A Valentine Kiss. Christy McKellen

to thank me for that.’

      ‘I know you don’t think I need to—which just proves my point. You are worthy, Mila. I’m the one who isn’t worthy of you.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t have the childhood you thought I did.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down. The gesture made him look so defeated she wanted to hold him in her arms, but as she followed his gaze she realised she was looking at grass. She’d made it down the stairs!

      ‘I did it...’ she said to herself, not quite believing this victory, especially after the fear had paralysed her for over a year.

      ‘Yeah, you did.’

      Jordan smiled at her, and for the first time since he had returned, she could tell that it was completely genuine, despite the look of disconcertion on his face.

      ‘I did it. I really did it.’

      She felt like a fool when her eyes started tearing up, but she couldn’t help it. A small piece inside her that had broken after she’d lost her son had become whole, and it gave her a sense of peace. She felt relief, a sense of accomplishment, and so many other emotions she couldn’t even begin to put her finger on.

      When she looked at Jordan, she saw that his frown had cleared, replaced by a look of satisfaction.

      He did this purposely, she thought and, ignoring the voice that screamed in her head, she hugged him.

      The comfort of it hit her so hard that she had to close her eyes. But that only heightened her senses. The woodsy smell of him was intoxicating—so familiar and masculine that awareness heated inside her. She was moulded to his body, could feel the strength of the muscles she had admired when she’d first seen him after he’d returned. His arms—which had been still at his sides until that moment—wrapped around her and she was pulled in tighter to his body. Her breathing slowed, her heart sped up, and she had to resist the urge to pull his head down so that she could taste his lips.

      And then she lifted her head and met his eyes. The heat of longing there was a reflection of her own, and she could feel the world fade as it always did with him. Gooseflesh shot out on her skin, and she considered for a brief moment what would happen if she kissed him.

      It would be magical, she knew. The things inside her that had died when he’d left would find life. She would finally feel alive again. But at what cost? a voice asked her, and she took a step back from him, knowing that it would take away everything she had rebuilt if she gave in to this temptation.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, and felt the warmth of a blush light her face. But she’d needed to say it, to make sure that he knew why she had hugged him—as a token of gratitude, nothing else. The physical effect the seemingly innocent gesture had awakened was merely an unforeseen consequence.

      ‘It’s the least I can do,’ he replied in a gravelly voice, and she knew that their contact had affected him, too.

      What was more surprising to her was that he looked as though he genuinely meant the words, that he wasn’t just saying them automatically.

      She cleared her throat. ‘So...we should probably start rallying the troops.’

      He nodded his agreement, and she forced herself to shift focus. She could be professional. She prided herself on it, in fact. She began to explain her strategy—she would speak to the vendors first, since they knew her, and then introduce them to Jordan as the new owner of the vineyard. Then they would pitch their event, find out if they were interested and available, and hope for the best. Since the will stipulated that they should give evidence of trying their best to find exactly the same service providers for the event, she would record their interactions and use them to show Mark if they needed to find alternatives.

      ‘You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’

      ‘That’s the job,’ she replied, her neck prickling at the admiration she heard in Jordan’s voice.

      ‘Where have I heard that before?’ he muttered, and she remembered she’d said something similar to him the first time they’d met.

      She brushed off the nostalgia. ‘We’d better get to it.’

      They spent almost two hours there. It was time spent waiting for vendors to find a moment to talk to them in between serving people, and eating to fill that time. She found herself growing more comfortable as the minutes went by, the tension that was always inside her around him easing.

      He was a wonderful ambassador for the vineyard, she thought as she watched him, and even though all the vendors remembered her and their event—especially since she had used many of them multiple times before—it was Jordan they responded to. He spoke to them with such warmth, with such praise, that she could almost see their spines straighten with pride. He played up his enjoyment of their food so much that sometimes she found herself giggling.

      The sound was strange, even to her, and she wondered why it was so easy to relax around him now. Her determination to focus on the event and ignore whatever was between them had been decided just that morning. A few hours later and she had spoken to him about the past, made herself vulnerable by admitting that she hadn’t thought she was worthy of him, and had walked down an intimidating staircase. And now she was laughing with him. At him.

      She knew that at some point he had gone from entertaining the vendors to trying to make her laugh. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she chose not to ponder it then. Not when for the first time in a long time she felt...free.

      ‘Ice cream?’

      She looked at him when she heard his voice, and realised that she had been staring off into space while she thought about the day.

      ‘I’m not sure it’s warm enough for ice cream,’ she replied, feeling self-conscious now.

      ‘The sun is shining, Mila. We should thank it by offering it the traditional food of appreciation.’

      Her lips curved. ‘And that’s ice cream?’

      ‘Yes, it is.’ He smiled back at her and her heart thumped. It was as if they were on a first date, she thought, and then immediately cast the thought aside.

      ‘Besides, we have one more vendor to see,’ he continued, ‘and he still hasn’t returned from his supply run.’

      She shrugged off her hesitation. ‘Sure—okay.’

      She followed him to the ice-cream stand, where they joined a long line.

      ‘Seems like everyone wants to make a sacrifice to the gods,’ she said, and smiled at him when he looked at her.

      ‘I told you so,’ he replied, and took her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

      And the truth was that on that day, after talking, after laughing together, with the winter sun shining on their faces, holding hands did seem natural. But it wasn’t, she reminded herself, and let go of his hand under the guise of looking for the notepad where she had written down the names of all the vendors and made notes.

      ‘I think we’ve done pretty well today,’ she said, and pretended not to notice the disappointment that had flashed across his face. ‘Of the six vendors here, three are interested and are available for two weeks—the end of this month and the beginning of next. It cuts our time in half. Not ideal, but I think it’s doable. And if we speak to the owner of the Bacon Bites food truck when he gets back, we could have four.’

      ‘So that means we only have to replace two or three?’

      Jordan slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and she wondered if it was because he was tempted to take her hand again.

      Her hand itched at the thought.

      ‘Yes, but we still need to hear from two vendors who aren’t here. Lulu said she would follow up on those. But I think we could substitute any who don’t come with some of the other vendors