White-Hot Holiday(5)

“A nice, sedate Corolla would have been more than adequate.”

He gnashed the gears and winced. “A Corolla? What’s the fun in that? Besides, I’m not going to impress any women in a Corolla.”

She instantly stiffened, as he’d suspected she would. “Well, I’m definitely not impressed,” she began hotly, before she hesitated and shot him an uncertain glance. “You’re ribbing me, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “I guess I am, unless you are secretly impressed by my car.”

He thought she would come back with a sassy retort, but she merely shifted in her seat and toyed with her hair. Grinning to himself, he was about to ask her what would impress her when he remembered himself and bit back the provocative question. Luke had asked him to behave, and while his hosts were absent dealing with a crisis, he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation by flirting with Naomi.

Resolved to behaving himself, he followed Naomi’s directions to the center of Burronga. As he drove down the main street, he found his shoulders beginning to tense. Burronga was a bit more upmarket than Mecklenburg, but it reminded him too much of his hometown. The old buildings, the broad streets, the ambling traffic, the wide, blue sky overhead. In a few days’ time, he’d be driving past a similar streetscape, except it would be winter dull and freezing cold and he’d be counting the hours until he could escape.

He recalled the school trip in seventh grade to New York City, how he’d been dazzled by the city’s energy, diversity, and endless possibilities. In Mecklenburg he’d always felt as if he were living under a dome, trapped with small-town folks who thought he was weird because he wasn’t like the other sporty, outdoorsy kids. But in New York the sky was the limit, and suddenly he could breathe. On his return home, he’d announced his intention of moving to New York one day, much to the dismay of his parents, who were perfectly happy where they were and wanted him to stay nearby.

He’d never truly felt he’d belonged in Mecklenburg, and spending Christmas there just reinforced that belief. But his family expected him there each year, and the more he felt obliged to live up to their expectations, the more Christmas brought out the grouch in him. Though he knew he shouldn’t feel that way, the guilt only fed into his silent resentment, and the vicious cycle soured his visits.

He reminded himself he was half a world away from Mecklenburg and shouldn’t let his prejudices against small towns get to him. Naomi directed him to a restored, nineteenth-century, two-story building with a ground floor storefront bearing the name Java & Joolz.

“You don’t have to spend all day here,” she said as they got out of the car that he’d parked right outside the store.

“We’ll see. I don’t like being idle.”

She studied him curiously over the roof of the car. “Yes, I noticed that,” she said drily. “Your boss had to twist your arm to take a vacation, and then you spent the first week learning to scuba dive. And today, you’re so averse to relaxing that you’d rather help me serve Christmas shoppers even though the sight of tinsel makes you break out in hives.”

“Yeah, I’m a nutcase.”

Aaron followed her into the store, thinking it wasn’t so much that he was averse to relaxing as he was attracted to spending the day with Naomi. Once inside, his feet faltered as he took stock of his surroundings. The art gallery and coffee shop screamed Xmas at him. A towering, white Christmas tree stood guard at the entrance, glimmering with shiny balls and ribbons. Giant snowflakes spattered the walls. Curly strings of tinsel looped around the serving counter of the coffee-shop area. Fake snow sprayed across the windows.

One Christmas, back in high school, he’d got a temporary job stocking shelves at a local supermarket. The store had been crammed with cheap, tawdry decorations. All day long, loudspeakers had blared out Christmas songs while the overworked staff clanged bells every two hours to announce a new “special.” The store owners had squeezed every last dime from the season, and the experience had left a lasting impression on Aaron. Ever since then, he’d developed an allergy to tinsel, carols, and clanging bells. Tyler’s store was much more refined, but still the onslaught of yuletide decorations left Aaron reeling, and the heat didn’t help.

It was the height of summer. Outside, people were strolling around in shorts and sandals eating ice cream, but in here it was Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. But he’d promised Naomi he’d help, so he’d just have to get over his tinsel phobia.

“You’ll have to put this on.” Naomi approached him with a red-and-green elf hat.

He looked at the hat. He crossed his arms. “Nope. No darn way.”

“But it’s for shoppers to identify staff when they need help. See, I’m wearing one.”

And she looked real cute in her elf hat, but not him. Nuh-uh. “That thing has pointy ears. And a pom-pom. Men shouldn’t wear pom-poms.”

“Santa wears pom-poms, and he’s a man.”

He leaned toward her. “I hate to break it to you, but Santa isn’t real.”

She put on an expression of mock astonishment. “But I saw him down at the shopping mall just the other day!” She grinned persuasively. “C’mon. Santa’s a real man, and real men wear pom-poms.”

She was speaking to him like he was a five-year-old who needed to be cajoled into doing the right thing. Goddammit. He might not enjoy the silly season, but he wasn’t going to have her thinking he was petulant and difficult.

“Fine.” He took the elf hat from her and jammed it on his head.

Naomi grinned up at him. “Here, let me fix that for you.”

The hat was hideous, but as Naomi leaned closer to straighten it, he began to appreciate the benefits of wearing it. Her fingers brushed against his temples, causing him to take a quick breath, and as he did so, he inhaled her fresh, green scent. Her face was mere inches away, so close he could see her dilated pupils and count the tiny freckles on the bridge of her small, straight nose. She really was lovely. He held his breath, pulses suddenly hammering, transfixed by the acute urge to kiss her. Holy hell, how could he control himself against such temptation? He held himself rigid, half wishing she would stop this exquisite torture. Their proximity appeared to affect her, too. Her dense eyelashes flickered, and her fingers trembled before she stepped back.

“Uh, there you go,” she murmured.

Hope rose at her flustered appearance. Naomi wasn’t unmoved by him. Maybe she was even starting to like him, but if she did, she masked it well. Her demeanor became brisk and professional as she gave him a rundown of the store operations. They had a part-time waitress, Beth, who helped out in the café section, and Ally, who co-owned the store with Tyler, would come in for a while, but otherwise Naomi was in sole charge. She guided him around the art gallery, showing him what was proving popular this year and what was not. Aaron focused his attention on her as he realized being a retail assistant might not be as easy as he’d assumed. The gallery sold a lot of products, and he wasn’t familiar with any of them. If it had been loan refinancing and leveraged buyouts, he would have had no problem, but glassware, prints, candles, and jewelry were another matter.

He didn’t have much time to acquaint himself with the store before customers began to arrive. At first they were just a trickle, but it soon grew to a deluge. People came not just to shop but also to chat over coffee and cakes and snacks. The clientele were ninety percent women, and they seemed to find him quite a novelty, even more so when they heard his accent. He was kept busy all morning long, and by eleven thirty he was surprised at how tired he felt.

He’d just finished serving a customer when Naomi came up to him. “I’m impressed,” she said with a smile. “You’ve sold five of those stained-glass flowers in one morning. Those dimples of yours must be working overtime.”

He grinned, disproportionately pleased by her praise. “I can be quite persuasive when I want.”

“Hmm, that’s a worry.” She gestured at the street outside. “Why don’t you take a break now and grab an early lunch?”

“What about you?” he asked, aware that Naomi had been working far harder than he, as she’d had to manage the café as well as the gallery.

“I’m going to have a quick coffee and sandwich here now that Beth’s arrived.” She hesitated, then added uncertainly, “I thought you might like a stroll outside, but you’re welcome to join me, if you prefer.”

Aaron didn’t want a stroll outside. Small towns were the same the world over, whereas Naomiwell, there was still so much he wanted to find out about Naomi and not much time to do it.

“I’d love to join you.” He gave his dimples another workout.



As Naomi sat down at the table with Aaron, she tried to ignore the cheeky wink from Beth, their part-time waitress, who was wiping down a nearby table. Beth had been all agog over Aaron as soon as she’d spotted him, and she wasn’t the only one. Just about every regular customer wanted to know about the handsome, charming American helping out at the store. Who was he; where did he come from; how long was he staying? At one stage, Aaron had almost been mobbed by a group of ladies from the country club. All good for business, and Aaron had proved himself surprising adept at selling. So why had it niggled her to see him surrounded by admiring women, and why had the niggling intensified when she observed his suave manner with them? Could she actually be jealous?