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“I see through you, B. Wheeler. You’re not as tough as you try to act.” On impulse she grabbed both his upper arms, came up on her toes, and kissed him. She wasn’t sure who looked more shocked him or her.
Seconds later, Brandon pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers. They were cool, calculating, and delicious. The man knew how to kiss. He teased and tasted, creating a heat in her that had her reaching for more. His beard brushed her cheek along with his mouth before he stepped away.
Laurel rocked back on her heels. She stood watching as Brandon disappeared into the forest. With a sigh, Laurel turned and walked down the street.
At the Inn, she left her boots, Brandon’s, on the front porch and climbed the stairs in sock feet, also Brandon’s. The wooly-looking version of him had gotten to her just as the clean-cut one from the picture had. Standing under the hot water of the shower, she had the feeling she’d just lost something. Now she had found him, she couldn’t just drive away. She had to try again to get Brandon to see he needed to work. If not for others, then for himself.
She searched through her clothing for something more practical to wear then she’d had on the day before. Choosing a sweater, jeans, and her thickest socks, which were more dressy than practical, she dressed. She stuffed what few things she had used into her suitcase then zipped and sat it beside the door. Branden’s socks lay on the floor. She would stuff them in his boots so that they were returned as well.
Minutes later she told the receptionist goodbye and let her know that Brandon would be by to pick up his socks and shoes. It wasn’t until she drove down Main Street that a plan formed. When Laurel passed the Five and Dime, she turned into the next parking place. She had to try one more time to convince Brandon to continue his art. Then maybe he would reconsider letting her represent him.
Just maybe if she helped to bring him back into the real world, he would see what he had been wasting. She would start by giving him a Christmas. She could get decorations to make his cabin festive. Also, it would be her way of saying thank you for him being so kind to her when she showed up at his door uninvited. Laurel called her cousin and told her she would be late.
With a plan in mind, Laurel pulled her bag over her shoulder and headed into the store. There she picked up everything she needed to make the cabin festive as possible, along with a pair of flannel-lined jeans, a knit cap with rabbit ears, heavy socks, and rubber boots.
She made a quick stop by the Inn and asked for her room back. She was told it was already booked for the night and the entire Inn as well. Laurel would have to drive through and arrive at her cousin’s place late. While at the Inn, she changed into her new jeans. She picked up Brandon’s boots on her way to the car. Those she would return herself.
Laurel parked her car in the last spot at the end of town closest to the path. She unpacked the matching duffle bag to her suitcase, leaving the items on the back seat. Stuffing the things she bought into the bag, she pulled on her new boots.
She put her arms through the straps and pulled the bag on like a backpack, shifting the weight until it was comfortable. Tying Brandon’s boots by the strings, she picked them up and started toward the path. Hers and Brandon’s footprints were still visible. She was careful to stay on the path he had created. After stopping twice to adjust her baggage, it was with relief that she reached the clearing. She stood watching the cabin. Was he there or outside somewhere?
She broke into a sweat that had nothing to do with exertion as she approached. Second thoughts swamped her. Would Brandon be mad she returned? He hadn’t been pleased to see her the first time – what made her think he would be this time? Maybe that kiss?
What had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago didn’t look like one now. But she had come this far. Laurel was no quitter. Her father had always told her, “Don’t ever give up on what you want.” She wanted Brandon to trust her.
Stomping through the snow across the opening, she practiced at least ten times what she would say when he opened the door. She dropped her bag to the snow while she knocked. No answer. Her anxiety increased. Her pulse raced. She called, “Brandon.” Still no answer. She stomped her feet as she knocked again. She couldn’t stand in one spot all day even if it was a beautiful one. Turning the knob, she found the door would open. She entered and closed the cold weather out, putting her bag on the floor inside.
Why was she really doing this?
Because she felt sorry for Brandon. Wanted to bring some happiness into his life. He didn’t know it, but he needed to return to the real world.
She looked around. Everything was as it had been that morning. Except the black curtains had been pulled back. They had remained closed the entire time she’d been there. She’d had the feeling he didn’t want her to know what was behind them. Now they were open, she couldn’t resist looking.
It was a workshop of sorts. Not a very large one, but everything he needed to create his works was standing waiting on him, a bandsaw, a stand sander, and polisher. A long workbench ran along the far wall.
A couple of half-finished works sat on the workbench. Brandon’s pieces were beautiful. He’d taken twisted pieces of wood and formed them into a man and a woman intertwined in passion and another was a large bird in flight. Both were stunning in their simple beauty. How could the man not see his talent and ability?
He’d obviously been doing some work. So why hadn’t he shared? Because she was a stranger. Yet they’d told part of their lives to the point they were no longer strangers. Based on these pieces, Brandon’s hand hadn’t affected his work, if anything it had made it better. More passionate, thought-provoking. Could the problem be that he didn’t think it was up to his standards?
She could help him regain confidence. He must recapture it for him, and her.
As much as she’d like to continue to admire his expertise, she had decorating to do before hopefully Brandon returned. Already this visit hadn’t gone as she had planned. When Brandon entered, she would say, “Ta-da, I wanted to give you a little bit of Christmas.” Or maybe better, she could decorate and be gone before he knew it. Somehow that sounded safer.
She sat down in Brandon’s chair and removed her boots before adding a couple of logs to the fire. She unloaded the bag of stuff she had bought.
Laurel jumped when the door opened with a gust of wind that made the fire blaze. In stepped Brandon. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here now?” He whipped off his knit cap then waved it toward the floor where all her purchases lay. “What’s all of this?”
Apparently, her idea hadn’t been a good one after all. Keeping her voice even she said, “I thought it wrong for you to spend Christmas without any decorations or company. So, I brought a little Christmas cheer to you.”
“You know this could be called breaking and entering.” He walked to the curtains and whipped them closed.
She stood. Her back went straight. “I didn’t break anything. I just entered.”
“And I thought I had sent you on your way,” he murmured as he pulled off his coat. Brandon stood with his legs spread and hands on his hips glaring at her. “Are your feet frostbitten again?”
“No, I bought some warm pants and boots.” She nodded toward her footwear. “Not very fashionable but my feet stayed dry.”
“For once you showed some common sense.” He looked down at the stuff on the floor. “What’s all this stuff?”
