Page 5 of The Holiday Grump
Noelle jerked back a little. Her gaze flicked to the door before she smiled again. “No trouble. I just keep moving.”
“You keep moving?” I told myself to drop it, but my mouth didn’t listen. “Is someone after you?”
Her head twitched like she was about to look at the door again. “Nobody knows I’m here, and there’s no cell signal, so I’m good.” She grinned, but I saw through it. She was running from something. Or someone.
As much as I wanted to dismiss her and the rest of the world, I couldn’t shake the unease. If there was any chance that she was in danger, if she kept bothering me because it made her feel safer to have a man nearby, I couldn’t ignore it.
I waited for her to elaborate, but she bounced up, pulled on the fluffy coat, and hoisted a huge backpack onto her shoulders. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” she chirped, heading for the door.
What was I supposed to do?
Cursing, I gathered my things, threw money on the table, and followed her.
CHAPTER 3
Noelle
Icouldn’t believe my ears when I heard Fredrik behind me. He muttered something, then rushed past to open the door. He’d made it clear he had no interest in talking to me, and I’d already exhausted my willingness to be humiliated. No matter how much it fed my curiosity, I was done.
“I’m not in any danger,” I insisted as we reached the foot of the stairs, icy wind whipping in from the harbor. “You can go back to your… self-help. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “I… I’m sorry I was rude, but I don’t come here to talk.” He swallowed. “Where are you going? I’ll escort you.”
Who even used words like that? I stared at him, not sure what to make of my reluctant, bookish bodyguard. “Why?”
“To be on the safe side.”
“Is it particularly unsafe out here?” I glanced at the empty pier. The faint sound of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” drifted from the bar. The most dangerous thing out here was probably the icy sidewalk, and my boots had a pretty good grip.
He shrugged. “Humor me?”
It was the friendliest expression he’d managed so far, almost like a smile.
I narrowed my eyes. “What ifyou’redangerous?”
He gave me a solemn nod. “That’s the risk you’d be taking, obviously.”
“Can you even protect a woman? Do you have muscles? Do you carry a gun? Do you know Krav Maga?”
He looked at his feet. “I can deadlift a box of encyclopedias.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a bookseller.” He gestured down the street to get us moving, but I planted my feet.
“And your name is Fredrik?”
“Yes.”
“Can I call you Freddie?”
“No.”
“Ricky?”
His forehead wrinkled in frustration. “I don’t do nicknames.”
“Not even when you were young? What did your classmates call you at school?”
