Page 8 of No Time for Traditions

If his mom found out anyone remotely his age, single, and attractive was back in town, she’d start meddling. Particularly if she knew that girl was Brittany Barnes.

Greg drove up to the window and exchanged some cash for his food. Wings were always a good choice. And they were a no-brainer when he needed a night free from parental interrogation.

A few minutes later, Buttercup met him in the driveway. His niece was to thank for giving a hunting dog such a masculine name. “Hey, girl.” Greg reached in his truck door and pulled out a treat. He always kept some handy since Buttercup liked to ride with him.

Her long tail wagged with enthusiasm, beating against the front of his truck as she nibbled on the soft chew. Greg patted her on the head and held his wings up with the other so she wouldn’t also grab his treat. Then he ran up the steps above his parents’ garage, hoping to sneak in before his mom heard him.

When he opened the door, a tiny fiber-optic tree glowed from the corner of the room. Greg rested his hand behind his neck, knowing how it got there. Mom.

Willa had insisted Greg needed a tree for his apartment, while he assured her single men pushing thirty didn’t care to decorate a Christmas tree. This led to a back and forth about pre-lit tree options or letting her decorate. None of her solutions satisfied Greg in the least. Yet Willa refused to believe Greg wouldn’t enjoy a tree in his own space.

Greg flipped on the light and crossed the room to turn off the tree. He used a card table for a makeshift desk and still had the mismatched couch and chair from his college days. Everything about Greg’s apartment screamed temporary. Except for that stupid tree.

After pouring himself a generous cup of sweet tea, Greg shrugged out of his coveralls and sat on the couch with his dinner. He gazed at the bare walls and minifridge set up in his makeshift kitchen area. His mind wandered into dangerous territory, considering what his life might look like had Autumn wanted to marry him.

But considering such scenarios wouldn’t change the fact that Autumn hadn’t wanted the same things he had. He’d still be living above his parents’ garage, eating wings from a takeout box to avoid his mother, and aggravated about Brittany Barnes’s snobby response to seeing him today.

Greg sucked barbecue sauce off his fingertips and frowned at the tiny tree. It made him think of the Barnes’s over-the-top decorations, which reminded him of Brittany’s stupid socks. Similar to how all of his thoughts today—even those of Autumn—somehow led back to Brittany.

Chapter 4

Brittany stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She’d finished reading through the manuscript from Thursday and emailed her comments back to the author. Now, whenever her family was at work, she could concentrate on her own writing. Something she’d put on the back burner for far too long.

Her hips stiffened from the old wooden chair. It was painted lavender, as was her desk and bedframe. Sarah hadn’t changed much at all in her room since she’d moved out a good five years ago. Sleeping in the company of Holiday Barbies and spelling bee trophies brought back old memories—good and bad.

Brittany stood and stretched, twisting from side to side. When she turned toward the window, her eyes caught a glimpse of a bright orange ball. She walked to the window for a closer look. It was someone wearing a toboggan. Surely, her dad hadn’t leased hunting land this close to their home.

The person moved closer to the clearing at the edge of their yard. That’s when she noticed a large yellow tripod and the absence of any hunting weapons. Greg. It had to be.

Brittany sat on the edge of her bed and took in a deep breath. Against her own will, she’d thought about him all last night. His annoying playboy tendencies in high school made her cringe. His handsome face, now with matured lines surrounding his perfect smile, made her cringe even more. But for different reasons.

Yesterday, she’d found him attractive. Of course, Greg had always been attractive. Even in middle school, when most people went through an awkward phase, he’d somehow made braces look cool. But her attraction ran deeper than that.

It was as if yesterday, she’d really seen him for the first time.

Brittany pulled her knees in close and dropped her head. She hadn’t seen Greg since high school graduation, when he went on the senior trip and she’d started college early. Was she surprised to see him again? Yes. Shocked, even. Surely, that explained the tingling sensation that shot through her when she’d seen him. And it’d caught her so off guard that she’d had no choice but to act snarky.

Perhaps that’s why she’d thought about Greg all night? She felt guilty about acting so rudely.

Brittany hopped to her feet and changed out of her flannelElfpajamas into leggings and an oversized sweater. She slid on a pair of duck boots and stepped out of her room into Sarah’s decked hallway. An end table at the stairs landing showed off a porcelain nativity scene, and the same greenery displayed downstairs adorned the second-floor railing.

Her dad was outside, as usual, and her mom had driven into town to pick up her nephew so that his parents could do some Santa shopping. Even at nine in the morning, Sarah had turned on every decorative light, as well as Scott’s old train. Brittany smiled, knowing she’d be the same way in thirty years, if not much sooner.

A cool breeze nipped at her ears when she stepped onto the front porch, proving that winter weather had at last found its way to Alabama. She hid her hands in her sweater sleeves for extra warmth and headed toward the edge of their yard. Greg stood where the tree line started, which separated her parents’ property from Grandpa Barnes’s yard.

Brittany stopped a few feet in front of him, their eyes meeting for a second before he turned back to his equipment. Realizing he wouldn’t acknowledge her unless she spoke first, Brittany swallowed her pride with a large breath of crisp air.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Greg didn’t answer. He just kept working as if she didn’t exist.

“Greg?”

He pulled a small notepad from his pocket and jotted something down. She waited another minute, giving him a chance to answer. Instead, he mumbled something to himself and fiddled with his equipment.

Brittany rolled her eyes. Knowing Greg, he ignored her on purpose to make this apology as painful as possible. “Greg!”

“Yes, ma’am?” Greg jerked his head up and spoke around the pencil he’d rested between his flawless teeth.

---