Page 15 of I'll Carry You

He set the boxes on the street, and the crowd cheered, the chant growing louder. She didn’t want to look out at the sidewalk. People she knew were out there.Oh my God.

Jason pulled her closer, slipping his hands on her waist. He searched her eyes. “Is this okay?”

Was it? That he’d asked for her consent surprised her. Most guys sort of just did that head-tilt-and-lean-in.

This. Was. Mortifying. “Yeah. Let’s get it over with.”

He hesitated, his eyes focusing on her lips. Then he pulled her closer, dropping a soft kiss on her mouth. His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle. She closed her eyes automatically—or squeezed them shut.

And her heart gave a giant lurch. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and her spine tingled.

When she realized the crowd was cheering and she was frozen in place, she drew a sharp breath, relaxing into his arms. Her mouth softened to his, and she kissed him back, her pulse pounding.

Jason pulled away after a few seconds. Or maybe a minute. She had no idea. The whole thing felt as though she’d passed out. An odd expression was in his eyes, and the dancers had moved on, satisfied with their performance.

“Um . . .” she stammered, then pressed her lips together. They continued to tingle.

What in the hell had just happened?

Jason leaned down and grabbed the boxes. “We might want to get moving before the ghost of the Christmas past drags us away.”

Nodding, she willed her feet into action. She hurried across the street toward the parking lot where most of the store employees from Main Street parked. “No wonder your car got towed,” she finally managed. There wasn’t any street parking left in town. “They probably thought you were trying to get around the rules.”

Jason didn’t respond right away. “They do this sort of thing a lot?”

She looked back at him as she reached her car, her face still burning.It was a good kiss.

She had to stop thinking about it. “Yeah, you know. Christmas. Thanksgiving. Pretty much any holiday is an excuse for a small town to celebrate.” Jen popped the trunk. “You can put those boxes down in there.”

“Sounds like an exciting place to grow up.” Jason put the boxes into the back of her car and straightened. He closed the trunk.

Yeah. Great place. Until you become the one everyone was whispering about. She unlocked the passenger side. “If you don’t mind, we can drop them off at the nursing home before I take you to the cabins. They’re on the way.” She climbed into the driver’s seat, and he got in beside her.

She glanced back into the back seat, hoping he wouldn’t judge the state of her car. Not that she’d ever been the neatest car owner, but life with a toddler had made it ten times worse. She was certain the Goldfish and Cheerios would be stuck between her seats forever. And Colby had a habit of putting his muddy shoes on the back of the passenger seat.

He shut the door. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Buckling his seat belt, he asked, “So you take donations to the nursing home?”

“My church runs it.” She started the engine. “It’s for the elderly poor—people who can’t afford housing and would be homeless. They run entirely off donations.”

He set his laptop bag on his lap. “So you’re a do-gooder, huh?”

She pulled out of her spot. “I wouldn’t say that.” She threw him a smile. “I just deliver the food.” If there was anything she hated, it was false humility. She didn’t really even like talking about the charity work she did. Kevin had always told her it was his favorite thing about her. When he’d left, she’d nearly quit it all, too angry with life and him to continue. Now she mostly did it out of habit.

Why did this guy keep bringing thoughts of Kevin to mind? Almost four years and she’d struggled to forget him. Kept hoping one day, he’d turn up again. Take a damn interest in his son.

A damn interest in her.

She pushed the thought away, flipping the windshield wipers on to clear some of the fog from her windows. “I take it you’renota do-gooder.”

Jason winced. “Ouch. What makes you think that?”

“To begin with, because the term do-gooder is a pejorative.” She came to a stoplight, which cast a red glow onto Jason’s face. With his dark hair and light eyes and complexion, he looked a bit like a devil. A charmingly handsome devil.

He didn’t meet her gaze. “I give plenty of money to charity.”

“Because it’s a good tax write-off?” She knew his type.

This time, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think we know each other well enough to discuss my taxes, but thanks.”

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