Page 13 of Her Frosty Billionaire
Mollie grinned. “Challenge accepted.”
The laughter and Christmas music swelled—“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” I was still humming when I noticed Noel wasn’t watching Mollie or smiling. He was typing.
“Everything okay?”
“Logistics issue,” he said without looking up. “Jacksonville’s behind schedule.”
“Can it wait? The party’s almost over?—”
“Christmas waits for no one.” He hit send. “If we don’t fix this, five thousand orders miss delivery.”
I knew his work mattered, but the way he said it—so detached—made something inside me wilt.
Avery appeared beside me, eyes shining. “We’re going to the Christmas market Saturday. You have to come—and bring…” Her gaze flicked to Noel. “A date, maybe?”
My heart fluttered. “Want to go?” I asked him softly. “There’s hot chocolate, ornaments, skating?—”
“I don’t do Christmas markets.” He said it like I’d offered him poison. “Overpriced tchotchkes.”
Avery winced. “Oh. Okay then.” She vanished fast.
“Tchotchkes?” I repeated.
“What?”
“You called handmade ornaments tchotchkes.”
“They are. Sentiment for sale.”
“They’re made by local artists?—”
“Who charge forty bucks for painted pine cones.”
My chest tightened. “Mine were thirty.”
He hesitated. “I’m sure yours are nice.”
“But still tchotchkes?”
“Hope, I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine,” I lied.
The music shifted to “Jingle Bell Rock.” I started humming unconsciously, trying to recapture the warmth I’d felt earlier.
“God, I hear this song ten thousand times a season,” he said. “It loses its charm.”
“How can you hear it and not feel something?”
“Easy. It’s background noise for consumer spending.”
The warmth I’d felt in the greenhouse drained out of me. “That’s really how you see it?”
“That’s all it is, Hope.”
“No, Noel. That’s what you’ve made it.”
An older couple drifted over, smiling. “You two make such a lovely pair. How long have you been together?”
