Sweet Christmas Kisses (159 page)

“A what?”

“Mopey and sad, like you’d lost your best friend.”

She might have. Noelle hadn’t seen much of Michael since
the kiss
. One bone-melting kiss and then nothing. As if the brief interlude in the shadows of her parents’ house had never happened.

Maybe he wished it hadn’t. Maybe he was disgusted with himself for kissing his brother’s former fiancée. Maybe what her mother had said was true about his family objecting to a relationship.

And maybe she had turned into a basket case.

“Hello?” Devon waved a tong in her face. “Noelle? Where did you go?”

With a start, she snapped to attention. “Oh… sorry. I’ve got so much going on.”

Yeah, like why it would be a bad idea to kiss Michael Campbell again.

“I thought perhaps you were thinking about your hunky Santa’s helper.”

Noelle managed not to flinch. Barely. “Michael?”

“You don’t have another hot assistant hanging around, do you? I’d find it hard to concentrate around him, too.”

“It’s not like that,” Noelle insisted.

Devon arched a perfectly shaped dark brow. “Maybe it should be.”

The last thing Noelle needed was encouragement. She backed up several steps. “I have to get back to work.”

Work was good. Work would keep her mind occupied.

Especially when the work included displays involving living people.

“Coming through! Diaper explosion!”

Noelle rounded the corner of the nativity set and slammed into Mary… as in the mother of Jesus. The screaming baby in Mary’s arms squawked his outrage.

“I’m so sorry!” Mary, aka Lillibeth Brown, plopped the howling infant onto a bale of hay and started unraveling his swaddling clothes. “Emergency diaper change!”

Lillibeth wasn’t kidding about an explosion. The baby had unloaded what looked like an entire week’s worth of number two. Noxious fumes exploded into the air, nearly knocking Noelle to the ground.

She clamped a hand over her nose. “Lillibeth, what have you been feeding Baby Jesus?”

“Good old-fashioned mama’s milk. George has very healthy bowels. Don’t you, Georgie?” She whipped the diaper off like a matador flourishing a red cape and shoved it into Noelle’s hands. “Hold this for a second.”

Noelle held the horrid-smelling bomb away from her body with the tips of two fingers. With three nieces, she had familiarity with dirty diapers but couldn’t recall the girls ever unleashing anything so overpowering.

Lillibeth reached under her dress and unearthed a package of wet wipes and a clean diaper.

“Do you have an entire bag up your skirt?” Noelle asked in wonder.

“No, it’s all strapped on with a money belt,” Lillibeth said, flashing a grin. “We did this a couple years ago with my daughter, and I learned to have emergency supplies with me at all times.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Hey, even Baby Jesus had to get his nappy changed occasionally.”

“Somehow, I can’t picture the Almighty being so profuse in His emissions,” Noelle said as Lillibeth cleaned up her son.

Faster than Noelle could have imagined, little Georgie had a fresh, new diaper. The tyke’s wails ceased, and he kicked, chortling as he chewed on his fist. Lillibeth flicked his nose as she twisted the swaddling clothes around the boy again. Baby Jesus’ outfit was bunched up, and patches of skin showed through, but he was happy.

“I’m off,” Lillibeth said, picking up her son. “See you later.” She headed toward the stable, but then stopped and spun around. “The diaper.”

Amazingly, Noelle had almost forgotten she still held it. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Everyone is waiting for the Holy Family. You go on.”

Once Lillibeth had disappeared, she could only stare at the revolting object in her hand.

Now what?

Noelle managed to dispose of little Georgie’s big stink bomb and continue on her tour of the Christmas Village. Leaving Mary and Baby Jesus behind, Noelle headed toward Santa’s domain. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she was nearly knocked off her feet again… this time by a female elf.

“Sorry!” The elf scrambled around Noelle, stumbled over to the bushes, and lost her cookies in the greenery.

“Whoa!” Noelle happened to have a couple napkins from her tour of the food carts, and she whipped them out. “Mindy, are you all right?”

“I think it’s the flu,” the young woman said on a low wail.

“Oh no.”

“I felt strange earlier, but it’s gotten worse, and now I think I have a fever.”

Not good at all. “You should take the rest of the night off and rest,” Noelle said. “Plus, I don’t want you making the entire town sick.”

“I can’t just leave,” Mindy said. “There are tons of people out there, and between you and me, Simon is a stuck-up diva. Thinks he’s doing Shakespeare in the Park or something.”

“I’ll handle Simon… but before you go, I need your clothes.”

A few minutes later, Noelle discovered elf hose itched like crazy and that being tall had disadvantages when it came to playing Santa’s helper. She walked out from behind the workshop, pulling at the miniscule skirt, which barely covered her rear assets. One wrong move and she’d be flashing Kris Kringle and everyone else in Covington Falls.

Simon the diva elf-eyed Noelle with disdain as she approached. “About time,” he said. “I’ll definitely tell the boss about your unnecessary breaks.”

“Oh, don’t worry. The boss already knows,” Noelle said in an overly sweet tone.

“Mindy is sick tonight. I’m filling in for a couple hours.”

The elf nodded.

“Let’s get to work. We’ve got a back-up,” Noelle said, gesturing to the swelling wave of humanity waiting for a picture with Santa. “You get the kids settled, and I’ll take the pictures.”

“My contract says I only wear the costume,” Simon said. “I never touch the kids.”

“I’m sorry?” Noelle said.

“Section three, addendum eighteen point five. Talent — that’s me — shall not be required to touch any minor child.”

Noelle stared at him in astonishment. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s for my protection. Putting my hands on a kid is an invitation to lawsuit. It’s bad enough I’m forced to wear this idiotic costume when I could be playing Hamlet in the Savannah Shakespeare Festival, but I’m not going to court over some snot-nosed brat.”

Incensed, Noelle grabbed Simon by his little green elf collar and hauled him close. “First of all, don’t ever say your costume is idiotic where any child could overhear. Second, don’t call them snot-nosed brats where
I
can hear you. And third, don’t you dare malign my neighbors by saying one of them would sue you.”

Simon twisted out of her grasp. “My contract states—”

“Fine. You take pictures. I’ll handle the kids.”

“I wasn’t hired to take pictures.”

“Get behind the camera, Simon.” She pointed a finger. “Go.”

Apparently, whatever the diva-elf saw in her face was enough to make him think twice about protesting again.

Noelle spent the next two hours hoisting children on and off Santa’s lap. The babies weren’t bad, but some of the older kids weighed a lot. Then there were the screamers who clung to her, wailing in terror as she approached the great bearded one.

A couple of the babies spit up on her. By the end of the night, Noelle’s entire body ached, she’d lost several clumps of hair, and she was emitting noxious fumes to rival little George’s healthy bowels. When operations shut down for the night, she had never been happier. The crowds dispersed, and Simon the diva-elf scurried off to sulk. Her workforce of volunteers began the ritual of closing up. Thankfully, someone agreed to take the animals back to their trailer while Noelle took on the task of shutting down Santa’s Workshop. She rolled Santa’s throne back into the structure and secured the padlock on the door.

“You’re an elf now?”

Noelle squeaked. Michael stood a few feet away, leaning against a lamppost. The overhead light seemed to cast a heavenly glow around him.

She eyed him with wariness. It had been days since they’d kissed and the world as she’d known it had changed. Whether it was for the better, Noelle hadn’t decided. She did need to test something, however.

“I thought you had to work tonight,” she said, walking toward him.

He didn’t move from his position, but watched her approach with caution. “I finished early, so I thought I’d come see if you needed help.”

“I’m good.”

His mouth quirked and his gaze trailed from her pointy-toed shoes to her candy-cane-stockinged legs to the little cap on her head. “You do make look cute.”

“I’m a mess, and I smell like sour milk.”

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Really? It’s hard to tell what you think. You took off like your pants were on fire the other night, and you’ve been avoiding me ever since.”

“I’ve had work.”

Noelle ignored the flimsy excuse. “I had an interesting conversation with my mom the morning after. Someone saw us.”

“Phyllis Horton,” Michael said. “She told on me, too.”

“She’s worried about us.”

“Mrs. Horton?” he quipped.

She gave him a withering glare. “My mother.”

He stopped pretending to be obtuse. “Let me guess, your mother doesn’t like you hanging out with a Campbell.”

“Yes… well, that’s not her real concern. Her real concern is
your
family’s reaction to me. To the idea of you and me.”

Michael stiffened, and his jaw clenched. If she hadn’t been studying him so closely, she might have missed the brief flash of emotion.

The air left Noelle’s lungs in a whoosh. “She was right.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter—“ Michael said.

“It doesn’t matter that your parents hate me?”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Strong hands landed on her shoulders. “It’s more complicated than that. My mom… she misses Doug.”

“And she blames me for him being gone. I bet she wishes I had moved away. Then Doug would be free to come back.”

His silence confirmed her second assumption, too. Hurt and dismay lodged in her chest.

“What did you tell her?”

“What could I say?” Michael asked. “I hadn’t considered how my parents have been feeling all this time, and we’re…” He broke off, scrubbing his face in frustration.

They were…
whatever
they were.

She pushed away from him and walked a few paces to grip the fake wooden fence surrounding Santa’s Workshop. How had things gotten so out of hand? How could she have ever imagined there could be anything between her and Michael that wouldn’t lead to disappointment for everyone? The last thing she wanted was to cause more pain for Janine Campbell.

“You can tell your mother she has nothing to worry about,” Noelle said.

Hay crunched under his feet as he moved closer. “What?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “It was just a kiss, after all. I was scared, and you tried to comfort me. Things got a little out of control, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Is that how you feel?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

“I could ask you the same question. You’ve been absent ever since. Regardless, I don’t think a moment of weakness or loneliness is worth hurting everyone we love. Do you?”

His eyes shut, and she watched his throat work. “I guess you’re right.”

A part of her wished he would argue. That he wanted to take a risk.

“I won’t abandon you,” he said. “I mean, the holiday celebration. I’ll still help whenever I can.”

“I know you will.” Noelle kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

A tinkling bell accompanied her cousin’s a cappella Christmas tune as Millie breezed into St. Nicks’ Closet.

Holly straightened from the box of nutcrackers she was emptying. “Hi there.”

“You’re certainly in a good mood,” Noelle said.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Millie gazed around at the crowded shelves. “It looks great in here. Sorry I haven’t been by. I feel like I should be doing more to help.”

“So do I.” Without missing a beat, Noelle thrust a box of Christmas aprons into her cousin’s arms. “You can hang these up in the baking area.”

Millie gazed down at the box. “That’s not really why I came in.” 

“Too bad. Holly needs help unloading the boxes, and I have to set up the tables outside before a mountain of cookies descend.”

Millie’s eyes lit up. “Oh… that’s right. It’s cookie day!”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Holly said. “The cookies have been arriving since seven this morning. The storeroom smells like a bakery.”

“I did forget actually, but that’s because I have great news. Do you remember the new doctor I mentioned at Andrew’s practice?”

“Vaguely,” Noelle said, eyeing her cousin with suspicion. Surely Millie wasn’t trying to…

“His name is Kirk Granger, and he’s an orthopedic surgeon,” Millie said. “He’s cute.”

She might have succeeded if not for an interfering older sister. “How cute?” Holly jumped in.

“
Very
,” Millie said, turning to her new ally. “Blond hair, blue eyes, great smile. He is divorced, but that shouldn’t be too big of an issue.”

“I like him already,” Holly said.

“How can you like someone you’ve never met?” Noelle asked in exasperation.

“He’s not Michael Campbell, for one.”

“Michael?” Millie’s high-pitched squeal reverberated off the rafters. “Are you involved with him?”

“No!” Noelle and Holly shouted in unison.

“I understand if you like him,” Millie said. “I mean, he is hot, and he’s been so helpful, but he’s also Doug’s brother, and that would be… strange. Really awkwardly strange.”

“I’m aware of that. I’m also aware he’s a great kisser.” Noelle gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. How stupid could she be? She blamed the gaffe on a string of sleepless nights.

“What?” This time the ensemble question came from Holly and Millie.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Holly said.

No way to avoid an inquisition now. “I wish I could.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Millie jumped in. “I’m your cousin.”

“She didn’t tell me either and
I’m
her
sister
,” Holly said. “I get first dibs on hearing about midnight trysts with hot, sexy men.”