by Jenny Hale
He threw his head back and laughed, then immediately looked toward the short hallway beyond which Lucas was sleeping. “Sorry,” he said in a lowered voice. “I’m flattered. Thank you.”
She suppressed an eye roll at herself. How was she supposed to be taken seriously now when she’d just pretty much told him she thought he was attractive? His ease with Lucas and his kindness had made her a little too comfortable and now she felt the need to bring herself back to reality, but the damage was done.
“I apologize,” she said. “That was very unprofessional of me. I won’t let it happen again.”
“Yes,” he said. “‘Smokin’ hot’ isn’t usually allowed in the workplace…” He broke out into a smile.
She felt her eyes bulge and a streak of heat shoot across her face like a flame to gasoline. Smokin’ hot? How did he know she’d said “Smokin’ hot”? Noelle gasped. “You opened my texts?” She had to close her gaping mouth.
“No,” he laughed. “But your friend Phoebe kept texting you and her messages were pinging one after another. I thought there was some kind of emergency. Does she always do that?”
There was a slight fondness in his amusement, giving her pulse a workout. “Yes, she does,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. She grabbed her phone and hit the button, finally looking at the texts that had pushed through to her screen. Sure enough, Phoebe had continued:
Where are you? Is he really smokin’ hot like you say?
Can you get him to take his shirt off?
Maybe do laundry for him.
Go spill something on him!
Trying to keep her composure, Noelle cleared the texts and set it face down again on the table. “This is not how I imagined my first night on the job,” she admitted, still slightly stunned at the whole thing.
He laughed again. “Drink some more wine. It’ll help.” Then with a devious glint in his eye, he said, “Just don’t spill any on me.”
“How do you know I wasn’t winding her up?” She cut her eyes at him playfully, but held onto her wine with both hands before they started to shake.
“By the color of your cheeks, and the splotches going down your neck, I assumed you weren’t, but then again, maybe you were.”
Grasping for anything to eliminate the humiliation, she said, “She’s seen you from a distance and thinks you’re attractive so I was only teasing her.”
“Of course.” He topped their glasses off. “I understand.”
Oh no. “Only teasing her” might sound like she was saying he wasn’t attractive. Now she’d told him he was ugly. “I meant…” She let a nervous breath out, scrambling for a better response.
“It’s fine.” He smiled again, the gesture reaching his eyes and making her pounding heart want to completely stop dead at the gorgeousness.
She pulled her eyes away from him, still struggling for some way to save this moment, and noticed the hearth where flames were dancing their way up the chimney.
He followed her line of sight. “I started a fire. This house gets a little drafty in the winter.” The playfulness had dropped from his expression—he was letting her off the hook and moving on to a different conversation.
“That’s very thoughtful,” she said. “Thank you for your kindness with Lucas today. He doesn’t open up to many people and you made him feel welcome, which is a big thing, since he’s had to move schools and change houses.”
“You’re welcome. He’s a great kid.”
Noelle liked the soft look on his face when he said that. It made her want to talk to him all night about everything and nothing at the same time. But she could feel the exhaustion setting in and she knew that she was caving to Alex’s kindness because she was tired. In the morning, her mind would be clearer, and she’d remember all those things she’d told herself about him. The warm glow of the fire and the sweet taste of the wine weren’t helping matters.
“So what’s your grandfather like?” she said, sticking to business as she swirled the liquid in her glass. She sat a little straighter, trying to push herself to stay alert. She couldn’t wait to meet William Harrington, especially since Alex had been such a surprise.
Alex cleared his throat before answering. “Difficult.”
His answer shocked her. Oh, great. No wonder she’d been chosen for the job. It wasn’t her credentials or the fact that she’d had a great interview; it was because no one else wanted it. William Harrington was probably known to be a nightmare or something. Other than the Phoebe-texts debacle, on the whole, things had gone well for her since she’d arrived; there was bound to have been a catch.
“Sorry,” he said, forcing a smile. It looked like he was well practiced at doing that. “I just find him hard to get along with.” He gazed into the fire as if the thoughts were right there on the surface just waiting to get out. Then, snapping out of it, he turned back to her. “Enough about my grandfather—you’ll meet him tomorrow. Tell me,” he said with mock importance, “your friend Phoebe…”
She didn’t know which was worse: the fact that he wouldn’t elaborate about William or that he was bringing up Phoebe again. She thought she’d escaped that line of discussion.
“She’s seen me from a distance? Where?”
“Here. Well, outside at the wall surrounding the property,” she added quickly, so as not to make Phoebe out to be a crazy person peeking into his windows. “We used to walk past this house after school.”
“We?”
“Phoebe and I both went to Winston High School down the road. She and I, along with my friend Jo, walked by this house on our way home, every day, freshman to senior year. We’d balance on the wide brick top of it until it got too high and then jump down onto the sidewalk.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “So you walked past my house every day for… four years? And now you’re living here. What a small world.”
“Yes, it is.” Something in his eyes drove her to say what was on her mind. She’d never told anyone this—she never really had a reason to. “You know, I thought I saw you once too,” she said. “You were walking toward an elderly woman. She was carrying a white box and she seemed to be losing her grip on it. You tried to get to her just as she lost hold of it, and she dropped it. I thought I heard her say, ‘Oh no! The cake…’ I’ve always thought about that. I wondered if some beautiful cake had been ruined.”
Alex searched the air, probably for the memory, until it evidently dawned on him. “I remember,” he said slowly. “That was my grandmother.” His words came out huskily. He took in a breath. “It was my birthday cake—in the box. I was turning nineteen. She dropped it. She was so upset. She was adamant that she’d make another one, so I helped her.”
“How sweet of you,” she said. This soft side of him was such a contrast to the articles she’d seen in the local paper about his lacrosse games and the weekend polo matches he played in for charity. He was clearly driven and competitive, even now in adulthood—the way he’d pushed out all those small businesses, making way for larger chains to take over for financial gain.
“Well…” He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts as well. Then he came out of it, but his face was unreadable. “I had a lovely night tonight—thank you.” He moved toward the edge of the sofa as if he were going to stand up.
He was cutting things off, just like that? “Thank you for taking the time to get to know me and Lucas and making us feel at home.”
He smiled. It was weird how relaxed she felt right now in this enormous house, but Alex had a way of shrinking her focus to just the tiny space around them and nothing else mattered in that moment.
“And sorry about the texts.” She eyed her phone.
The comment hung between them and it was as if neither of them knew what to do next. She took in the starch of his shirt, the curve of his lips, the shadow of stubble on his neck, the way his hand fell on his knee.
He leaned forward to get his book from the table just as she went for her phone, which was buzzing again, their faces i
nches from each other. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath and smell the wine on it. That curiosity in his eyes returned, and she wondered if he felt what she felt in that moment. Then, clearly acting on an impulse, he leaned in further, his lips meeting hers for just an instant, barely brushing her mouth, causing the whole world to stop. There was nothing in that moment but him and her. There was a kind of perfection in that space just between them where she wanted to know more, to feel more, the emotion hanging right there. He pulled away, blinking, his face clouded with astonishment.
He opened his mouth to say something but thought otherwise and stood up. She knew just by looking at him that he was horrified at having put her in that position. The strange thing was that she wasn’t offended or put off at all, despite the fact this was Alexander Harrington, her boss. She pressed her lips together, unable to avoid speculating about what it would’ve felt like to really have him kiss her.
“It’s okay,” she said, standing up and taking a step in front of him.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve overstepped the boundaries.”
“Well, now I don’t feel so bad about calling you ‘smokin’ hot’,” she teased.
He laughed. “So you meant it?” He flashed that smile, and her stomach lurched in somersaults.
She bit her lip, trying not to beam at him, the excitement whirling around in her head, making her dizzy.
“I knew it,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re a terrible liar.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He shifted his face to drop his smile dramatically. “No,” he agreed. Then he softened into a genuine look of affection. “I’ll let you relax. Enjoy the rest of the wine.”
She wanted to ask him to stay, but she knew she shouldn’t, so she let him go. She was a little panicked by the way her pulse roared like a plane at takeoff as she thought about what had just happened. It was all so wrong and it didn’t make any sense at all, given the situation with the bakery. But she found herself fixating on the almost-kiss that was playing over and over in her head like a movie on a loop. She couldn’t get it out of her mind.
Chapter Eight
“Are we going to see Alex again?” Lucas asked, as they sat down in the informal dining area the following morning.
Just his question sent a tingle of emotion down Noelle’s spine. She felt elation at the thought of seeing him again, mixed with both guilt about spending time with the man ruining everything and the fear of how she was supposed to be around him now.
Melinda Burnett had knocked on the door of the suite that morning and told her she’d let the chef know Noelle and Lucas would be coming down for breakfast. On Sundays the kitchen was booming, she’d said, because they always provided a full breakfast for all the staff. She also told Noelle that she and Lucas could eat before the others, since William would be coming in, and to arrive with an empty stomach; the spread was impressive.
Afterward, Noelle was meeting her mother down the street to take Lucas for the day. He was going to help her deliver Christmas cookies to the neighbors. William was due in from New York around nine in the morning. This would give Noelle time to get acquainted with him before she had Lucas in tow.
“I’m not sure,” she finally answered his question.
There were silver covered dishes on the sideboard, plates of fruit, a big basket of southern biscuits, steaming oatmeal topped with granola and dried cherries, and more muffins than she’d ever had in the old bakery window. A crystal flute of orange juice sat at her place and a small plastic cup with a giraffe on it had been set down in front of Lucas. Noelle had to stifle her surprise. She couldn’t imagine how Alex had managed to get Lucas a cup between dinner last night and breakfast this morning, but he had, and she couldn’t wait to thank him. She looked over at the door, pushing all the other thoughts from her mind, hoping he’d come through it and join them.
As plates of eggs and bacon, stone-ground grits and mini breakfast quiches were uncovered and adorned with serving spoons, Noelle caught Jim’s attention and asked, “Will Mr. Harrington be joining us?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “He flew out this morning.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. He’d just up and left without even letting her know? Well, he didn’t have to let her know, certainly, but she would’ve thought—
Another idea filtered into her mind before she could finish the last: perhaps she’d read into their evening more than he had. Perhaps she’d been only something to pass the time before his trip today. He was probably just being polite and welcoming. Her conversation with her father surfaced and she remembered about Alex’s business dealings with her dad and Pop-pop, and she scolded herself for not listening to her inner voice of doubt. What if that almost-kiss had been truly an accident? And even if it hadn’t, it would be just like the person she initially thought he was to leave without saying a thing. She’d let herself get drawn in, despite her attempts to ignore the impulse, and she’d gotten exactly what she’d expected to get. Well, she wouldn’t let herself be derailed again.
Suddenly, Noelle was glad that he’d gone so she couldn’t get swept up in her feelings before having a chance to listen to her brain for a second. She was out of her comfort zone, without her friends and family to weigh in on things, and she worried that her own personal insecurities about not having a family for Lucas or a partner to come home to were playing with her mind. Maybe she was making Alex out to be a better person than he was. And perhaps, if she thought back over it all, he was just playing games with her. She sucked in a breath as she thought, what if he’d been trying to get something from her last night? What if he’d hoped she’d ask him to stay? He’d told her to finish the wine… Had he been expecting something more to happen between them? Anger swept through her. She resolved right then and there not to fall for such a man.
“I don’t need anyone to babysit me,” William Harrington said under his breath, as he trembled on his cane, unsuccessfully attempting to keep himself steady. With an unstable hand, he grabbed onto the ornate railing of the sweeping staircase that led upstairs and planted a foot on the bottom step.
“Mr. Harrington,” Melinda said, offering a look of solidarity to Noelle. At least they were in this together. “We’ve moved your room downstairs. You’re at the end of the hall now, remember?”
With his mouth set in a straight line and his brows pulling together in annoyance, he shifted around and leaned on his cane again for support, his head turned toward Noelle, but his eyes distant, his gaze slightly off-target, revealing his loss of eyesight.
“I’ll show you where your room is,” Noelle said as gently as she could, stepping forward, trying to put the man at ease. But his irritation was clear.
He said quietly, “I remember.” And then he started to walk toward the hallway. Noelle shuffled up beside him, nodding to Melinda that she had this under control.
“Call me if you need anything,” Melinda said. “I’ll be in England for my Christmas holidays, but you have my phone number if you have any questions.”
Noelle nodded, wondering how today would go.
“What’s your name again, young lady?” William asked, his tone still short, as they walked slowly down the wide, shiny hallway, their steps echoing under the high ceilings. He seemed as though he were looking where they were walking, but every now and again, he’d put out his hand or swing his cane to ensure nothing was in his way.
“Noelle Parker,” she said.
He tipped his head up briefly to show his interest, but then the bothered look returned. “Miss Parker,” he said, as if trying out the name to see if it fit on his lips. “Well, Miss Parker, you are very kind to walk me to my room, but I can manage just fine. I haven’t been gone so long that I can’t remember the way, even if I can’t see.”
How was she supposed to take care of him if he wouldn’t let her? Clearly, he must need some help or she and Lucas wouldn’t be living there. “If you don’t w
ant any assistance right now, that’s fine—you can just call on me when you need something. But I’m new to the house. I was sort of hoping you’d show me around since I don’t have anything else to do.”
He looked up from the floor again, and in that split second, there was a moment of contemplation. He seemed miles away. His eyebrows rose as he surfaced from whatever had stunned him, and smiled at Noelle. “Miss Parker?” he said, his off-center gaze not hiding his curiosity. It was as if he were going to say something but whatever the memory was had slipped back in again and stolen the rest of his words.
“What is it?” she asked. There was so much wisdom in his face, so many years of knowledge, that she was intrigued to learn more about this millionaire old man.
He shook his head, his lips still set in a smile. “You just reminded me of an old story,” he said, right before his face sobered. He cleared his throat. “All right,” he said, the moment gone. “If you’d like to follow me around like a puppy all day while my grandson pays you to do so, then so be it. But I won’t need any help.”
“Understood,” she said, not wanting to rock the boat on the first day and also wondering how she’d ever get him to take his heart medicine at noon.
They walked the rest of the hallway in silence as William tottered, leaning on his cane with every step. It was whittled in a pattern with a shiny bulb on the top, the wood so smooth it looked like rock. His weathered hands wrapped over the top of it, his grip firm. She wondered about who he’d been as a young man. Had he grown up here? The way Alex had spoken about the line of men who’d owned this home, it seemed that he would have lived here. If so, what had taken him to New York? How long had he been away? He must have sensed one of her glances in his direction, tilting his head toward her, and she quickly looked straight ahead.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her point blank, her suspicions confirmed.