Page 28 of Carpenter's Christmas Bride

Her heart pounded as she waited, certain he wouldn’t kiss her, but unsure what else could be happening.

Why didn’t I ever date? Why didn’t I try harder to get experience with kissing and boys so I could know what on earth is going on?

But the answers to those questions didn’t matter, because Aidan’s gaze had slipped down to her mouth and she was moving toward him instinctively, like a flower to the sun.

His big hand wrapped around her arm as if to hold her still, and she let out a tiny gasp of surprise, as the realization that this was really happening landed on her.

That small sound must have been enough to bring him to his senses. Suddenly Aidan was leaning back again, letting go of her arm and patting it once as if that had always been his intention.

“Be careful getting in,” he said darkly.

“I, uh, okay,” she said breathlessly.

He turned on his heel and she suddenly felt the weight of his rejection.

Of course he didn’t want to kiss her. She was nothing more than an overgrown child on crutches. The biggest emotion he felt for her was probably sympathy. She had imagined the whole thing, and he probably thought she was pathetic.

Her cheeks heated and she dug in her pocket for her keys, wanting to escape him as quickly as possible.

“Hey, Kenzie,” he called to her from the driveway.

“Yeah?” she said, looking up.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” It was a statement, but she could sense the question in it. And there was something else too, a friendliness in his slight frown that told her that everything was okay between them.

“Yes,” she said, unable to hide her smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She still wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened between them. But maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

9

AIDAN

Aidan’s heart pounded as he pulled out of Kenzie’s drive, chastising himself all the way.

You don’t need a crush right now. You don’t need any kind of romantic entanglement at all. You’re not good at them, and they always end badly.

But he still felt a rush of excitement in his chest, like a waterfall was crashing there, sending up a mist of intoxication.

She’s too young and too sweet for you.

He shook his head. He knew that Kenzie was only a few years younger. They’d gone to high school together, after all. And she’d been on her own for years in a big city since then, succeeding in a very competitive career. But she still felt younger somehow. Maybe it was that she was ready to open her heart and her stash of granola bars at the drop of a hat. Or that she smiled and seemed genuinely happy in spite of everything she was going through.

Happiness is a choice, he heard his mother’s voice telling him sternly.

But it didn’t feel like a choice to Aidan, not when the world told him he was bringing up his sweet boy in a place where promises had lost their meaning.

“Kenzie has a cast on her leg,” Walt’s husky little voice piped up suddenly from the back seat, as if on cue.

“Yes, she hurt her leg,” Aidan told him.

“How?” Walt asked.

Aidan frowned, and then realized that the news was literally in the paper, so he wasn’t sharing anything private by telling his son.

“Kenzie is a ballet dancer,” he said. “She got hurt while she was dancing.”

“Like on Maddy’s cake?” Walt asked.

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