Page 25 of The Holiday Gift

Yeah, a guy tended to remember the moment he lost his heart.

“I gave you a ride into town,” he said now. “Mary needed a gallon of milk or something.”

“That’s what she said, anyway,” Faith said, her mouth tilted up a little. “I think she only wanted me to get out of the house and have a look at our new community and also give me a chance to talk to someone around my own age.”

Notthatclose in age. He had been eighteen and had felt a million years older.

She had been so serious, he remembered, her eyes solemn and watchful and filled with a pain that had touched his heart.

“Whatever the reason, I was happy to help out.”

“Everyone else treated us like we were going to crack apart at any moment. You were simply kind. You weren’t overly solicitous and you didn’t treat me like I had some kind of contagious disease.”

She turned to face him, still smiling softly at the memories. “That was the best afternoon I’d had inforever. You told me jokes and you showed me the bus stop and the high school and the places where the kids in Pine Gulch liked to hang out. At the grocery store, you introduced me to everyone we met and made sure cranky Mr. Gibbons didn’t cheat me, since I didn’t have a lot of experience with American money.”

She had been an instant object of attention everywhere they went, partly because she was new to town and partly because she looked so exotic, with a half-dozen woven bracelets on each wrist, the choppy hair, her wide, interested eyes.

“A few days later, you came back and said you were heading into town and asked if Aunt Mary needed you to come with me to pick anything else up.”

That had basically been a transparent ploy to spend more time with her, which everyone else had figured out but Faith.

“That meant so much to me,” she said. “Your own father was dying but that didn’t stop you from reaching out and trying to help me acclimatize. I’ve never forgotten how kind you were to me.”

Was it truly kindness, when he was the one who had benefited most? “It couldn’t have been easy to find yourself settled in a small Idaho town, after spending most of your childhood wandering around the world.”

“It was easier for me than it was for Hope and Celeste, I think. All I ever wanted was to stay in one place for a while, to have the chance to make friends finally. Friends like you.”

She gave him a long, steady look. “You are my oldest and dearest friend, Chase. Our friendship is one of the most important things in my life.”

He wanted to squeeze her hand, to tell her he agreed with her sentiments completely, but he didn’t dare touch her again right now.

“Ditto,” he said gruffly.

She drew in a breath that seemed to hitch a little. She looked out the windshield, where a few clouds had begun to gather, spitting out stray snowflakes that spiraled down and caught the light of the stars.

“That’s why I have to ask you not to kiss me again.”

Chapter 7

Though she didn’t raise her voice, her hard-edged words seemed to echo through his pickup truck.

I have to ask you not to kiss me again.

She meant what she said. He knew that tone of voice. It was the same one she used with the kids when meting out punishment for behavioral infractions or with cattle buyers when they tried to negotiate and offered a price below market value.

Her mind was made up and she wouldn’t be swayed by anything he had to say.

Tension gripped his shoulders and he didn’t know what the hell to say.

“That’s blunt enough, I guess,” he finally answered. “Funny, but you seemed to be into it at the moment. I guess I misread the signs.”

Her mouth tightened. “It’s a strange night. Neither of us is acting like ourselves. Can we just...leave it at that?”

That was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her again until she couldn’t think straight.

He hadn’t misreadanysigns and they both knew it. After that first moment of shock, she returned the kiss with an enthusiasm and eagerness that had left him stunned and hungry.

“Can you just take me home?” she asked in a low voice.

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