasn’t a candle at all, but some kind of pie. Pumpkin, he realized, taking a deep breath.
His stomach rumbled. “I don’t suppose I could get a cup of coffee,” he said when she turned around.
She pointed to the rear cupboard where a full pot sat on the coffee maker burner. “Cups are in the cupboard above. There’s cereal and toast if you want any breakfast. Do you need me to pour?” she added belatedly.
“No, thank you. I can manage.” He made his way over to the cupboard. Like everything else in the house, the mugs were simple, yet sturdy. He was beginning to think she was the only delicate-looking thing in the house. “You have a nice place,” he remarked as he poured.
“You sound surprised.”
“Do I?” he replied. “I don’t mean to.”
“In that case, thank you. Kevin and his father came up with the design.”
That explained the resemblance to the Christmas Castle.
“I’m curious,” he said, leaning against the counter. She had bent over to look in the oven, giving him another look at her bottom. “Is there some kind of rule that the houses all have to look...”
