Chapter Four
Noah met Stevie as she came down the front stairs the following morning. She looked like she was prepared to get to work. Her hair was smoothed back into a bun again. She had on jeans, an old Howard University hoodie, and . . . bunny slippers?
She noticed him looking and struck a pose. “It’s what all the hip botanists are wearing these days.” Still smiling, she let her hands drop to her sides. “My rubber boots are in the mudroom. I left them there last night. After . . . you know?”
He grinned at that. “You know?”
She lowered her voice. “Well, I didn’t know if you wanted the world to know—”
She’d stopped on the bottom step, which put her mouth quite conveniently directly in line with his. He took advantage of that.
“Well then,” she said a bit breathlessly when he finally lifted his head. “I suppose that’s my answer.”
A low whistle and smattering of applause startled her. She and Noah both looked through the big archway to the left that led from the front foyer of the inn to a room with a big fireplace and a dozen or so tables of varying styles presently set for breakfast. Guests were mingling by the big coffeepot and the trays of bagels and Danish. A few others were already seated with bowls of oatmeal or snacking on muffins.
“Where did all those people come from?” she leaned down and whispered.
Noah smiled, nodded at the folks, then took Stevie’s hand and led her down the last step. “They checked in while you were out playing in the dirt yesterday.”
“Ah,” she said, that lovely hint of pink in her cheeks again, then smiled and lifted her hand in a little wave to everyone as they passed the archway on the way back to the kitchen. “So . . . I guess that takes care of that.”
Noah chuckled. “You have no idea. The whole town will know in about, oh, one-point-two seconds.” He pushed through the swinging door, still holding on to her hand. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, he turned and moved her neatly into his arms. “Good morning,” he said, looking down into her upturned face.
“It sure has been so far,” she quipped, her gaze searching his.
“If you’re uncomfortable with public displays—I should have asked,” he began. “I blame the slippers. I’m a sucker for bunnies. Zero impulse control. Just saying.”
She silenced any further disclaimers by pulling his head down and kissing him. He enthusiastically responded. By the time she let go of him, they were half sprawled over the work island. “Well,” he said a little hoarsely when they finally managed to break apart, “the bunnies have spoken.”
Stevie smoothed her hair back and straightened her hoodie. “You did say time was of the essence.”
“I did,” he agreed, chuckling. She was warm and sweet, and he didn’t mind her assertiveness. Not even a little bit. “I like a woman who goes after what she wants.”
“So noted,” she said, a mischievous light sparking to life in those luminous eyes of hers.
He reluctantly started getting breakfast supplies out of the industrial-sized fridge. “Sleep well?”
“Once I managed to get my rioting hormones under control, I slept like a baby. That bed is heaven.”
He chuckled, liking that she didn’t pull any punches. “Memory foam. It’s the dream. And yeah, long about three a.m. I was seriously debating taking a dip in the snow myself.” He sent her a fast smile. “Cool things off.” He took out a bowl and began cracking eggs.
“Where’s the new chef? Or does he only do dinners?”
“When we’re under fifty percent booked, I handle breakfast, and he’s on the hook for lunch and dinner. Over that, it’s all hands on deck. He’ll be hiring his own staff of three sous chefs who will rotate shifts, but we have until spring to get that done before the summer season kicks in. This will be the only full-up week we have during the winter. Then it’s just occasional weekends at full capacity until April.”
“That’s . . . amazing. And all the way out here, too.”
“Well, we have fishing, kayaking, hiking. We’re not far from the Appalachian Trail. And now that the crafters’ guild is moving into the renovated silk mill, a whole new tribe of folks will be coming up this way.” He smiled as he started beating the eggs. “I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m not the only game in town, so I’m not taking anything for granted.”
“But you’ve clearly already built up a good reputation, and you said you’re booked with regulars for Christmas. You may not always be the only, but you will always be the first and the longest running.”
He nodded. “That’s how I see it. I’m actually pretty excited about the new guy. I’ve had a few chefs over the years since I opened.”
“Are they as temperamental as they seem on those television cooking shows?”
“Pretty much,” he said with a laugh. “But I’ve also learned a thing or two about what to look for, and not just in the cooking skills department. I think I’ve hit the right combination this time, and with the reputation the inn has earned, I had a pretty good group of respondents to choose from.” He smiled. “High hopes. If he ever gets here.”
“What’s happened?”
“He was visiting his family early for the holidays so he could jump in here and not need to run off again any time too soon, which was great. Only he got snowed in at the airport he was departing from. He made it out to Dulles only to have his connecting flight to the small airport out here cancelled due to the snowstorm. So, he rented a big four-wheel drive, and then that broke down in the middle of nowhere. He had to hitchhike just to find a signal to call me.”
“Wow. Poor guy can’t catch a break. And now, neither can you.”
Noah carried the big copper bowl of eggs to one of the deep-sided griddles and slowly poured it in. “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before. And he gets bonus points for determination.”
“Will he get out here by tomorrow? It will be Christmas Eve, and you said you’re full up from then to New Year’s Day.”
“Jenny and Melanie came back to help with dinner last night and bunked in once we heard the weather report. So they’re out in the dining room right now helping with coffee, juice, and the continental breakfast items. We’ll get dug out sometime later today, once the snow stops.”
“Dug out?”
He finished laying one package of bacon strips on another griddle and had opened another wrapped package, but paused to look at her. “You haven’t looked outside?”
“I—guess not. Wait . . . did we get more snow? I thought you meant the snow that happened before I arrived yesterday.”
“Oh that? That was a dusting. I’m talking about the snow that started last night when we were busy . . . you know,” he said, echoing her earlier phraseology.
“Ah,” she said. “Right. I guess I was otherwise, uh . . . occupied this morning and didn’t notice.”
It looked as if she might be blushing again. When her gaze darted around the room, landing anywhere but on him, he suspected he knew the reason. “Otherwise occupied?” he repeated.
“Um . . . maybe.” Now she was definitely blushing. She smiled bravely and simply owned it. “Let’s just say I wasn’t as successful with that hormone wrangling as I’d hoped.”
He had to work very, very hard not to pull up an image of what her morning . . . wrangling, might have looked like. He failed. Miserably. Now it was his turn to look anywhere else but at her. And be damn thankful he was facing the workstation. “I, uh . . . feel your pain.”
She snickered at that. “And I cannot believe we’re having this particular conversation.”
“I’m not well trained socially,” he said, lining another griddle with bacon, then moving on to the sausage patties and links.
“You run an inn,” she said, laughing. “A very popular one if the crowd in your dining room is anything to go by.”
He gave her his best boyish grin, the one that always got his mama to make him an extra round of her famous Belgian waffles. “I’m pretty sure they just feel sorry for me. Hence the cheer there earlier.”
While he moved back to the griddle with the eggs to start working them into a nice, fluffy yellow scramble, Stevie walked over and began turning the bacon. She jumped back a little when the slices hissed and spit a little grease. “Do you have an extra apron? Though why I’m worried about this old sweatshirt is beyond me.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
She paused mid-bacon-turn. “Uh-oh. I’m probably violating a dozen health codes doing this, right? My hands are clean, I swear. My hair is back.” She put the tongs down. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“You’re a guest,” he said good-naturedly. “Guests don’t have to help. That’s why they’re called—”
“Guests,” she said, a little sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. Blame Granny May. We see things that need doing, we do them. Idle hands and all that.”
Noah liked that she felt at home enough in his cavernous kitchen to just up and pitch in. Not that he expected her to, or needed her to, but it wasn’t lost on him that she was the polar opposite of the only other woman who he’d once pictured in this kitchen. And that had only been when Carolyn was making her way to or from the attic quarters they’d lived in back then to the back door.
“Well, in that case . . .” He walked over and opened a tall cupboard door, then took an apron off one of the hooks inside. “Here,” he said. “Now you’re official.”
She walked over to him, hand out, but he motioned her to turn around so her back was to him.
“Need to make sure it’s tied properly. Health codes and such.”
She glanced over her shoulder, a smile curving her lips. “You do know I wear an apron for a living.”
“Plant aprons,” he said, moving in close behind her after he draped the neck loop over her head. “This is a food apron,” he said, bending down until his lips were next to her ear. “Entirely different tying strategy.”
He felt the little shiver of awareness his words sent through her, which made the fit of his pants that much more uncomfortable.
“And you know this how?” she asked quietly, taking in a quick breath as he looped the long side ties around her waist once, then again.
“Humor me,” he teased, then took a deliberately slow and methodical approach to tying the bow just below her belly button.
She glanced up at him again, this time putting their lips a breath away from each other. “You do this for all your sous chefs?”
“Well, I tried it with my last chef. Tiki is Samoan, built like The Rock, only a lot wider. He didn’t seem to be as much a fan of the idea as you.”
She let out a little snort. “I’m understanding your turnover issues a little better now.” She turned into his arms. “I couldn’t figure out why anyone wouldn’t want to work in this lovely restored gristmill, in such a bucolic setting, for such a nice guy. But now I get it.” She settled her arms on his shoulders. “A real hard-core, micromanaging type.”
“Attention to detail is what makes the difference between a decent outcome and a memorable one.” He leaned down, pressed a short kiss on her lips.
“Are we still talking about inn management?” she murmured against his lips, which only made him need another taste. Then another.
It wasn’t until the acrid tang of something burning filled the air, along with plenty of black smoke, in case additional proof was needed, that they broke apart. Flames were starting up on the meat griddles, and the eggs were looking like a complete loss already.
“Oh, shit,” Noah said, dancing back over to the griddle where the bacon was presently turning itself into tiny sticks of crunchy carbon. He apparently hadn’t checked the temperature gauges on the griddles. He grabbed the huge container of baking soda from the shelf above the workstation and dumped it on the small fires, dousing them immediately, grabbing baking sheets from the racks under the table, which he flattened on top of the griddles to squelch the now greater billows of smoke. Then he jerked the cords from the socket bar one at a time, before moving to the egg griddle to begin scraping out the charred remains there. “Open the back door, please,” he asked Stevie, as he paused long enough to shove open the windows directly behind the workstation, all while sending up silent prayers that the smoke alarms didn’t go off. One step after that was the sprinkler system. And they were snowed in at the moment, so the last thing he needed was—“Dammit.” At that exact moment, the clarion bell of the alarm went off, buzzing so loudly it made his ears ring.
Stevie ran to the back door and opened it, then went along and opened the windows at the far side of the room and over the row of industrial sinks. She clapped her hands over her ears. “What else can I do?” she shouted.
Noah turned on the big overhead fans, which he should have done sooner. “Go out and tell Jenny and Melanie what’s up and help them reassure the guests. I need to flip off the alarm system before—” He never got to finish the sentence. His hand was on the panel to the security box when the sprinklers overhead went spinning and sending out a showering waterfall that sprayed around the entire room. “Well, shit.” He flipped the panel open and punched in the code, which shut down the clarion bell. A few seconds later, the sprinkler heads stopped spinning.
He yanked the wall phone off the hook so it would show up on caller ID as the inn calling and dialed the fire department. They would have been silently signaled the moment the alarm went off and this would save them from calling him. “It’s all good, Joe,” Noah said, when the chief answered on the second ring. “The bacon, not so much, but no fire. Just a lot of smoke.”
“Sorry for your loss,” the chief said, amused, then sobered as he continued. “Glad it wasn’t worse. We’ve got our hands full with this storm, and I’ve already had to call the neighboring volunteer guys in. They’re calling for this thing to pack a much bigger wallop than expected, so you keep your folks indoors and don’t burn anything else if you can help it.”
“I’ll do my best,” Noah said, not bothering to mention that things were damp enough in the kitchen and dining room that fire probably wasn’t going to be a big concern.
He was about to say his good-byes, when Joe said, “Hear you’ve got your eye on the pretty plant lady who’s helping Sunny Goodwin with that old monstrosity of a greenhouse she inherited.”
Noah should have been surprised. It had been, what, twenty minutes since he’d kissed Stevie in the inn’s foyer? He also knew Melanie was a best friend of one of Joe’s nieces, so that probably explained that. “Her name is Stevie Franklin,” Noah said, “and she’s as smart as she is pretty, so can you blame me?”
“Not at all,” Joe chuckled. “I was just going to ask you what took you so long, but I guess you were smart to wait for the right one.”
“Time will tell,” Noah said, wishing he had more of that particular commodity, and feeling grateful Stevie would be snowed in for a bit before the whole town jumped on her and started asking nosy questions. “Say hi to your smart and pretty wife for me. I’ve got to go roust up another breakfast, and I know you’ve got your hands full.” They said their good-byes, and Noah hung up, then decided he needed to go speak to the guests directly, calm them down, before starting over in the kitchen.
He stepped across the gathering puddles that were running toward the drains built into the floor. Unfortunately, the wood floor in the dining room didn’t have the same features, so he grabbed two mops before heading through the swinging door. He wasn’t sure what scene he’d expected to find, but he’d definitely assumed whatever it was would involve a level of chaos. This was the first time the sprinklers had gone off in the dining room. What he found, however, was completely the opposite.
His guests were helping Jenny and Melanie mop up, using their linen napkins and place mats on the tables while the girls used the rugs that normally covered the floor in front of the big coffeemakers and juice machine to mop up the floor. Everyone seemed unconcerned, for now anyway, about his or her own rather damp state. Fortunately, the sprinklers hadn’t been on long enough to do any real damage. “Hey, everyone.” He grinned a little sheepishly when folks paused to look his way. “Well, so, that happened.”
A small wave of chuckles went through the room. Except for Stevie, of course, who he noticed just looked embarrassed and was the only one still furiously mopping away.
“We like to keep things interesting here at the inn, start the day off with some coffee, then a little freestyle aerobic routine to get the heart pumping—sorry about our choice of music though—followed by a nice long steam in your private showers.”
Just then Norma Beatty got a concerned look and turned to face him. Norma and her husband, Tom, were one of two older couples, the other being Strow and Nancy, who had been coming every Christmas holiday since he’d opened the place. They had been married for fifty-six years, had six kids between them, and Noah had lost count of how many grandkids and great-grandkids, but he knew they seemed to have a handful of new baby pictures every year. The Beattys held a huge family reunion every Thanksgiving for Tom’s family, and one just as big on the Fourth of July for her family, so for Christmas—which also happened to be their wedding anniversary—they took a long weekend alone together.
Norma said they’d told their respective families that, if she and Tom hadn’t run off to the mountains to get married over Christmas all those years ago, none of the rest of them would be alive in the first place, so the least they could do was let them run off once a year to remember why they’d done it in the first place. Noah couldn’t agree more.
At the moment, however, the now damp and somewhat bedraggled Norma looked distressed as she said, “Oh, my, Noah. Did the sprinklers go off in our rooms?”
Noah quickly raised his hands before she and the rest of the guests could stampede en masse up the stairs. “No, there are several separate circuits. Just the kitchen and dining room were affected. I shut the alarm off before it triggered the others. I’m very sorry we rained on you, but I’m glad we’re all safe. Although I’m afraid we will have to send our heartfelt condolences to the bacon and sausages.”
There was a collective and heartfelt groan at that announcement.
“And I’d invite you to enjoy the cereal, muffins, bagels, and Danish I put out earlier, but I’m guessing they’re overly moist at the moment as well.” He watched as several in the group sent a look of disappointment toward the sideboard where he always had a light continental breakfast set up for those who wanted to eat before the hot meal was prepared, or just wanted a little appetizer first. “However, I promise your complimentary hot meal will be served. If you’d like to retire to your rooms to change, maybe enjoy a little hot shower to warm up, we’ll get this place cleaned up, and I’ll get a fire going. In the fireplace,” he added quickly with a grin, and was relieved when folks chuckled.
He glanced out the window, noting Joe’s prediction was already coming to fruition. The snow was coming down so heavily now, and the wind was so strong, the storm was almost at whiteout conditions. “It looks like we’re going to be hanging out indoors together today, so lunch and dinner will be on me as well. Again, please accept my apologies.”
He hadn’t dared to so much as glance at Stevie directly, though he’d noted as his gaze swept the group that she’d finally stopped compulsively cleaning. As he gave his little speech, he’d caught her ducking back into the kitchen. No doubt she’d have it spic and span, too, by the time he got back there. Given their little display at the foot of the stairs, and the glaringly obvious fact that they’d been alone in the kitchen when they’d almost burned the place down, well . . . yeah. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
“Once we’ve enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, Jenny and Melanie will get out the cards, the puzzles, and the board games, and we’ll keep the fire stoked so the room stays cozy for those who want to use the tables to play. The front parlor on the other side of the foyer has a big flat screen, with several drawers full of movies if anyone wants to settle in there. The library up on the second floor is always open for anyone wanting some quiet time to read, knit, or whatnot. I’ll get the fire going up there as well. The girls will man the antique popcorn machine that we normally use for movie night, and soft drinks are on the house.”
This was met with an enthusiastic round of applause, and he let out a little sigh of relief. Crisis—and hopefully a string of bad Yelp reviews—averted. He waited while his guests filed out of the room and headed up the stairs to their rooms, taking time to speak to each one of them individually and thank them for their understanding. They were good sports about it, and more than a few even went so far as to say he didn’t need to comp their lunch or dinner, but, of course, he would. It was good business and the right thing to do. He didn’t serve alcohol, though folks were permitted to bring their own, or he’d have comped that, too. It wasn’t as if anyone were going to drive anywhere any time soon, so if they wanted to drink whatever they’d brought, he’d supply the glassware. As it was, he’d keep the coffee hot and make sure the big electric hot chocolate pot stayed full, with plenty of marshmallows for dunking.
Once the room was empty of guests, he went over to thank Jenny and Melanie, who were trying to rescue the Christmas decorations on the fireplace mantel and finish mopping up the hearth. “I know we’ve drilled for this and talked about it at length when you were hired, but you never really know how folks will react when things actually go south. You were a big part of averting total disaster and keeping everyone calm. I couldn’t be more proud or grateful.”
“Nothing bad happened,” Melanie said, offering a smile and the optimistic shrug of a teenager who couldn’t truly comprehend all that could have gone wrong. “It’s all good.”
“Yes, but it might not have been,” he cautioned. “And you both kept your heads on straight. I appreciate that.”
“Actually,” Jenny said, sharing a look with Melanie, then turning back to Noah, “we were a little freaked out when the sprinklers came on. It was Stevie who kept us straight. She came right in and told us what we should do, gave the guests some guidance, and got us all doing something to help with the cleanup. We figured it was coming from you, so we did what she said to do, and it all worked out.”
“Yeah,” Melanie agreed. “Once we all started doing something, nobody panicked. I guess because we were too busy helping to freak out. She kept us focused.”
Jenny smiled then, a bit of a twinkle in her pretty blue eyes. “We like her.”
Noah smiled, pleased but not surprised to hear it had been Stevie’s quick thinking that had helped to keep things from turning chaotic. Several of the guests had made comments like “great gals you got there” and “a real keeper, that one,” but he’d assumed they meant Jenny and Melanie. “Glad to hear it,” he said, quite sincerely. “I do, too.”
When Melanie nodded and agreed, Jenny leaned forward and added, sotto voce, “Like, really like her?”
“So we saw,” Melanie said, then made a little “ooph” sound when Jenny elbowed her. “What?” she said to her friend. “We’re not blind. They were right there in the foyer.”
Noah hadn’t thought that part of things through—hell, he hadn’t thought any of this through—but he knew he needed to address Melanie’s comment directly. “Yes, well, spontaneous displays of affection aren’t the norm for me here, I know that. You two haven’t seen me have a . . . uh—”
“Social life?” Melanie offered gamely, maybe even a little hopefully. “Hey, we’re happy for you, boss. It’s about time, you know? Everyone says so.” That earned her another elbow from Jenny. “Hey!” she protested, though the two shared a look that said they’d be doing a lot of gossiping as soon as he left the room. She looked back at Noah. “I wasn’t here when you first opened; I was still in middle school back then, so we didn’t really ever get to know your last girlfriend, but my mom says you’re one of the Falls’ most eligible bachelors. We just wanted to say we’re cool with Stevie, that’s all.”
“Well, I appreciate that,” Noah said, not knowing quite how to respond. Eligible bachelor? Like he was on some kind of game show or something? For all their sakes, he changed the subject. “I’m handing out your end of year bonuses next week and, with your efforts today, you can expect to be able to afford another round of iTunes downloads, or phone apps, or whatever it is you—”
The rest was cut off when both girls rushed close and hugged him. “Thanks, boss,” Melanie squealed, while Jenny squeezed harder. “You’re the best, Mr. Tyler.”
He could already hear them whispering away as he headed back to the kitchen. Yeah, you might have wanted to handle that a little better. Ah well, one crisis at a time. He’d deal with the potential PDA fallout later.
Just as he’d expected, when he pushed through the door back into the kitchen, dynamo Stevie had the place wiped down, and all traces of the baking soda–covered charcoal bits were gone. In fact, the kitchen looked pretty much ready to go.
“I put all the food that hadn’t been cooked yet, but was out on the worktable, on that counter over there,” she said, motioning to the sideboard. “I figured you’d have to toss it since it got wet, and covered with baking soda, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Yep, that all has to go, I’m afraid. And thank you, you didn’t have to do all this. Thank you for also helping in the dining room. Melanie and Jenny said it was your calm in the face of a blaring fire alarm that held everyone together. I owe you for that.”
“I was the cause of your inn’s almost burning to the ground two days before Christmas,” she responded, looking the teensiest bit the worse for wear. “I’d say it’s the least I could do.” Her once glossy, smoothed-back hair had started to pull out of the clip in the back, forming damp, frizzy ringlets on her forehead. She had baking soda streaked across both cheeks, her apron looked like she’d rolled around on the floor in it, and her jeans were soaked with water and more than a little grease.
“Does this mean you’re quitting as my sous chef?” When she merely lifted her nicely shaped brows, he grinned and added, “Because after looking outside, I can pretty much guarantee that, unless he hires a tank and a few National Guardsmen, I’m not going to have chef help, probably through Christmas.”
Stevie turned to look outside, apparently for the first time since the alarm had gone off. She walked closer to the back door. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “Look at that.” She lifted a hand to wipe condensation off the glass. “It looks like somebody put a wind tunnel inside a snow globe.” She turned back to look at him. “But you’ll have a white Christmas for sure, so there’s that.”
“It’s an inclusive deal, you know. It gets to be your white Christmas, too.”
She lifted a shoulder, not dismissively, but not all that concerned, either. He noticed she turned her attention back to the window, though she didn’t say anything further.
He went about pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry to start over where he could, and to be creative to fill in the gaps of the total-loss items, like the breakfast meat. He was supposed to get in several deliveries later that day to stock the larder for the big holiday-weekend menus and had only been a little worried about the inn’s getting plowed out in time when he’d woken up that morning. Now that would definitely not be happening, so he had to keep possible shortages in mind as well while menu-planning brunch and dinner. It was definitely going to be tricky, no matter how careful he was. “If you’re worried about the greenhouse and Sunny, I’m sure she and Sawyer are at Addie’s place and safe,” he said, noticing Stevie was still looking out at the snow. “You can call her if you want, let her know you’re here.”
“Thanks, but I’ve tried to text her several times. I don’t have the signal strength to get it to go through, so I know a call won’t work.”
“I meant you could use the inn phone.” At her surprised glance he said, “Yes, Virginia, I still have a landline. I know Addie Pearl does as well. I’ve got her number—”
“I have it. Sunny gave it to me since she and Sawyer are staying there. I hope this storm doesn’t make things worse at their place.”
“I doubt it will help get anything done faster,” Noah said.
“True. I would like to check in with her. Thanks. We got the first shipment of new orchid grafts, and they will be okay for a few days if the power holds. She’s got backup generators, but no one will be there to get them running. So, I’m a little worried, and knowing Sunny, she’s probably heartsick. Losing the whole shebang would be a serious financial setback with the grant funding. Not insurmountable, but still . . .” Stevie looked back outside, her expression pensive.
The prospect of being snowed in at his little mountain inn for the holidays was clearly not garnering the same potential romantic visions for her as it had for him. Of course, with the inn at three-quarter capacity and barely a skeleton crew to run the whole shebang—and that was including Stevie if she was willing to keep pitching in—it was doubtful there would be time or energy for romance.
“They won’t risk plowing until the snow stops,” he told her. “And if the wind doesn’t die down, they’ll have to go out more than a few times to stay ahead of the drifting.”
“Drifting,” she said, still staring out into the blizzard, “right.”
“Sorry, I’m not trying to—”
“Snow on my orchid parade?” she said, turning to look at him again, pasting on a game smile. “I know.” She turned her back to the window with a resolute squaring of her shoulders. “Phone?”
“Why don’t you use the one in the office,” he said, thinking that would give her more privacy than using the kitchen line. He nodded to the door tucked in the back corner. “Just pretend it looks like my secretary is the OCD type who files everything neatly in labeled drawers.”
“You have a secretary?”
“Part-time secretary, desk clerk, bellboy, and chief bottle washer, all in one.” He looked up from the stack of dry goods he was setting on the worktable. “He works cheap,” he said, pointing at himself, “so what can I expect, really?”
She laughed at that, and he thought it said something that in the short time they’d known each other he’d seen her at her worst far more often than he’d seen her at her best, yet he still thought she was the most beautiful person he’d ever met. Inside and out.
“Wait, did the water damage—?”
“Drop ceiling, no sprinklers in there,” he assured her.
“Oh, that’s a relief. Well, if I’m going to be snowed in, you’ll have a completely unqualified secretarial assistant to help, so you’ve got that going for you.” She grinned and blew at the hair now hanging down in her face. “Such as it is.”
“Be careful what you offer,” he warned as she headed for the office door. “I can’t afford combat pay.”
“Come on, how bad could it—” She broke off as she opened the door. “Oh.” She leaned back to look at him around the big Sub-Zero fridge. “I think maybe a bomb went off in there when you weren’t looking. You might want to beef up office security.”
“I’ll put it on the list,” he said dryly.
“Yes, but will you be able to find the list? That’s the question.” He was still chuckling when she grabbed a damp hand towel off a nearby counter. “I’m going in. If you see the white flag, send rescue.”
“Copy that, Miss Moneypenny.”
She laughed, and moments later he heard the murmurs of what he assumed was her phone conversation with Sunny. He made a mental note to go in there if she wasn’t out in a reasonable amount of time and make sure she wasn’t trying to make order of chaos. Although, on second thought, it might be best if they stayed out of arm’s reach of each other, and if she tidied up his office, it would guarantee he’d get through brunch and quite possibly dinner before ever seeing her again. A burst of her laughter spilled from the open office doorway, and he thought he heard her say something that sounded like “sacrificial bacon,” then more laughter. She was a good sport, Stevie Franklin.
Smiling, he found himself humming a combination of “White Christmas” and the James Bond theme under his breath as he got out a fresh set of bowls, cutting boards, and other utensils, then started dicing potatoes for home fries. Stevie might not care much about the Christmas holiday, at least as it applied to herself—she’d called herself the Ghost of Christmas Present, after all. So, maybe his thank-you gift to her for the help she was giving him would be to find a way to bring the joy of the season to her in a way that would make it personal, meaningful. He let out a rueful laugh then and shook his head. Because goodness knows you’ve already made it memorable.