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“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, you can’t hate your family too much if you work for the family business.”
He stiffened. “I work for the family business because I’m good at it. Like you said, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Not to mention that if I didn’t, Hammond’s wouldn’t be a family business anymore,” he added in a softer voice.
“There aren’t any other family members?”
“None that are around,” he said in a chilly voice. Clearly, it was a touchy subject.
Figuring it best to move on, Noelle focused on the rhythm of her windshield wipers going back and forth in the snow. Too bad the wipers couldn’t swipe away the awkwardness that had overtaken the car.
As they got closer to downtown Fryberg, the road narrowed to one lane. Thanks to the snow, the already slower than normal traffic was reduced to a crawl. Only the castle trolley, which traveled in the bus lane, made any progress. Looking to the passenger seat, James was attempting to lean against the headrest without pressing on his stitches and not having much luck. His brow was furrowed and his mouth drawn into a tense line. Was he agitated because he was uncomfortable or from her uncomfortable question? Either way, it made Noelle anxious to see.
The sign for Bloomberg’s Pharmacy caught her eye, giving her an idea. “Think your head can handle the snow?” she asked.
“It won’t melt, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied.
“Good.” With a flick of her directional handle, she eased the car to the right.
“From here until the central parking lot, traffic’s going to be slower than molasses. I’ll park at the drugstore and we can walk.”
James’s frown deepened. “Walk where?”
“To the Christmas market, remember?”
“Hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies. How could I forget?”
“You left out Christmas spirit,” she said. “I thought maybe we could find you some. That way you don’t have to rely on your marketing department to give your business heart.”
“I told you yesterday, it’s going to take a lot more than some midwestern Christmas craft fair.”
Maybe, but a day at the market might make him smile. And for some reason, that was suddenly important to her.
* * *
Noelle swore the Christmas Kickoff got larger every year. At least the crowds did. Seemed to her that in middle school, she and Kevin darted from booth to booth without having to fight the flow of traffic.
James cut through the crowd like it was human butter. Hands in his coat pockets, he walked past the various stalls and vendors with such authority, the people naturally parted upon his approach. Noelle walked beside him and marveled.
Part of the deference had to be caused by his looks. He was, by far, the most handsome man there. The wind had burned his cheekbones pink while his hair and coat were dappled with snowy droplets. Dark and bright at the same time.
He looked over at her with eyes that refracted the light. “Where is this chocolate maker of yours?” he asked.
“I’m not quite sure.” Rising on tiptoe, she tried to scan the aisle, but there were too many people taller than her. “In the past, Mr. Heineman liked to take a stall toward the rear.”
“Then to the rear we go,” he replied. “Like salmon heading upstream. This cocoa better be everything you claim it to be.”
“Better. I promise, you’ll be addicted.” Mr. Heineman had a secret recipe that made the cocoa smooth and spicy at the same time.
“Addicted, huh? You’re setting a pretty high bar, Mrs. Fryberg.”
“It’s not high if it’s true,” she told him with a grin.
And there it was. The start of a smile. Like a lot of his smiles, it didn’t reach his eyes, but they had all afternoon. After the way he’d closed off in the car, she was determined to pull a bona fide grin out of him before they were finished.
She’d contemplate why the mission mattered so much later.
“Coming through!” Four teenage boys wearing matching school jackets were pushing their way through the crowd with the obnoxious aggression of teenage boys. The tallest of the four crashed his shoulder into Noelle. As she pitched sideways, an arm grabbed her waist. Instead of taking a face full of snow, she found herself pressed against cashmere-covered warmth.
“Looks like it’s your turn to get knocked over,” James said, his chest vibrating against her cheek as he spoke. “You all right?”
“Right as rain.” His coat smelled faintly of expensive aftershave while his shirt smelled of her orange body wash. A subtle combination that tempted a woman to rest her head. Okay, tempted her. Instead, she pressed a palm to his shoulder to steady herself. “We do have a habit of falling around each other,” she said. “Thank you for catching me. In this crowd, I might have gotten trampled.”
