Christmas on 4th Street. Susan Mallery

      The worst part was, he was right. Until she got some more practice, she shouldn’t be doing any winter driving outside of the plowed streets of town. But she couldn’t leave the poor man swaying from exhaustion.

      “Come on,” she said, motioning for him to follow her.

      She led the way to the back room, where she kept extra inventory and had a small break area with a table and four chairs.

      The table was actually salvaged from an estate sale in town. Noelle loved the deep mahogany finish and the graceful legs, but what had most appealed to her was the writing etched into the top. As if the previous owner had spent long hours writing letters.

      Now she pulled a blanket from the pile on one of the chairs and folded it into the shape of a pillow, then pointed to the sofa. “It’s more comfortable than it looks.”

      Gabriel shook his head. “I’m fine.” He seemed more wary than interested in resting.

      “You’re practically unconscious. This is a Christmas store. I really can’t be explaining the strange man slumped on the middle of my floor.” She collected a second blanket. “You don’t have anything else to do until Felicia picks you up. Come on. No one will bother you here.”

      “You’re coaxing me. I’m not some wild dog you’re trying to rescue.”

      She grinned. “I can’t help it. It’s a girl thing.”

      He grumbled something under his breath, then finally walked to the sofa and shrugged out of his jacket. He lay down. He was too tall to stretch out, but he was able to turn on his side, with his legs not too bunched. She draped the second blanket on top of him.

      “You don’t have to sleep.”

      “I won’t.”

      “Of course not. I’ll be back a little before five.”

      She walked out of the storage room and went to help her customers. They each bought two bears. A family with a toddler in a stroller came in and wanted to talk about the train set. Ten minutes later they left with one, along with three holiday DVDs and an angel doll for their young daughter. Noelle tiptoed back into the storage room to check on her guest.

      Gabriel’s eyes were closed and he didn’t stir as she approached. Good, she thought as she backed out toward the front of the store. He needed the rest. It was the best way to heal. While she’d never been cut as badly as he had, she knew something about what it took the body to recover.

      * * *

      The afternoon passed quickly. Noelle was kept busy with customers and brainstorming sales and events. Important when one was in retail, she thought. About ten minutes before five, she walked into the break room and stopped by the sofa. Gabriel didn’t look as if he’d moved at all, but his color was better and some of the tension seemed to have faded. She put a hand on his shoulder.

      “Hey,” she began, her voice soft. “It’s nearly—”

      He sat up instantly, his eyes wide with alarm. “What?”

      She kept her voice low and calm. “It’s Noelle. You’re in my store. You’ve been sleeping.”

      His dark blue gaze locked on her face. “I cut my hand. I don’t have a brain injury.”

      “Just checking,” she told him as she straightened and walked to the refrigerator. She took out her pitcher of water and poured him a glass. “Felicia phoned. She’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

      He shifted until he was facing front. “She didn’t have to leave work early for me.”

      Noelle handed him the glass. “It’s nearly five. You’ve been asleep for three hours.”

      Gabriel took the glass. “I was tired,” he admitted. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

      She turned one of the dining chairs toward him and sat down. As always, by the end of the day, her feet were ready for a break.

      “It’s the least I could do,” she told him. “You drove me down the mountain. Of course I could have done you in with an umbrella and chose not to, so maybe you owe me.”

      “Not likely.”

      He drank the water. She tried not to notice how appealing a warm and sleepy man could be. His light brown hair was mussed, his expression relaxed. She was sure the wariness would return soon enough, but it was nice to see him without his guard up.

      For a second she allowed herself to think what it would be like to crawl up next to him—to feel his arms around her and maybe snuggle on the sofa. She hadn’t been in a relationship in what felt like a millennium, but was actually just about two years. Long enough for her to be lonely, she thought.

      He finished the water then set the empty glass on the table by the sofa. “Thanks for all of this,” he said, motioning to the blanket and the sofa. “You were right.”

      “I usually am.”

      His mouth twitched. “And modest.”

      She shrugged. “I live with the burden.”

      The twitch turned into a smile. “Are you thinking sainthood or just a tasteful plaque?”

      “We’ll start with a plaque.” She studied him. “You’re still exhausted. Jet lag?”

      He nodded. “I spent the past two days traveling.”

      “Where did you come from?”

      “Germany. There’s a big hospital there.” He looked like he was going to say more, but didn’t.

      “How’d you get back to the States? Military transport?”

      “Part of the way. Then commercial. There was snow in Chicago.”

      She looked at the lines around his eyes and mouth. “Your hand is bothering you,” she observed. “Can I get you something for it?”

      “I’m fine.”

      “You’re not.” She didn’t risk glancing at the bandage. “You’re forgetting I saw it earlier.”

      “How could I forget? You fainted.”

      “I didn’t. I nearly fainted. There’s a difference.”

      He leaned back against the sofa, looking more relaxed. “Not much of one.”

      “You’re trying to change the subject.”

      One eyebrow rose. “From?”

      “How you acting like a macho idiot isn’t going to help you get better.”

      “This would be your medical opinion?”

      She ignored that. “Pain is stress and stress inhibits healing. I read a lot,” she added, knowing she wasn’t ready to tell him why she knew what she was talking about. “Would it help if I said I wouldn’t tell?”

      “No.”

      “You’re so stubborn.”

      “Do I get a plaque, too?”

      She held up both hands. “Fine. Don’t heal. Have an open wound forever. See if I care.”

      He stood slowly. She was tall, but he was taller. He looked all manly in her storage room, she thought. Out of place, but in a good way. If that was possible.

      “I should go wait out front,” he said, reaching for his jacket. “So Felicia doesn’t have to park.”

      “You up to this?” she asked, thinking that he hadn’t seen his brother in a long time. “Dealing with all the emotional stuff? If it gets too much, tell Felicia you’re still recovering from blood loss. She’ll force you to go lie down. Oh, but if you do that, don’t resist. She knows things.”

      The amusement returned