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 if you’re dangerous?”
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?”
He blew out a breath, steam curling in the cold air. “Nerdrik. Happy now?”
I beamed. “Yes. Let’s go, Nerdy.” I gestured toward the street.
He mistook my raised arm for something formal and took it, escorting me like a duke. An unexpected laugh burst out of me, but I decided to roll with it. It wasn’t every day you got escorted by a bookseller. I loved reading, so in my mind, he was basically a drug dealer.
We walked a few steps toward Main Street before I halted. I had no idea where I was going. “Wait. My shop’s supposed to be by the town square, at 51C Hideaway Avenue. Do you know where that is?”
He stiffened. “It’s 51C? Are you sure? There’s only 51.”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Okay.”
We turned and headed in the opposite direction, down a small side street that opened into the town square, glowing with what looked like thousands of fairy lights. Two dog walkers in scarves and wool hats passed us, nodding at Fredrik and sneaking long looks at me.
The shop windows were so elaborately decorated that it took me a minute to spot the business names. I spotted a gift shop and a hardware store.
“Do you know where the Sip is?” I asked.
“The café? It’s over there.” He pointed diagonally across the square.
“It’s a café? Great! That’s where the crochet club meets!”
He frowned. “How do you know about that?”
“This old lady I met on the bus. She taught me how to crochet these super cute flowers and invited me to join the group. I think her name was Ida.”
“Ida Kallis,” he gave a slow nod. “She’s obsessed with yarn. Watch out for Eileen, the café owner. She’ll set you up with anyone single with a pulse.”
I chuckled. “She’ll give up when she finds out I’m only here for the holidays.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I let Fredrik lead the way. When we stopped at a door with the right number, he jerked back. “Wait… what?”
“This is it. It’s 51C!” I pointed at the small shop window with a familiar name, The Christmas Wonderland, spelled out in brand-new vinyl letters, along with the address.
The shop front had been painted red, but ironically, the window display was the dullest on the square, a single string of garishly blinking rainbow lights. I’d fix that first.
“When did they put a door in here?” he grumbled. “They were renovating, but this is insane.”
“What’s insane?”
I scanned the doorway, and I spotted the lockbox. I knelt to open it with a code I’d memorized and pulled out the key with a triumphant flourish. “Look!”
He watched in silence as I unlocked the door and stepped into the dark, stale-smelling room. Relief washed over me. I’d made it somewhere safe for the night.
“In or out?” I asked as Fredrik lingered in the doorway, letting cold air in.
He stepped inside and shut the door.
But when I flipped on the light, my rosy expectations clashed with reality. The narrow room was crammed floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes and smelled like a recycling facility. The owner had told me some setup work was needed, but I hadn’t pictured this.
“Holy shit,” Fredrik said, staring at the wall. “They must have split this off from the main office. It used to be a real estate agency.”
“Well, now it’s a Christmas shop!” I announced, going for confidence. “I just need to do a bit of unboxing.”
“Yeah. A bit.” He eyed the boxes with horror. “Did you say there was an apartment?”
“Yes, at the back.”
Dodging boxes, I headed to a closed door. I’d spent the past year in windowless cabins in coffin-like confinement, so I was ready for anything. Still, my heart thudded as I turned the knob and flicked on the ceiling light.
I gasped. This wasn’t an apartment. It was a room, and nearly as small as my cabin. The bed looked like it belonged to one of the Seven Dwarfs, and a small desk was wedged so close there was no room for a chair. Not that it mattered, since the desk was already buried under boxes.
“You can’t live here,” Fredrik said flatly.
I hadn’t noticed him behind me and jumped a little at his voice. “Of course I can!” I said brightly, pushing inside.
My back twinged, and I dropped my heavy backpack onto the bed. The springs groaned in protest. Then I spotted a silver lining: a window with a latch. I muscled it open, sucking in the cool night air. This wasn’t so bad.
“This isn’t legal,” Fredrik grumbled from the doorway, his face set in a deep frown. “They can’t rent out a place with no kitchen or bathroom.”
“Technically, they’re not renting it. They just said I could use it. And I can’t afford a hotel. Not for long. Do you know what it costs this time of year?”
He took off his hat and dragged a hand through his wild hair, making it even wilder. “Christmas is high season here. You probably wouldn’t find anything available, no matter what you pay.”
I nodded. “Well, there you go.”
“But you can’t live without a kitchen or a bathroom,” he insisted, squeezing the hat inside his fist.
Something about his stance made me think of his comment about lifting encyclopedias.
Maybe there was more muscle under that mad-professor outfit than he let on.
He didn’t stand like a sluggish man. Not like Spencer, who’d been the privileged kind of languid—used to such a level of convenience that muscle was only desired, and acquired, for cosmetic reasons.
Looking for a counterargument, I scanned the room.
Under the desk, I spotted a microwave and a small Nescafé machine with a handful of pods.
“Look!” I crouched down, triumphant. “I can buy bottled water and make coffee. And cook noodles in the microwave. That’s basically a kitchen.
” I held up a coffee pod, forcing a smile.
He stared at me in disbelief. “And then you pee in a bottle and toss it out the window?”
I froze. “Are there any public bathrooms? A library, maybe?”
“Across the square.”
“I’ll just close the shop and walk over. Or maybe there’s a gym? I’ll get a membership. Then I can shower there too.”
“The gym’s two blocks away.”
I turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see the panic creeping in.
I was used to discomfort and could make this work.
But my dreams of crafting and enjoying life on dry land were slipping away.
There was no room for hobbies in this tiny room.
I’d be in survival mode, hunting bathrooms and planning microwave meals that didn’t give me scurvy.
I poked my head out the window. The back alley was dark and quiet, just garbage cans and a lone cat prowling a box. A few windows across the narrow drive glowed behind drawn curtains. Mine had no curtains. I’d have to change on the floor. A lump rose in my throat.
“I have a bathroom in my shop next door.” Fredrik’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You’re welcome to use it.”
My head whipped around. “Are you serious?”
“It’s nothing grand,” he clarified. “And it doesn’t mean I think you, or anyone, should live here. But if you have no other choice…”
“Can I use it now?” I asked in a small voice. “Before you go?”
I hated depending on him, but I’d just downed a soda and a mango mocktail. There was no way I’d last the night without peeing somewhere.
“Sure.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Let’s go.”
“What time do you open tomorrow?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Damn. I’ll have to limit my fluid intake.” I grimaced.
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he gave me a look that was equal parts concern and judgment.
I felt like I was in the principal’s office, explaining why the gym teacher’s pants were flying from the flagpole.
Spencer had always said my sense of humor needed “fine-tuning.” I’d never learned to stop before crossing the line.
I swallowed. “I know I was an idiot to accept this job, but I have nowhere else to go.”
“Where’re you from?”
“Bangor.”
“That’s two hours away,” he stated.
I looked away, feeling the burn of shame on my face. “I know. But I can’t. Trust me.”
To my relief, he didn’t push. He just turned, kicked a box out of the way, and headed for the door.
I locked up and followed him down the street.
Fredrik stopped next door at a darkened shop I’d completely missed earlier.
In contrast to the bright and festive displays around it, the window looked like a black hole.
Only when I drew closer to the glass did I make out shelves crammed with books, stacked so tightly they formed an impenetrable wall of literature.
Fredrik unlocked the door. As we stepped inside, a buzzer doorbell screeched overhead, a sound that instantly made me think I’d failed a test. The air smelled of books and dust. In the dim light, the tall shelves loomed like an ancient forest. I hugged myself, terrified of bumping into one and starting an avalanche.
I loved bookstores. I’d seen my share of crammed little stores, but never anything this… grim.
Fredrik vanished behind a shelf, and a light flicked on at the back, throwing long shadows across the floor.
“The bathroom is upstairs.”
I followed his voice to a narrow staircase. Upstairs opened into a cramped hallway. The bathroom was old, but to my surprise, it had a shower stall.
“This used to be the shopkeeper’s quarters.” He gestured down the hall. “Now it’s… storage.”
I didn’t linger even though I wanted to. I could always brush my teeth later with bottled water. I was resourceful when I had to be.
Still, I couldn’t resist grabbing a clean towel from a shelf, wetting it, and giving my armpits a quick wipe. Oh, the bliss.
I rinsed the towel and came out, dabbing my cheeks. “I borrowed a towel. I hope that’s okay?”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Sure.”
“I really need a shower, but that’s okay. I’ll find the gym tomorrow. Where did you say it was?”
“On Buoy Street, past the library and fire station. But it might not be what you’re picturing. I’ve never seen a woman there.”
“I’m not fussy!”
“No, you’re right. It’s probably better than a bar for push-ups,” he said dryly.
I muffled my laughter in the towel. “I was taking a photo and wanted to look a bit warmer.”
He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he’d drop the subject. But as we reached the stairs, he turned back. “Why?”
I could tell it bothered him, and I felt a sudden bout of glee. I’d managed to crack that carefully curated act of disinterest. Because it was an act. I was sure of it.
He wore no ring. He sat alone in a bar on a Friday night. He’d warned me about a matchmaking lady. All signs pointed to being single. Yet he acted like he wanted nothing to do with anyone. Why sit in a bar, surrounded by people, if you didn’t want to talk?
I’d never met anyone like him. Guys like this didn’t end up on cruise ships, though, so maybe it was a case of sampling bias.
I didn’t think I was stunning, but I was cute enough to get by. I could tell he felt responsible for me in some old-fashioned, chivalrous way. But he hadn’t looked at me with even a flicker of interest.
Except now. Now, I bothered him. It wasn’t exactly the stuff of daydreams, but it felt like a victory.
A smile tugged at my lips, and I met his gaze. In the low light, his eyes were almost black. “I’ll tell you, if you first tell me why you read in a bar.”