Page 24 of Winter Break

Green, I thought. His eyes were green, like his brother’s, but I’d never gotten lost in Brett’s eyes before. I’d never gotten lost in anyone’s eyes. I’d never dared.

I couldn’t stop.

His hand may have been slowly returning to my face, and mine may have been reaching for his waist, when the jingling bell that I usually loved to hear had us both jumping. He was gone, off the riser and greeting the new customer before I could even comprehend what had happened.

I stood stupidly in front of that chair and watched Dalton charm two older women, shopping for their grandkids. He was ringing them up before I could bring myself to move. Dalton (and the twins) had left a small stack of books on the display table next to the reading chair. I put them back on the shelves and wandered behind the curtain before the women made their exit, thanking Dalton profusely for being so sweet and helpful.

I dropped to my desk, staring blankly across it to the spot where Anita usually sat, where Anita usually looked right at me and knew what I was thinking and feeling. Where Anita was never afraid to be blunt with me and give me her advice.

Would she be shocked at what she saw staring back at her today? What would her advice be?

I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at nothing, thinking about everything. Eventually, Dalton called out, “Turner?” When had his voice become that deep baritone? I tried to remember the kid I’d met years earlier, the one who choked on his sandwich and goofed around with his best friend and wore shorts all winter break.

But all I could picture was the man I’d seen walking away from me on the boardwalk.

His footsteps got closer, and then he was there, in the office doorway. I hadn’t responded.

“Turner? It’s eight p.m. I’m gonna lock up, okay?”

I cleared my throat and shook my head no.

He looked at his watch. “No?”

“I mean. It’s not necessary. You don’t have to stay. I can close up.”

“Turner?”

I stood. “It’s Saturday night, Dalton. I really appreciate you helping us out this week. But you don’t need to be hanging out at the toy store on a Saturday night. You must have … your friends, you and Austin, you must have something going on, on a Saturday night.”

His movements were slow. Like I was a wounded animal who might run. He didn’t respond as he moved closer and closer, until he was right in front of me. He was bigger than me in every way. I would guess he was as tall as his brother, from the angle I needed to look up at those green eyes, and he was broad, all firm, athletic muscle under that shirt he probably hadn’t worn in over a year.

I had a few shirts with the new logo stashed away in a box in the back somewhere.

“I should …” I began, intending to find the box and give him a new, appropriately sized shirt.

But he spoke at the same time. “You have to realize, Turner …”

We tried again and tripped up again, me saying, “Realize what?” as he asked, “You should what?”, his voice sounding hopeful if cautious. I was still the wounded animal he was approaching.

Another moment or another lifetime passed, just like when I had been sitting in that chair. I mapped those green eyes, marveling at them. His arm extended slowly until it found my waist, those eyes never leaving mine.

His fingertips rested on my side, no pressure, just a simple touch, yet it felt as if his fingers were on fire, lighting me up from those gentle tips to the top of my head.

Slowly, he leaned down, never doing more than resting those fingers on my side. I should have moved away; I should have stopped what happened next.

“You have to know that I’m right where I want to be, Turner.”

I expected his kiss to be hesitant, the kiss of a young man just learning how to navigate an intimate situation. Instead, the gentle brush of his lips just felt right. Exactly right. His lips caressed mine, and I was powerless to do anything but kiss him back. The brush of our lips against each other was slow, soft, and deliberate. Eventually, Dalton’s hand tightened around my waist.

For one insane moment, I leaned into it, into him, taking a half step forward, guided by the fire gripping my side. He hummed out a moan, and the spell was broken, for me at least. I jerked my head back, stepping away.

Despite his height and size, Dalton stood there, eyes wide, otherwise small and lost, looking like he’d done something wrong.

“Dalton. I’m sorry, we can’t. You know we can’t.”

Dalton ran out of the room, through the curtain, and toward the front door. I followed him out of my office.

“Dalton. Dalton!”