Her Surprise Christmas Noel: Four women, one pact: find a date for Christmas (Christmas Kisses Book 2)

by Kenna Shaw Reed

  I wanted to write a note. Tell her how much this road-trip and not being alone meant to me. That taking me home to experience a real, family Christmas was giving me something I’d never had. The blank post it note was too small for what I wanted to write and too large for what I could say. “Thanks, but I don’t need it, after all,” I thanked the cashier. Pocketing the cash in a roll easy to drop into JoJo’s bag, I’d explain later.

  The edge of the notebook cut into my leg through the thin plastic bag. Dreams come true—could it be possible in less than one day, she’d made mine?

  JoJo

  Oh, my sunshine and light!

  Luckily, our meals hadn’t arrived before Noel rejoined me for breakfast. Pale blue sleeveless shirt over chestnut brown pull up shorts. The ill-fitting worked a treat with the shorts snug in all the right places and the shirt giving me glimpse of the chest I’d only started to get to know.

  Fake boyfriend be damned.

  My earlier reservations about his stubborn streak disappeared when we checked out of the motel. He’d listened, actually listened to my reasoning, and let me pay. No false male ego or other shit.

  How could I not fall in love with a man who had been gentle and caring, with a body like Noel’s, and who listened.

  Fall in love?

  Yep, blame it on the Christmas spirit but if I had my laptop opened to my evaluation criteria for a partner—Noel would be ticking most of my boxes.

  “Good timing.” I smiled as our meals arrived before he’d kissed me and took his seat. “I see you’ve traded in my board shorts.”

  “I figured they can be my pajamas at your parents’ place, if you’re willing to abide by the rules—” His eyes opened just a tad bigger when he teased, a small tell I could live with.

  “I don’t do well with rules,” I cautioned before dad could warn him.

  “If you buy them, you get to remove them.”

  “So, I should watch out if you start buying me lingerie?”

  “Or swim-wear. I’d like to see what you look like in lycra, just for a comparative analysis!” He teased, using the business speak I was sure he used in more appropriate situations.

  “I like the way you think.”

  Only the second meal I’d watched him eat and I liked the ordered way he went about his Eggs Benedict. Carefully slicing through the egg and toast, making sure he had a portion of the English spinach and salmon on his fork; tasting all the elements in each mouthful. As the chef would have expected and wanted.

  I had avoided anything requiring a knife and fork, the bircher muesli not my fav but with Greek yoghurt instead of milk, a high protein meal to get me through to wherever we would be stopping for lunch.

  “Where to today?” Noel asked as we finished our meal and called for the cheque.

  “Pinnaroo. Another budget hotel, but we’ll have the same sleeping challenge.” My turn to tease.

  “What would that be?” His hands cupped mine and I wished we could quickly go back to our room for another half an hour before heading westward.

  One kiss. Two kisses. Oh, this man would be the death of me—or at least the reason we should never be allowed out in public. If able to arise without crutches, I could have quite easily slid into his lap and made out until the owner became the first to have us banned. I hoped this fake boyfriend thing could last until my body was fully able to create the havoc on Noel that we both deserved.

  “Well?” He reminded me, his face as flushed as mine felt. Good. I didn’t need an instruction manual, just Noel’s body as my personal play gym.

  “There’s only one bed and I don’t know if they have enough pillows for a wall.”

  Laughing, he helped me to my feet, “How about if I want any sleep, I’ll be on your right side so you can’t attack me.”

  “Attack you? Baby, I’m fairly sure you’re the one who came to me last night.” Damn him, I couldn’t wait for my bruised shoulder to heal so I could find my way on top. Or at least be more than a passive partner.

  “So, if that’s the only challenge, then bring on Pinnaroo. The quicker we get there the quicker we can sort out the non-sleeping arrangements.”

  “Mr. Roberts, I like the way you think.”

  I refused his help in my hobble to the bathroom. Noel went off to look for the waitress, not that he’d find much luck. I’d already paid when ordering. Such a small token of how much I appreciated him offering to come to Adelaide—and for last night. In any case, we were only going to Adelaide because of my family, I owed it to him to pay my own way.

  I could have drained all the water in Wagga and it still wouldn’t be enough to calm my hormones. The blush from my face reached my nipples! Unheard of, but then again, the way Noel made me feel was pretty bloody unique. Still, I needed to get a grip and after drying my face left-handed, I searched my handbag for anything resembling make up, surely, I’d have a lip gloss and foundation in one of the many pockets.

  Feeling around, I knew what most things were. Pens—yes, I counted six; two lipsticks, pencil eyeliner and mascara, phone charger cables and half a dozen breath mints.

  A wad of paper. Not paper, plastic paper folded together with an elastic. Nothing I recognized as mine. I didn’t want to expose it to the light, suspicions were enough to feel a different flush, but I needed to be sure.

  Damn him.

  Damn him to hell and back.

  Hiding in the bathroom couldn’t last forever, I needed to get out so we could keep driving but I couldn’t stop the waves of emotion.

  Fury—who the hell did he think he was, dropping over five hundred dollars in my bag? He touched my handbag, unheard of and almost unforgivable on its own.

  Worst of all, he gave me money—payment for services rendered last night? Was this way of not having to feel guilty if we said our farewells in Adelaide on Boxing Day? Some feeble attempt to make sure he didn’t owe me anything.

  I owe him everything.

  Bullshit. I worked bloody hard to earn decent money and this was my trip to Adelaide. None of our expenses so far exceeded my budget. Okay, the hospital visit and hiring the crutches, and needing a new case for my new phone. But everything else, had a featured line item in my Christmas Holiday spreadsheet.

  If the great Australian dream was to buy a house, then call me a dreamer with a plan. By the end of March, I’d have paid off Christmas and be able to start spending my weekends at property auctions.

  I’d worked hard and this Noel guy thought he could turn up and throw an unbudgeted five hundred dollars at me? I fumed, incapable of going out and facing my nemesis.

  You are being unreasonable. He can obviously afford it.

  Fuck my inner voice of reason. The cold tap ran over my wrist and I tried every calming technique my old yoga class promised would become second nature. Nothing. The best I could do was not want to smash him with my crutches.

  Noel knew from my eyes, or perhaps because my body recoiled at the thought of kissing him on my return. Of course, he didn’t care about the waitress already being paid—his stack of twenty-dollar notes took care of a miserly little breakfast.

  “You found it.” He didn’t pose it as a question.

  “Not here.” No matter how much I wanted to lash out and scream; until I had the words formed into neat and coherent sentences in my mind, Noel only needed to know I was pissed.

  And the pillow wall wouldn’t be necessary to keep us apart.

  His inability to read the room, or at least know me, had undone yesterday, last night and whatever I wanted from today.

  Stubborn shit of a man couldn’t let a girl pay her own way?

  Not content to have an adult discussion, what did he think I’d do when finding the cash?

  Despite knowing how overly dramatic and even unreasonable my anger was, I couldn’t help but place Noel in a lengthy line of men who didn’t listen when they thought they knew better.

  I was single, but better to be single with self-respect than reliant on a man.


  Um, what about him driving you to Adelaide?

  Different. Completely different—he totaled my car, and this was his atonement.

  A lift to the airport and paying for a ticket would have been atonement. He took you to hospital, bought you a phone and is being a gentleman.

  Shut up, inner voice.

  Again, knowing my thoughts were illogical, unreasonable and that most single women of a certain age would be swooning at Noel’s generosity didn’t help or stop my anger.

  I’ve never asked for much in a partner. Being treated as an equal wasn’t even an optional extra. In the list of priorities for my future partner, being treated as an equal was before Monogamy and after Trusted.

  Yesterday I thought Noel could be all three, but now?

  Mental note to self, don’t get into a cold war at the beginning of another day sharing a car.

  Further to previous note to self, don’t decide to be a stubborn, righteous, prima donna before driving across the Hay plains. Almost five hours of driving along a straight road, no curves, or hills in sight. Nothing for me to look at out the window and of course, my pride stopped me from looking at what—or who was in the car with me.

  “Really?” I forced as much distain as I could muster without turning towards him.

  “You don’t like RHCP?” Noel asked, probably stunned at the sound of my voice. “What about this?” He skipped to the next song on his playlist. I didn’t recognize it but out of spite I snorted my derision.

  “We could listen to real music—but no—something happened to my mobile on the way to Adelaide.”

  Okay, we both had to hide our sniggers at that one. Easier to stay mad at him by not talking and closing down any music choice, even if I was a huge RHCP fan and had organized one of my project visits around being able to see them when they toured Australia.

  Other than stopping for petrol, at which time I made a point of paying by credit card before he could get to the register, we didn’t stop to enjoy the small country towns with their fresh bakeries and coffees, the road side stops for their views, or talk. In total, we had seven hours of silent hostility to the point I couldn’t even defend why I was still so mad.

  The silence gave me time to self-analyze my reaction.

  Independence had always been my hallmark, a badge of honor.

  Forged out of a childhood of being teased.

  “What sort of name is JoJo?”

  “Are you named after a clown?”

  “Look at her, do you paint those freckles on each day or are you naturally ugly?”

  “She looks like a boy; can her parents even tell her apart from her brothers?”

  Hurtful jibes from ten-year-old girls who should have known better but didn’t. I couldn’t trust anyone to help with class projects or homework. At high school, I couldn’t trust a boy to be interested in me—not after one of the popular boys pretended to have a crush on me for almost a term before announcing his joke.

  Yeah, that demoralizing joke had been on me.

  Weeks of torment, thinking his flirting couldn’t be real but when I summoned up the courage to go out with him—well the joke was public, humiliating and the last time I considered dating in high school.

  At university I didn’t fare much better, at least in the finding people to trust stakes. The mining boom had peaked and instead of knowing we could name our own price on graduation; each engineering student played a solo game. After being accused of plagiarizing from another student—only a dozen drafts proving who had been the real cheat—I stopped trying to either rely on people or fit in.

  Women looked at me with my Kate Hudson blonde hair and body and wanted to lock up their men. Men associated blonde with bimbo and became offended when I had brains and attitude.

  Until Noel crashed into my life yesterday and showed me banter was the best form of flirting.

  He’d made me feel like a woman, a desirable woman despite or even in spite of my situation. It had taken seven hours of reflection to understand why Noel’s generous offer of time and money had been so difficult to accept with grace. Although last night—well he could do that to me any time.

  Not that he’d want to after my bitch act today.

  “Not long now.” His voice didn’t show any frustration, either at me or for a full day of boring driving.

  “I’ll plug in the address.”

  “Fine.”

  Our longest conversation all day and if I could have dragged it out, I would have.

  Noel

  Some bitches be crazy.

  I’d spent an entire day trying to place the quote. A book or movie? Had to be, but which one? Bogart or Cary Grant—no they were always the gentlemen. Someone more modern like Clooney or Pitt? Nah, Clooney’s comedic timing could handle the line, but pretty-boy Pitt would have wriggled out of trouble with his ass.

  A day knowing I’d stuffed things up with the cash, but nothing prepared me for her over-the top reaction. Seriously?

  Seven hours of deathly silence all because I wanted to help out, pay my way. Didn’t she understand how much I needed and deserved a Christmas spent with people who thought family was something special, not to be avoided. I’d have paid double, triple even, to have what she had.

  No, and she didn’t even have the balls or guts to talk about it. Offer up why it pissed her off so much so we could discuss it like adults.

  Adults who wanted a relationship that could last longer than Boxing Day. Because regardless of the last day of silent hell, I did if she did.

  Despite my inner voice screaming I was letting a woman walk all over me—again—I wanted to savor these moments as if they were our last. Only now, I was willing to forgo the whole fake break-up scene. If we could survive the drive to Adelaide, then we could survive the way back to Sydney, but instead of dropping her back at home, we could turn up at Sydney Tower. I planned to wine and dine her in the manner we both deserved. See in the New Year the way I wanted to spend the new year—together.

  Some bitches might be crazy, but JoJo was my kind of crazy.

  “No. Food.”

  JoJo wouldn’t even plug in the address of our hotel, insisting in a series of one-word sentences that she wanted food. Yeah, I’d prefer to avoid the hangry JoJo, but this silence between us was deafening.

  Demoralizing.

  Destroying whatever we had before we had a chance to figure out what it could be.

  I wanted to find our hotel, sit on the bed, and give her the space to talk. Communicate like adults instead of sulking like teenagers. There had been times on the drive, her lips twitched, and I actually thought she’d found the words to start.

  But nothing.

  At least, not yet.

  Most sensible people were at home getting ready for Christmas and I took advantage of JoJo’s silence to pull up at a Chinese restaurant. Really, I could predict the menu without reading. Not a country town in Australia was immune from Asian cuisine but usually, the more country the less authentic and more westernized. I’d even found some places that offered fried chips instead of fried rice. Yes, there were some wonderful gems that shocked in their depth of flavor, but was it a risk JoJo was prepared to take tonight?

  “No, we can do better.”

  “Ah, she speaks!” As I joked, she hobbled around on her crutches, giving me a death stare. I chose to believe a smile was hiding behind her attitude. “What would princess wish for dinner—and just because you pick the restaurant doesn’t mean you get to pick up the cheque.”

  “Really? We’re gonna have that conversation out here?”

  “Well, either we talk about it and you tell me why your panties got into a crumpled mess back in Wagga, or you can order whatever you want to eat from whatever place is still open, and I’ll enjoy my satay chicken and spring rolls.”

  I never ordered satay chicken from a Chinese restaurant and unless the spring rolls were guaranteed to be homemade, they were usually a pass. But I was desperate for JoJo to make her move.


  “I feel like pizza.”

  “Franchise chain or real.”

  “Real. I found a place around the corner. Apparently, they make their own dough and the tomato base is slow cooked for two days.”

  “You read about pizza?”

  “Better than talking to you.”

  “About that, we should.”

  “I know, but not without pizza.”

  “Are you going to get back in the car so we can drive around the corner or hobble so your pride can hurt as much as your ankle.”

  “It hurts.” JoJo had stopped, the pain etched across her face and already she was suffering in the heat. By now, we were half a block away from my car and half a block away from the corner she was aiming for. I didn’t care if it was her ankle or pride, this beautiful woman was hurting, and I wanted to fix it.

  Fix her.

  “The way I see it, you have two choices.” I approached her with caution, as if she was a scared kitten. Or a skittish foal unwilling to feel her first bridle.

  “They would be?” Despite her obvious pain, JoJo wobbled stoically on her crutches.

  “You can wait here, while I get the car, drive around the corner and you tell me what you want from their online menu. Pay for it using your credit card if you want, but you stay in the car while I get it.”

  “Or?”

  “You let me carry you back to the car, we drive to this amazing pizza place, you let me carry you inside and we see if it serves beer while we wait.”

  I watched her fight with herself, rolling one perfect pink lip between her teeth. I tried once more, “It’s the lead up before Christmas. I’m sure they want to close early, and we still need to check in.”

  “Please.” A soft cry for a truce.

  I didn’t wait to be asked twice, carefully setting aside her crutches so I could pick her up in one movement. Careful of her shoulder and ankle, it took a couple of shimmies to adjust her in my arms. Her left arm around my neck and I resisted the urge to plant a string of kisses behind her sensitive ear.

  Instead of taking her back to the car, I kept going until the smell of garlic and basil gave away the pizza restaurant before the sign came into view. Backing through the swinging door, I congratulated myself on being able to deposit JoJo into a booth without jarring her leg.