Читать книгу Her Mistletoe Magic - Kristine Rolofson, April Arrington - Страница 12

“I FEEL A lot better now.” Grace tried to sound emphatic, but her voice quavered a bit as she wobbled against Nico’s side. He’d been in the clinic’s waiting room, seated in the midst of texting teenagers and a mother with a screaming baby, when Grace had limped out, crutches under her arms and a medical boot on her right foot. On her left she wore one of Patsy’s running shoes, which her friend kept in her office in case she decided to use the treadmill in the workout room. A nurse had put an athletic sock over her injured foot before showing her how to put the boot on. “I can go back to work.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But that’s already been decided. Patsy said to tell you that she’d take over for you at the fund-raiser and she’d see you in the morning. If you’re okay to come to work in the morning, that is. What’s the verdict?”

“A nasty sprain, but nothing is broken. I need to stay off of it as much as I can, treat it with ice and keep it elevated.”

“Okay. Let’s go get it elevated and iced.”

“I have to pick up a prescription. Would you mind taking me to Kinney’s?” Her foot ached, but the twelve-year-old doctor had called in a prescription for painkillers at the pharmacy. “If you could help me get home, I would appreciate it.”

Nico was silent as he opened the door and helped her down the freshly shoveled ramp to the parking lot. His familiar Toyota 4Runner sat in a handicapped spot.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“At seven thirty at night? With a woman on crutches?” He beeped the doors open and settled her into the passenger seat. “There. How bad is the pain?”

“I’m trying not to cry,” she admitted. He looked so concerned. She wanted to tell him not to worry about her, that she would be fine, but he backed away and shut the door.

“First stop, drugs,” he announced once he was behind the wheel. The car was warm, despite the cold temperature and the light snow flurries that danced in the air.

“Thank you.” She adjusted her seat belt and turned toward him. “I would have called Patsy for a ride home. I didn’t expect anyone to be waiting for me.” She’d felt a surprising mixture of relief and pleasure when she’d seen him sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs and reading an old issue of Sports Illustrated.

“Is there anyone I can call for you? Family?”

“My father lives in Boston, but he’s out of town for the holidays.” Not that he would have been at all helpful. “And my aunt, who lives in Saranac, has gone to help my cousin, who just had another baby. In Arizona.” She had friends, good friends, but it was four days before Christmas and no one needed an injured friend in their spare bedroom, or worse, on their living room couch. Even Karen, the one person she would have called after Patsy, had a houseful of in-laws and a set of eight-month-old twins.

“So you’re stuck with me.” Nico shot her a grin.

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you’re thinking it.”

“Just a little.” She couldn’t help laughing. It was either that or burst into tears. She wanted to curl up in her bed and pretend it was July.

He left the car running while he picked up the prescription, which gave Grace time to wonder how Nico was going to carry her up a flight of stairs to her little condo. He’d had no trouble carrying her down the stairs at the inn a few hours ago, but going up was a different deal. She could sit down and scoot on her rear, step by step. It would be cold, slow and undignified, but not impossible.

This was starting to get complicated. Maybe Patsy had found her a room at the lodge. If she could just get into a bed and lie down for a few hours, she was sure she’d feel better.

Nico returned with a bottle of water, her pills and a plastic bag filled with junk food, which he plopped in her lap.

“My sisters always wanted M&M’s when they were hurt. Marie and Cathy said that pain burns calories, and self-pity can be treated with Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies. Beth, on the other hand, believes in chicken soup. It’s all in the bag, so take your pick.”

“Really?” She peered inside. Sure enough, there were enough treats inside to compete with an especially good Halloween haul. And the soup was the boxed kind.

She loved the boxed kind with the little flat noodles.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He started the car and put it in Reverse. “You haven’t met my sisters? There are three of them, all older than me. They’ve been to the restaurant several times.”

“I don’t think I have.” She would have remembered. His parents had been to dinner, though. She’d seen them in the lobby but hadn’t met them yet. “You grew up here. Why did you come back?”

“My family owns Vitelli’s.”

“I know.” Vitelli’s was a large brick restaurant in the center of town. Famous for its pasta dishes and pizza, it was hugely popular with locals and tourists alike.

“I have a very large family,” he said.

“You’re lucky.” She thought about Aunt Ellen, so far away in Arizona this holiday. She’d texted photos of the new baby, a little girl with yellow fuzz on the top of her perfect little head.

“Yes,” Nico agreed. “I am.”

She fumbled in her purse for her cell phone and called Patsy. If she couldn’t haul herself up the outside steps to her condo, then a cozy room at the lodge was the next best thing.

“Sorry, honey,” her friend told her after Grace gave her the medical report. “Every single room is booked. You know how it is over the holidays.”

“That’s okay. Nico will help me get up the stairs at home.”

“No,” her driver said. “Nico won’t.”

“You’re not going home,” Patsy said, using her best motherly voice. “I went to your place and packed up some things for you and I gave them to Nico. He lives right down the street from the lodge, so it’s convenient.”

“It’s not convenient,” she protested.

“It is,” Nico said. “I have a very large, very empty house.”

“It is,” Patsy agreed. “Everything you need for overnight is in a suitcase or on hangers. By the way, you have an impressively organized closet. I’ve never known anyone who organized her outfits for the week and hung them on hangers labeled Monday, Tuesday, et cetera. It was quite amazing. Did you see that on Pinterest or invent it yourself?”

“Pinterest,” Grace admitted. “Every Sunday I organize my clothes. It saves time in the morning.”

“Someday you will have children and all of this will be a thing of the past.”

“What about putting a rollaway in my office? There would be room if we moved some of the boxes.”

Patsy sighed. “And have you limping back and forth to the ladies’ room? Wearing your flannel nightgown?”

“Well...”

“Did you get crutches?”

“Yes. And a boot I can take on and off.”

“Okay, then, sweetie. Are you on speakerphone?”

“No.”

“Go home with the handsome, sexy TV star. Let him cook you dinner and carry you around that big, glorious house he just bought. He’s a good guy, you know. Everyone likes him. He feels badly that you fell in his kitchen, so let him make it up to you.” With that, she clicked off, leaving Grace holding a silent phone.

“All set?” Nico drove past the lodge without slowing down.

“I can’t go home with you.” She actually heard herself whimper, for heaven’s sake.

“Why not?”

“It’s too...personal. I don’t even know you. Not really.”

“No time like the present,” he declared. “It’s not like we’re sharing a bed. You’ll have your own room. On the first floor. And you’ll have a private nurse.” He grinned.

“You.”

“Yep. Me. I’m going to bring you ice packs and hot tea and, if you’re lucky, I might even read you to sleep.”

She leaned back against the cushioned seat back and closed her eyes. “I do not believe this is happening. This morning I thought I had everything under control.”

“You have another option.”

“I do?” She kept her eyes closed. She didn’t believe it for a minute, especially since his voice held that thread of humor she had begun to recognize.

“I can, somehow, with enormous brute strength, haul you up your stairs and get you inside your home.”

“Sounds good to me. What’s the catch?”

“Then I stay with you. I can fetch and carry and dispense medication and sleep on the couch. You have a couch, don’t you?”

“Nope,” Grace lied, finding the idea of this almost-stranger poking around her home embarrassing. “I only have an antique rocking chair. Oak. Hard as a rock.”

“No big brown recliner with cup holders?”

“Not even a lumpy futon.”

“Well, that settles it, then.”

She reluctantly opened her eyes. They were well on their way out of town, heading away from her place and toward Mirror Lake Road. Her foot throbbed. She was hungry and thirsty and sleepy. She reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the M&M’s. It only took a few seconds to open the candy and self-medicate.

“YOU REALLY DO have a ramp.”

“Yeah. You thought I would lie about a ramp?” Nico carried Grace from the neatly plowed driveway toward his house. “The previous owners were a hundred and ten years old.”

“You didn’t have to carry me,” she said, protesting once again. The woman was extremely hard to spoil, he thought. Here he was doing the knight-in-shining-armor routine and she’d rather be limping downhill in the cold, dark night. He wished he could have pulled the car into the garage, but it was filled with a boat, six kayaks and two Jet Skis, all of which belonged to his sisters and their assorted husbands and children.

“It’s fifteen degrees out, in case you haven’t noticed. This is faster.” Plus, he got to hold her in his arms. He shook his head at the sappy thought. He hadn’t held anyone for over seven months, which, of course, no one would believe. His sisters had offered to fix him up with their friends and their friends’ younger sisters, cousins and coworkers, but he wasn’t interested.

He’d been waiting. He was thirty-five and he knew what—and who—he wanted. Maybe he’d get lucky and get his wish.

“I’ve driven past this house so many times,” Grace said. “I always liked how it sat on the hill and looked over the road to the lake. I like all of the houses around here.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He was grateful for the automatic lights that lit the walkway to the back door and bathed it in a light bright enough to help him find the right key. “I’m going to set you down for a second, all right? But hold on to me. I just need to unlock the door.”

“I’m okay.” She clutched the plastic shopping bag and her purse in one hand, his sleeve in the other.

Al’s excited barking began. The mutt didn’t believe in barking at strangers, only people who had keys. The sound of a key in the lock sent him into raptures of joy.

“You have a dog!”

“I do. Does that surprise you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I don’t think you know what type I am,” Nico replied. “Brace yourself. He might wag you off your feet.” Al, his aging yellow Labrador mix, blocked the foyer. He woofed and wagged, torn between greeting Nico and his curiosity over the visitor. Nico noticed that Grace properly held her hand out for Al to sniff, but anyone could see that the dog wasn’t the least bit aggressive.

“Hi, Al.” Grace stroked the dog’s head, but she kept hold of Nico’s arm. “Are you glad to see us?”

“He spends most of his days, when I’m working, with my oldest sister. She lives farther up the hill, not far from here. She spoils him rotten. I hired my nephew to take him for walks after school.” Very slow walks, since the dog had grown lame from arthritis. He preferred to hang out by the gas stove and sleep on his heated dog bed. “They bring him home after dinner and he spends his evenings sleeping.”

“You are such a good dog,” Grace told him, and Al wriggled as best he could in response to the compliment.

Nico managed to maneuver Grace onto the bench by the door, next to Al’s water and food bowls, and then helped her remove her coat and the one tennis shoe. She left her socks on, which looked adorably sexy with the sleek red dress.

“I’m going to carry you again,” he said, lifting her into his arms, and for once she didn’t protest. She looked paler than she had at the clinic, more fragile. He needed to get her settled, as he’d promised. They walked down the hall, past the laundry room and a bathroom, then into the kitchen. Al pattered behind them, staying close.

“Your favorite room, of course.”

“Of course.” The original dark wood cabinets stretched to the ceiling, the appliances were from the 1980s, the counter an old cracked white Formica. “I’ll need to replace the countertop and the appliances soon,” he explained. “But I don’t want to change it too much.”

A large battered pine farm table stretched along one side of the room under the expanse of windows, sixteen chairs around it. The table, which once belonged to a nearby summer camp, had been the first thing he’d bought for the house. His sister Marie had found an assortment of wooden chairs at estate sales and had painted them the palest shade of blue.

“Your house is beautiful,” she murmured, gazing into the living area that faced the lake. “It looks like everyone’s fantasy of the perfect Victorian summer home, only better.”

“I haven’t had time to buy much furniture.” Al’s enormous dog bed sat in front of the fireplace, a twin for the one that graced the lobby of the lodge. He owned one tan sofa—a reject from his parents—and an old round coffee table, which had been left there by the previous owners. Two plastic laundry baskets full of toys sat in one corner, an enormous and very bare Christmas tree in the other, though hills of wrapped gifts lined the wall under the windows. Seen through Grace’s eyes, the place would seem pretty sparse. As if he wasn’t doing it justice or something. Suddenly he doubted his wisdom in bringing her here. “Getting the restaurant back up to—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Grace interrupted, her voice soft. “You should take your time, buy only what you want, what feels right.”

“Exactly,” he said. That was the way he operated. He waited for exactly what he wanted, which might explain why Grace was here, in his arms and in his house. “It drives my sisters crazy. They’re dying to decorate this place.”

“You have a close family.”

“Close would be an understatement. Three sisters, three brothers-in-law, a nephew, four nieces and another baby on the way. They are constantly in and out of here.”

“Which explains the toys in the living room.”

“And the jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. Anna is eleven and she’s crazy about them. It can get a little hectic.” But he was never more grateful to his sisters than he was now. Marie and her three children, who lived less than half a mile away, took care of Al. Cathy came every Monday and cleaned, telling him she needed the exercise and the excuse to get out of the house with the kids, who were two and four. Beth, the sister with an MBA, oversaw his investments, handled his money and managed his manager. His parents ran Vitelli’s, with the help of their three daughters, two excellent assistants, a head chef and an aging but devoted staff.

He headed past the living room to the master bedroom, a large white-walled room with a king-size bed and its own bathroom, complete with soaking tub and separate shower.

“Here you go,” he said, setting Grace on the quilt-covered bed.

“This is your room.” She frowned up at him. “I can’t take your bed.”

“I don’t sleep here. My room and office are upstairs, along with two more bedrooms and two bathrooms.”

“Really?” Those beautiful blue eyes held doubt.

“Really.” He grabbed the neatly placed bed pillows and tucked them behind her. “Time for dinner and pain pills. And ice.”

He handed her the remote control and pointed to the television set mounted on the wall across the room. “See? All the comforts of home.”

“I just need my cell phone.”

“I’ll get it,” he assured her, moving away from the bed. He hoped Patsy had handled any emergencies, though what could go wrong with pizza and raffles in the bar? He’d donated gift certificates to the restaurant and also to Vitelli’s, as his parents supported every charity in town.

“Thank you.” Grace winced as she stretched out her foot. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble, but it feels really, really good to lie down.”

“Good. I’ll come back with your things and then you can tell me what you want to eat.”

“I get to boss around the famous Nico Vitelli?”

“Not many people can say that,” he said, fleeing the room before he said something stupid, like, You can boss me around for the rest of my life if you want.

“ARE YOU GOING to need any help getting your clothes off?”

Grace looked up from her tray of food. He’d brought her ravioli stuffed with some kind of wonderful cheese filling and drizzled with a light pesto sauce. He’d offered salad and an apple tart, but she’d politely refused. He’d left her to eat while he took Al outside, but he’d been in and out of the room making sure she had everything she needed.

“I think I can manage.” She eyed the crutches propped against the nightstand. “I’m pretty sure I can get my nightgown on without falling over.”

“Well, if I hear a crash I’ll come racing in and pick your naked body up off the floor, so don’t lock the door.”

“Okay.” She felt herself blush again and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Dinner was delicious,” she said, changing the subject from nude bodies to food.

Al padded over and rested his chin on the mattress next to her hip, so she reached over and stroked his head. The dog closed his eyes and inched closer.

“He’ll want to sleep with you,” Nico warned. “Don’t be too nice.”

“I don’t mind. There’s plenty of room.” She’d had a dog after her mother passed away, a little spaniel mix that followed her everywhere. He had died during her junior year of high school, and stepmother number three had refused to consider adopting another, which had left a pretty big gap when it came to having someone to love.

“Not a good idea. What if he rolled over on your foot?”

“It’s my right foot. He can sleep on the left side. If he wants to.”

“I usually carry him upstairs at night.”

“You do?”

“His hind legs are bad. He can’t do stairs.”

That was a sweet picture, the fancy Hollywood chef carrying his old dog to bed. “Did he live with you in California?”

“Yes. He loved the pool.”

“I’ll bet.” Al leaned closer and whined. Nico leaned over and removed the tray. “What else can I get you? Tea? Coffee? Cookies? My mother sent over a platter two days ago. She’s obsessed with baking right now.”

“I could eat a dozen cookies, so don’t tempt me.” She set her cell phone on the nightstand. The pain pill she’d taken before dinner was making her drowsy, and now that she’d checked her messages, all she wanted to do was crash. “I got interesting news from Julie Barrett.”

“The runaway bride?”

“Don’t call her that. She didn’t run away. She just...changed her mind. Better than marrying the wrong man.”

Nico perched on the edge of the bed and looked at her foot, now devoid of the boot and covered with an ice pack. “There would be nothing worse than marrying the wrong person. Have you ever been married?” he asked.

“No.”

“Engaged?”

She hesitated. “No. I thought we were heading in that direction, but I was wrong. What about you?”

“No. My friends tell me I’m too fussy. My mother says I’m too old and set in my ways. And my father tells me not to worry, I’ll know when I meet the right woman.”

“My father has been married three times and engaged twice. He has a new girlfriend every year.”

“And your mother?”

“She died when I was twelve. Cancer. They were divorced before that, though. But we all lived in the same small town north of Boston. She was a teacher.”

“You must miss her. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I was lucky to have my aunt Ellen. That’s how I ended up working here, in upstate New York.” Those summers with her aunt and cousins had saved her from cranky stepmothers and emotional scenes between her father and the women he loved and left.

“So, what was the message from Julie Barrett?”

“She’s given her wedding to Noelle.”

“Noelle? At the lodge?”

“Yes. She’s engaged to Ted and they were planning a small, inexpensive wedding. I guess Julie and Noelle talked and Julie gave her the entire thing. Most of it had been paid for, and Noelle’s wedding won’t be as big, so it shouldn’t cost Ted and Noelle anything, unless they have an open bar.”

“Dinner for eighty-five people,” Nico said. “Beef Wellington. The Barrett family wouldn’t get much of their deposit back anyway.”

“Now it won’t go to waste. What do you think?”

“The food was never going to go to waste,” he said. “Not in my kitchen.”

“But the cake. And the decorations. And the flowers.” She sighed contentedly. “All the beautiful flowers.”

“I think it’s a very kind and generous gesture.”

Grace blinked back tears. “I think so, too. I mean, Noelle has that little boy, and Ted has to go back overseas, someplace dangerous—did you know he’s a Green Beret?—and they will just love the fairy lights in the jars and the pinecone place-card holders and the little jingle bells, don’t you think?” Her voice caught on a sob.

“Grace?”

“I love weddings,” she whispered. “I always wanted to get married on Christmas Eve. You know, to make it special?”

He leaned forward and took her into his arms. “Oh, Grace. All weddings are special. Or should be. You make them that way.”

She flopped against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. “This is so embarrassing.”

“What? Crying? I grew up with three sisters. I am totally used to it.”

“I should have watched where I was going.” She’d been concentrating on avoiding Nico’s smile instead of looking for dangerous, fallen Christmas decorations.

“I’m selfishly glad you didn’t.” He pulled back slightly and smiled down at her. “This has been a memorable first date.”

“I’m only crying because I took Percocet,” she sputtered. “Pain medication makes me emotional.”

“Well, then,” he murmured, folding her back into his arms. “Weep away.”