Christmas on 4th Street (Fool's Gold #12.5)

“Well, if I do, I’m all over him,” she murmured as she went through her pre-opening ritual. She turned up the heat, made sure the trains were running, checked the selection of Christmas music on her iPod and then moved toward the cash register. She had just finished counting ones, fives and tens when someone knocked on the still-locked front door.

Her stomach gave her a name before she even looked up. Sure enough, Gabriel stood there, right on time, still tall and, worse, smiling.

“Hi,” she said, unfastening the lock and letting him in. “You’re here.”

“As promised.”

“That’s nice. Where did you park? I like to save the spaces out front for customers.”

He shrugged out of his coat. There was a light dusting of snow on his hair and he wore a navy sweater that brought out the deeper blue tones of his eyes. He could have stepped out of one of those funny “woman to woman” Christmas cards.

“I walked.”

She stared at him. “Down the mountain? It’s, like, five miles or more. Are you insane? It’s freezing cold and snowing. You can’t walk that far in this weather. Oh, my God, I’ve hired a crazy person.”

He dropped his coat onto the counter and put his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe.”

“I’m not going to faint.”

“No, you’re going to pop a blood vessel. Breathe.”

She was less interested in breathing than the feel of his large hands holding her. If only he would pull her closer or maybe cop a feel, she thought wistfully.

“I’m staying in town,” he said. “My parents rented a little apartment for the holidays. It’s not much more than a studio. They decided to stay at Gideon’s when they saw how much room he had, so I took the rental instead.” He dropped his arms to his sides and shrugged. “It’s plenty big enough for me and they get more time with Carter.”

She decided not to comment on the sudden lack of hands on her arm and instead focused on the conversation. “It was getting too intense?” she asked.

He grimaced. “My mother carted photo albums with her. Last night we relived our childhood, year by year.”

“There had to be happy times.”

“There were. When we were younger, we moved around a lot. Once my dad became a drill sergeant, we settled.”

Which didn’t exactly say when the happy times were. “Camp Pendleton?”

He smiled. “Don’t let my dad hear you say that. That’s in San Diego and it’s the marines. We’re army. We were at Fort Knox, Kentucky.”

Somewhere she had never been. “I’m sure it was lovely.”

“That’s one way to describe it.” The smile faded. “My dad and I were never close. He was a tough guy and I wasn’t a tough kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I got through it then and I’ll get through it now. It’s only for a few weeks, right?”

She nodded, thinking how much she wanted to tell him to be grateful he had family at all. She’d never known her dad—he’d run off before she’d been born. But that had been okay because she’d been raised by her grandmother and her mother. The two women had been warm and loving and she’d had a blessed and happy childhood.

Even after she’d moved to Los Angeles for law school, they’d stayed close. The two women had driven out to spend every summer with her. They’d been there to celebrate with her when she’d landed her first real job at a prestigious law firm in Century City and had screamed and celebrated with her when she’d passed the bar.

Only they’d been killed during a twenty-five-car pileup on I-10 while driving back to Florida. Noelle missed them every day of her life and would give anything to have them back.

But she’d also learned that telling people that only made them feel guilty. That Gabriel would have to figure out for himself the need to appreciate what he had, while he had it.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll show you where to put your stuff. I need you to fill out a W-4 for my accountant and then I’ll give you a tour of the store.”

Fifteen minutes later, it was official. Gabriel Boylan was an employee of The Christmas Attic.

She walked him through the basic layout. “I keep baskets up front,” she said, showing him the stack of lightweight oval baskets. “Most of what we carry is small. Encourage the baskets. Otherwise, when a customer gets her hands full, she tends to head for the register.”

“Makes sense.”

“You can see we have sections. Ornaments and home decorating over there, the nativities on that wall.”

“Including gourds?”

“You think I’m kidding. You need to go check it out.”

“I will.”

“The bears are over there, with all the kid stuff close by. We have some books, but mostly send people looking for Christmas books over to Morgan’s.”

“Don’t you want to have Christmas books here?” he asked.

“No. Not with a perfectly good bookstore less than a block away. I’m not stepping on any toes. What if every other store started carrying ornaments and teddy bears?”

“Or this,” Gabriel said, picking up a Santa pin from a display.

She leaned close and moved the hidden switch on the back. Santa’s nose lit up.