“Why did you?”
The muscle in the side of his jaw flexed, and then he turned back to me. “Maybe I was jealous.”
My palm fell onto the counter, and I gasped. Gasped so hard my lungs felt a draft. “Yo-you’re jealous ofBrett?” It was inconceivable. Practically a joke.
So why did he appear so earnest?
Why were the tips of his ears burning bright pink?
“Stupid, huh?” he murmured, laughing at himself beneath his breath, then picked up a piping bag and a tray of tips.
“I went there for you,” I rushed out.
The bag fell onto the counter as he turned. “What?”
Despite the churning in my stomach and the warning bells going off in the back of my head, I couldn’t hold back the words. “I didn’t come to the farm the other night because Brett was nervous. I came because I wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to see me?” Hearing him repeat those words made my heart stutter.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I wanted to be with you when you harvested the mistletoe. I didn’t want you to do it alone.”
“Mayor Schroder was there.”
I gave him a look, and we both laughed, but when it faded, our gazes lingered.
“So no boyfriend?” he asked softly.
Butterflies didn’t really go with Christmas, yet here they were, wings gone wild in my stomach.
“No,” I echoed. “What about you?” I asked before the moment faded into the obscure. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said.
I nodded and turned back to the gingerbread.
“I don’t have a boyfriend either.”
My vision whited out, leaving me momentarily blind.Did he just say what I think he said? Imply that he likes men?
Silence stretched between us until I couldn’t withstand another millisecond. I turned my head just slightly, enough to see him from the corner of my eye. The bones in my fingers ached from the pressure I used to grip the countertop. “I didn’t know you liked… boys.” The words were a pressure release inside me. Almost a wheeze.
“I don’t,” he said, throwing me for yet another loop. “Just one.”
Just one.
One.
I wondered how far my heart would splatter if it exploded right there inside my ribs. And even as I told myself to not get my hopes up, they careened to the highest crest and teetered precariously on the edge.
What a rush it was. Until you fell without a net.
Picking at the edge of the roll of plastic wrap, I stared until my eyes crossed. “Maybe you should tell him that,” I said, not even recognizing the sound of my own voice.
“I tried once,” he divulged, and the hope inside me shattered.
I thought…I’d thought he was talking about me.
When will you ever learn, Toby? Archer Hodge does not love you, and he never will.
