Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I t was happening. After meeting and talking and writing and hoping and wondering . . . there she was. Right there, next to Brandt. Alone in the woods three days before Christmas, and he was kissing her!

Just as she was getting the hang of things, he pulled away. "Wow. Sorry," he mumbled.

He was sorry? Trying to catch her balance again, she stared up into his face. His cheeks were ruddy. Was it from the cold and the snow . . . or was he embarrassed? Or, maybe, regretting everything?

A better woman would smile sheepishly, shrug off the moment and move on.

Unfortunately, she'd never been that woman.

"What are you sorry about?" she asked.

His expression looked even more pained. Kind of like he'd just walked into the ladies' room at school by accident.

"You know, Tricia."

Now she was becoming embarrassed and confused. "Did you not mean to kiss me?"

"What?" Before she could repeat herself, he spoke again. "No. Of course not!"

"Oh." So, that amazing kiss had been an accident. She wasn't sure how that could be, but she wasn't very experienced. Becoming more embarrassed, she turned her head away. Had she somehow inadvertently thrown herself at him?

"Trish, look at me."

She gazed into his eyes again, hoping against hope that she would see a hint of what was going on in his head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean no." He shook his head. "I mean, no, that's not what I meant."

He was being as clear as mud. "What did you mean?"

"What I'm trying to say is that I didn't not want to kiss you."

Didn't not . . . did that mean . . . "So, you did?"

He sighed, acting as if she was the one who couldn't converse clearly. "I meant, I did want to kiss you, but I didn't actually mean to kiss you. I kissed you without meaning to. It was on impulse."

"Ah." He'd kissed her on impulse. Was that good? She still had no idea.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Sorry, but nee ." She was pretty sure Brandt didn't go around kissing girls whenever he felt like it. At least she hoped he didn't.

"Come on. Let's get on back to the house." Just as she was about to protest, he flung an arm around her shoulders. "The snow is really coming down, isn't it?"

Looking at her black cloak, she couldn't help but nod. It was fairly speckled with white splotches. When it all melted, both her dress and cloak would be soaked.

So she allowed Brandt to guide her back to the house even though she would rather that he told her everything he was thinking—not only about why he'd wanted to kiss her, but what he'd thought about it.

He chuckled. "Tricia, don't," he murmured.

"Don't what?"

His hand squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry so much. I can practically see your brain spinning in your head. Everything is fine."

Unable to help herself, she leaned into him. Brandt's body radiated heat. Plus, well, she had a feeling that once they were back at the house, they'd be back to behaving perfectly properly. That was how they should be, of course.

But these moments, stolen and a little daring, felt special.

All too soon, she could hear the faint sounds of conversation and spied the glow of the solar-powered lights that came on whenever anyone approached the barn. "Looks like we're almost back."

"Are you going to paint the pinecones now?"

"Not quite yet." She usually liked to spread them out on newspaper and let them sit for a couple of hours. It gave any creepy-crawlies an opportunity to vacate their premises so she didn't have a spider or beetle stuck in or on any of the pinecones.

"So, after supper?"

"Probably."

"I'll be glad to help you, if you need it."

" Danke . I'll let you know."

He smiled down at her before leaning closer and giving her a one-armed hug. "Listen, Tricia, I didn't exactly tell you the complete truth earlier."

"You didn't?"

He shook his head. "The truth is that I've been thinking about kissing you for months. Every time we exchanged those letters, I would find myself thinking about you . . . and thinking about holding you in my arms." He blew out a burst of air. "That's why, when the opportunity presented itself, I took it. Even though I knew I shouldn't. Not because I had changed my mind, but because I respect you and didn't want to scare you."

If he could be honest, then so could she. "I wasn't scared."

"No?"

"I was surprised and flustered because . . ." Did she dare admit the whole truth?

He lowered his voice. "Because . . ."

"Because it was my first kiss and I didn't know what I was doing," she said in a rush. Then she held her breath. Half waiting for him to tell her that her inexperience was completely obvious.

"You did everything right, Tricia," he said.

Her lips parted. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Now hug me back before I kiss you again."

She raised her arms, intending to hug him tightly, when there was a loud snap a few feet away.

She jumped a foot.

"What are you two doing?" Mark called out as he strode forward.

"Nothing," she called out.

"It didn't look like nothing," Mark retorted as he stepped closer.

"How about this then?" Brandt said. "It was nothing you needed to be concerned about."

Her cousin's face darkened with fury. "I think differently. Did you just kiss Tricia, Brandt?"

"Not just now."

Tricia felt like covering Brandt's mouth with her hand. Of all the times to be completely honest, Brandt was picking this moment ?

Obviously, she was going to need to take things into her own hands. "Please leave us, Mark."

" Nee ." Still looking like a fierce rooster at daybreak, he puffed out his chest. "You, cousin, obviously need a chaperone."

"I do not. I'm fine, Mark."

"I'm not so sure."

Fury burned in Brandt's eyes. "Mark, you are overreacting, and all three of us know it," Brandt bit out. "Tricia is safe with me."

A muscle twitched in Mark's cheek. "She'd better be safe. I trusted you, Brandt." Jabbing him with a finger, he added, "Don't let me down."

Tricia had had enough of being treated like a fragile flower. "Mark, stop. Just stop."

"No. This needs to be said."

Turning to Brandt, she reached for his hand. "Come on. Let's go back to the house."

But instead of linking their fingers, Brandt backed up a step. "Tricia, I'm sorry, but I think I need a moment. Will you be okay?"

"Of course."

"Thanks." He turned and walked toward the back of the barn, where his room was located.

When he was out of sight, Tricia picked up the canvas bag nearly overflowing with pinecones. It was a lot heavier than she'd thought. "Come help me carry this into the barn."

Mark didn't budge. "Why do you need to go in there?"

She'd had enough of his silly, suspicious questions. "You caught me, Mark. Brandt and I are conducting a secret romance in your barn. When we're together, we do exciting things like sort pinecones."

"There's no need to be so sarcastic."

"I disagree. I think there's every need to be sarcastic. And angry. Now come help me carry these into the barn, clean them, and lay them out flat. I need to spray-paint them and let them dry before Christmas Eve."

"Why?"

"They're place card holders, you . . . you idiot. Now come help me."

He picked up the bag. "I made a mess of things, didn't I?"

"Jah."

"I'm sorry."

"You have picked the wrong person to apologize to." She lowered her voice. "Brandt is all alone and is here at your invitation. It was so wrong and mean of you to act as if you could take the invitation away at a moment's notice."

"You're right."

Gritting her teeth, she held the barn door open for him. At least there was that.