Page 10 of No Time for Traditions

“Well, then it looks like you have a lot to learn. I’ll leave you kids alone so Greg can help you research.” Marty patted Greg on the shoulder and winked at Brittany.

Every ounce of cold left her body, and judging by the flames beneath her cheeks, she was sure she looked like Rudolph.

Greg kept a neutral face until Marty went in the house, and then started laughing. “So, you’re writing a romance novel about me?”

Brittany’s stomach flipped. “I’m not writing anything yet, and never about you.”

“But you said a surveyor.” Greg raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“You’re the one who said I came out here to learn about it. I would’ve been fine telling Daddy I came to apologize.”

“Would you?” Greg’s smile faded, and his eyes narrowed.

“Fine. No, I didn’t want him to know I was rude.”

“That’s what I figured.”

Brittany put a hand on her hip and wrinkled her forehead. How dare Greg insinuate he knew her that well. Sure, they grew up together. But that meant nothing. She hadn’t thought about him in years . . . until last night.

Greg shook his head. “I know you’re not my biggest fan. You never have been.”

Brittany opened her mouth to respond, but Greg held up a hand.

“I’ll keep my distance. I’m just trying to hurry up and help your dad get this place on the market.”

“On . . . the market?” Brittany’s throat went dry as the words seeped through.

“Yeah, Grandpa Barnes’s old place.”

“Old place?” Brittany emphasized each syllable to prove her annoyance.

“I’m just doing what I was hired to do, and that’s to map out all the property lines and to also cut out your grandpa’s house to sell.”

Brittany’s hands tingled, and her vision blurred. A log truck could’ve hit her head-on, and it wouldn’t hurt as bad. She wanted to scream, but her throat closed up. She wanted to punch Greg, but she couldn’t. Her hands were numb, and she couldn’t see straight enough to make sure she would hit his face instead of a pine.

Tears burned under her eyelids. Not wanting him to see her cry, she turned and ran back to her house. She slammed the front door behind her, causing a few magnolia leaves to fall by her feet. As the tears started to flow, Brittany slid down the door and ducked her head into her knees.

She already had to spend Christmas without her grandpa. Christmas at his farmhouse was all she had left.

* * *

Greg stayed plantedat the edge of Marty’s property, staring at the front porch. What could he have said to set Brittany off like that? Was it him referring to Grandpa Barnes’s house as an “old place”? Because it was. The house was dang near sixty years old.

Greg stared at the house until the Christmas lights began to run together. He wanted to check on Brittany. When her eyes began to water, he’d wanted to reach out and hug her. Perhaps even kiss her. Though she probably wouldn’t respond well to that. Instead, he’d stood there like an idiot and let her run.

Come to think of it, this wasn’t the first time Brittany had run from him. He threw rocks at her in the third grade, causing her to run and tell on him. He hadn’t done it because he didn’t like her. He’d done it because he did like her. He just didn’t know how to show it. Years later, he’d joked about her studying instead of coming with everyone to a pre-homecoming party. She’d marched off in the opposite direction at warp speed, so she may as well have run then, too.

She didn’t like him, and he knew it. So him going to check on her would only make matters worse.

Greg let out a large breath of icy air and went back to work. Something about Brittany intrigued him. He’d always found her attractive. And she was. Very much so. Blue eyes, long brown hair, and petite features made her most guys’ type. But she was smart, too, and independent. She’d never followed the crowd or cared if she was popular. He couldn’t say that for any other pretty girls . . . or even for himself. In fact, out of all the women he’d dated over the years, Autumn included, none excited him the way Brittany did.

As Greg moved his equipment down near the driveway, he thought about the past few years. He’d gone south for college, and she’d gone the other direction. He’d met Autumn in college, and Brittany had moved to New York after graduating, leaving little chance they’d ever see each other again. She’d been a distant memory until yesterday.

Now she was back and single. Her opening the door sent all those teenage hormones to the surface, and he was seventeen again. At least on the inside. The only problem was, seventeen-year-old Brittany hated seventeen-year-old Greg. And being twenty-seven appeared to make no difference.

Greg made some notes in his field book and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He couldn’t wear thick gloves and do all he needed to do with his hands. And on a day like today, he wanted to save as much time as possible.

He spent about thirty more minutes around the edge of the property before calling it a day. Each time he repositioned, Greg tried not to look at the Barnes’s home. Or at least at the windows. He couldn’t stop thinking about Brittany and wondering what had made her so upset. But he didn’t want to be nosy or, worse, creepy.

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