Page 16 of No Time for Traditions

She nodded slowly, glancing down at his hand on her elbow. Maybe she wanted him to move it, but he didn’t. Her skin was soft against his calloused hands, and it calmed his nerves the longer he touched her.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your family. You’ve got to know that.” Greg inched closer to her.

Brittany closed her eyelids, sending a stream of tears down her face. She let out a heavy sigh, and he felt her body lift and lower as he held her arm. Greg lifted his other hand and gently wiped the tears from her cheek. Her warmth tickled his fingertips as he brushed them toward her chin.

Greg took one more step toward her so the toe of his boot touched her foot. She opened her eyes and raised her face toward his. There was less than a foot between them. His heart rate picked up. He’d never stood this close to Brittany, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

He fixated on her lips. They were the color of pink lemonade, and he wondered if they tasted like it, too. She parted her lips as if she wanted him to kiss her, but before he could lean in, she spoke. He’d misread her lips.

“I think you need to go.”

* * *

Brittany tappedher fingers on the edge of her desk. She’d made such great strides in writing her story over the weekend, but the words wouldn’t come today. No. Correction. Words did come. Just words she didn’t want to write.

No matter the appearance or occupation of her main male character, he came out sounding like Greg each time she wrote him into a scene. Despite her best efforts, Greg had taken claim to a corner of her brain, and she couldn’t shake loose the thought of him.

Him coming by this morning made it even worse. Before, she could concentrate on the farmhouse and convince herself Greg had joined forces with her family to betray their heritage. Then he walked in to check on her and had tried his best to cheer her up. He’d even come dangerously close to kissing proximity when he wiped the tears from her face.

Worse still, a part of her wanted him to kiss her.

Brittany leaned on her desk and buried her hands in her head. What kind of twilight zone had she entered? Some stranger would soon live in Grandpa Barnes’s house, and now she wanted to kiss Greg Tucker? The same guy who’d been a continuous annoyance throughout her entire adolescence.

Aside from the snarky laughs here and there, Greg had changed. Instead of the annoying loudmouth who ran through cheerleaders quicker than he ran through a defensive line, Greg was . . . normal. Even better than normal. He was caring and mature.

Brittany wanted to think it was all for show. That he didn’t really care. But the way he looked at her this morning, with such concern and sympathy, proved otherwise. She hadn’t asked him to go because she wanted him to leave. She’d asked him to go because she was afraid of what might have happened if he’d stayed.

Raising her head and glancing out the frosty window, Brittany realized Greg had no idea how she felt. On the one hand, that was great. She hadn’t quite sorted out her feelings and might not want to act on them—ever. Then again, he probably thought she was still mad at him about the survey. While she wasn’t ready to call Greg one of the good ones and lead him under the mistletoe, she didn’t want him to think she still hated him.

The computer screen showed her it was almost lunchtime. Brittany grabbed her boots and rushed downstairs to the kitchen. She packed what was left of her sugar cookies and heated up some lasagna leftover from last night’s dinner. Placing the food and disposable dinnerware into a tote, she grabbed a jug of tea and headed out the back door.

Brittany climbed into the cab of the Toyota pickup that had been a part of the Barnes family for almost as long as she had. She and Scott both learned to drive in Old Blue and had driven it before getting their own cars. Marty kept it around for a spare.

It was freezing inside. Brittany turned the heat on high, knowing full well by the time it warmed, she would be at Grandpa’s house. Still, it made herthinka little warmer.

Brittany smiled when she saw Greg’s red truck parked in front of the farmhouse. Her muscles twitched as she shut off the truck and got out. She shouldn’t feel the way she did, and bringing him lunch would only make it worse.

For a split second, Brittany thought of climbing back in the truck and driving home. But she saw Greg at the edge of the trees, and he saw her, too.

“Brittany?” Greg called out from a few yards away.

“Yeah.” Past the point of no return, she held a hand over her jittery stomach and walked toward him. She stopped a few feet away. “Have you eaten lunch?”

Greg shook his head. “I keep a jar of peanut butter and a pack of crackers in the cab, but other than that, I don’t take much time to eat while I’m working.”

“Well, I’ve heated up some lasagna if you’re hungry.”

“I’m always hungry.” Greg winked at her, causing Brittany’s knees to weaken. She subconsciously scolded herself for falling prey to his charm.

“It’s in the truck.” Brittany backed up a few feet, as if she were scared to get too close to him.

Greg set a piece of equipment that looked a lot like a clunky game console on his four-wheeler and headed her way. Brittany brought all the food to the hood of his truck.

“Think of this as a peace offering to let you know I’m not mad.”

“Okay . . .” Greg’s voice trailed off, showing his confusion.

Brittany bit her bottom lip and looked around. She couldn’t come out and say she hadn’t wanted him to leave. That would let him know she wanted him to stay.

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