The Giving Season

by Rebecca Brock

  “I don’t—uh—I don’t really know how to say this—” Jessy covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to fight back the burning blush, to cool her heated skin.

  Michael quietly stood, moving towards Jessy with an easy grace. She lowered her hands and watched him move, marveling at how comfortable he was with his own body. It made her feel even more unwieldy and cumbersome. He slowly smiled, his self-confidence falling just short of arrogance as he gazed at her. Jessy felt her mouth suddenly go dry, throat constricting tightly as she forgot everything for a moment.

  “You were saying—?” he prompted.

  Jessy cleared her throat and composed herself slightly. “I was saying that I, um, I don’t—” Jessy closed her eyes for a moment to escape his penetrating gaze. He sidled closer to her, backing her against the wall, his chest almost touching her folded arms. She instantly lowered her arms to her sides, then realized she’d made a mistake; now his chest nearly brushed her breasts with every breath he took.

  Damn it—how could she think straight when he looked at her like that? His gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth, lingering there for a few excruciatingly long seconds before returning to her eyes again. She felt the strength sliding out of her, ebbing away with each moment he gazed at her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m listening to you.” He wore the faintest hint of a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “Please—go on.”

  Angry with herself for being so silly and with Michael for being so damned sexy, Jessy momentarily forgot she was supposed to be embarrassed. The words poured out in a self-defensive torrent, her gaze slamming head-on into his.

  “This is all new to me, okay?” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, daring him to smile or make fun of her. “I mean, I’ve kissed before but—it was never so—never like that—”

  The barn suddenly became a vacuum of sound, the silence broken only by the occasional flutter of bird’s wings and the disgruntled huffs of the horses below. Jessy’s mouth closed with an audible snap, her eyes widening as she realized what she’d just admitted. She’d said too much. Way too much.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m too old to be this goofy. Please tell me I didn’t say what I think I just said.”

  The corner of Michael’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Honey, I’m not sure exactly what you just said.”

  Jessy pried open one eye and glared at him. “I’m embarrassed, okay?”

  “Okay—but why are you embarrassed?”

  Jessy sighed again. Might have known Michael wouldn’t settle for letting her be merely humiliated. Oh, no—he had to know why.

  “Because I’m thirty-two years old and I’ve only kissed one man in my entire life. Well—two, counting you.” Jessy kept her tone matter-of-fact; she couldn’t quite believe it, but somehow the sting of embarrassment was fast fading. She’d never really talked about this with anyone before, and Michael, if nothing else, was her friend. Besides, it seemed only fair to let him know what he was getting himself into. “It’s just embarrassing to be my age and still be so—inexperienced, that’s all.”

  Michael smiled faintly. “What’s so bad about that?”

  “Nothing—if it’s by choice.” Jessy cringed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Great. Now he’d think she was a closet nympho.

  Still smiling, Michael took her hand and silently led her back to the hay bale. He settled down on the floor, leaning back against the hay, and motioned for Jessy to join him. Moving with as much grace as she could muster, Jessy sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, keeping her head down and her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap. She knew that he was watching her, but damned if she could bring herself to look at him now.

  “So go on,” Michael said softly.

  “There’s not a whole lot more to say.” Jessy shrugged and managed a feeble smile, still staring at her hands as she twisted those invisible rings again. “I’m just completely inexperienced with this kind of thing, and when you kissed me I just—”

  Jessy’s voice trailed away as Michael picked up her hand and held it loosely in his, tracing the faint outline of veins on the back of her hand with his thumb. Despite the sudden quickening of her heart, Jessy managed to continue.

  “When you kissed me—I kinda panicked. I don’t exactly know the territory here.” Jessy smiled wryly and glanced up to him again. “I can’t believe I’m even talking about this to you.”

  Michael said nothing, lifting her hand instead to trail soft kisses along the length of each finger. He turned her hand over to press a kiss against the center of her palm, lips lingering for a heartstopping moment. Jessy could do nothing but stare at him.

  “Wh—what are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I’m kissing your hand,” Michael murmured against her skin. His mouth trailed along her inner wrist, the tip of his tongue lightly tracing the meandering line of her veins.

  Jessy closed her eyes, taken by surprise by how unbelievably wonderful the warmth of his mouth and tongue felt against her skin. She could almost imagine how it would feel to be kissed in other places—

  Her eyes snapped open, the moment shattered by an abrupt slap of reality as she imagined what his reaction would be if he saw her body with all its flaws. She could already anticipate his distaste, his disappointment if they ever became intimate. The thought of possibly facing that kind of pain and humiliation sobered Jessy instantly.

  Reluctantly she pulled her hand away from him, keeping her eyes downcast as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “What’d I do now?” Michael asked, a trace of impatience in his voice.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to,” he said simply.

  Jessy turned her gaze back to him again, not sure of how to respond to that. For years she’d struggled against allowing her sense of self to be shaped by the negative reactions of the people around her. She’d managed to develop a modicum of self-esteem through her schoolwork and her few friendships with others, but part of her had always felt that she shouldn’t ever expect anyone to fall in love with her. After all, it was a big world and there would always be someone better out there.

  She’d struggled against that mindset for years, logic giving way to emotion every time. She’d fought dearly for the self-confidence she possessed, trying desperately to make herself believe that she was a good person, that she really was deserving of love. Yes, there would always be someone prettier, smarter, thinner, better at math, whatever—but that’s life. Unfair as hell in some ways, but better than nothing. She’d accepted that, rising above her insecurities and fears to become a person who had finally learned to like herself, flaws and all.

  Now, however, she was beginning to doubt all that. She’d managed to put herself through college and graduate with honors. She’d managed to find a rewarding career that she loved. She’d managed to take care of her elderly aunt and make her last years as comfortable and peaceful as she could. She’d managed to do all those things alone, without a thought to her weight or her lack of a relationship. In a quiet, nontraditional way, she’d been a success in life.

  But now she was freaking out just because a handsome man wanted to kiss her. She couldn’t just relax and enjoy the moment or the attention. She couldn’t just accept the thought that he might possibly be physically attracted to her. For all the pining and whining she’d done in her life, she couldn’t believe that a man like Michael might actually see and like the person beneath all the weight.

  And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Michael or to herself.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, lowering her head. “I’ve been so—I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” he asked softly, the faintest of smiles on his lips. He tipped up her chin, gently lifting her gaze back to his. “Jess—?”

  “I’m just—” Jessy’s eyes shone with tears. She shrugged, unable to find the right words. “I’m just
weird.”

  Michael couldn’t help but chuckle as he gathered Jessy into his arms, holding her close as he smoothed down her hair and gently rubbed her back. He felt her stiffen beneath his hand, as though she didn’t want to be touched, but he refused to stop, allowing his hand to roam up and down the length and width of her back. He knew why she was so skittish. Everything, sooner or later, seemed to come back to her weight.

  It frustrated him to no end. Her weight was the last thing on his mind, and now that he was finally holding her, he realized that her size had nothing at all to do with the way his body was responding to her. She felt so soft, so comforting and warm as her body seemed to mold itself against his. He pulled her closer, the plushness of her breasts pressing full against his chest, and he felt a rush of desire that nearly blindsided him in its intensity. And if he had understood her correctly, the knowledge that she had no idea how deeply she affected him emotionally as well as physically, made him want her all the more.

  But he couldn’t take advantage of her innocence. She trusted him enough to be bluntly honest about her lack of experience, risking humiliation just so he wouldn’t be disappointed—as if such a thing were possible. She trusted him enough to cry in front of him, to lower her guard enough to weep quietly in his arms. The fact that he could even have such intensely sexual feelings about her at this moment made him feel vaguely guilty. And surprised at himself. Since the divorce, his sex drive had crept along at neutral. He’d had zero interest in dating anyone, zero interest in casual affairs. He liked sex, of course, and had enjoyed it immensely while he was still married—but that was exactly the problem. He couldn’t just drift into a “wham-bam-thank you ma’am” kind of one-night stand. He had to be in love with the woman. Maybe that made him a prude, but he couldn’t help it and refused to change it. He had been raised to believe that sex was the ultimate gift two people who loved each other could share. It was a serious commitment with serious consequences, and it was something he refused to enter into lightly.

  But here he was, comforting a woman he’d come to care deeply for as a friend, a woman he might not have even noticed had the situation been different, and he was so aroused by her that he didn’t dare to even move. Years of a monk-like existence had come screeching to a halt—and all because of this shy, unassuming woman who had only kissed two men in her life.

  “You okay?” he whispered, sliding his chin along the silkiness of her hair. She sighed deeply, and the hot rush of breath against his throat was nearly his undoing.

  “I’m fine.” Jessy raised her head from his shoulder, sniffing as she wiped at her eyes and shakily smiled. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” Michael smiled and drew the backs of his fingers along her wet cheek. “Besides, you look pretty when you cry.”

  Jessy laughed self-consciously and playfully slapped at his arm. “Liar.”

  “I’d prefer the term ‘sweet-talker,’ thank you.”

  “Do you always know the exact right thing to say?”

  Michael studied her for a moment. If that were true, then he would have already told her how he felt about her—and she might have already bolted.

  “No,” he finally said, smile fading slightly. “Not always.”

  He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, the perfectly sculpted shape of her lips, the faint blush of color that no lipstick could ever duplicate. In that brief kiss they’d shared earlier, he’d discovered that her lips were almost unbelievably soft and pliant. Her kisses alone could bring a man to his knees.

  But not just any man. He didn’t want to think of Jessy with anyone else. Damn it, he felt territorial now.

  “I need to ask you something,” Michael said softly.

  Jessy smiled almost nervously. “Okay—”

  “Would you mind if I kissed you again?”

  “What?”

  “Would you mind if I kissed you again,” Michael repeated quietly, reaching up to smooth back an unruly wave of hair from Jessy’s cheek. She had the softest skin he’d ever touched. “A real kiss this time.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Just follow my lead,” he whispered as he gently lowered his lips to hers again, kissing her with the slow tenderness he sensed that she needed. She shyly responded, tentatively returning his kiss, her hands fluttering lightly against his chest. He felt her relax against him, sensing that she was slowly growing more comfortable with his touch, more confident of her own ability. He felt as if he could kiss her for hours, that despite his earlier desire for more, he could be perfectly happy just holding her, touching her—

  But first he had to tell her how he was beginning to feel about her. No matter what the consequences.

  He broke away from the kiss, reluctantly lifting his head so that he could see her face, gauge her reaction. She gazed up at him with the most innocent, most trusting eyes he had ever seen, so completely different than—

  “Ann,” he muttered aloud, wincing as he fell back against the hay bale. He laced his fingers behind his neck, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his upraised knees. “Oh, my God—”

  If ever a moment could be shattered—

  “Ann?” Jessy said quietly.

  Michael’s distracted gaze snapped back to hers.“If she knew about this—with us—” Michael closed his eyes again, scrubbing at his face as he sighed deeply.

  Jessy went cold, thinking of the conversation she’d had with Ann on Thanksgiving. “What do you mean?”

  Michael shrugged helplessly. “My relationship with her is—complicated.”

  “Complicated,” Jessy said tonelessly. “Okay.”

  “When we divorced, she didn’t contest custody of the kids. She wanted to work in Chicago and the kids didn’t fit into that.” Michael looked at Jessy again. “We’ve had a pretty peaceful agreement about the kids, at least. She knows they’re happy here, and she’s welcome to visit anytime she wants.”

  “That’s—civil of you both.” Jessy thought of Ann’s words. They still had a relationship. For all intents and purposes, they were still together.

  “It’s for the kids’ sake, more than anything else.” Michael took Jessy’s hands in his, thumbs lightly stroking across her knuckles, his voice as soft as his touch. Jessy had to fight the urge to pull her hands away from him. It felt wrong.

  “I have to ask you this—” The words bubbled up and out before Jessy could stop them. “Do you still have feelings for Ann?”

  Michael said nothing for a moment, and to Jessy, that said it all. He looked away from her, let her hands slip out of his.

  “Honestly? Yeah—I did. For a long time, I did.”

  Jessy felt her heart shatter. She should have known. She should have seen this coming. Why she ever thought for a moment things could have turned out differently—

  “Okay,” she managed to say, struggling to paste a smile on her face. “I understand.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.” Michael took her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers. “Things changed.”

  “They don’t change just like that.” Jessy pulled away from him and stood up. She had to put some distance between them.

  “What’s going on, Jess?”

  “What about Ann?” she asked quietly, forcing herself to keep his gaze.

  “Ann’s always going to be a part of my life because of the kids, but—”

  “But you haven’t let her go, have you?” Jessy saw a shadow of guilt drift across Michael’s face.

  “Jessy—”

  “No—don’t tell me. It’s none of my business.” Jessy looked away from him, swallowing hard as she stared at her hands, feeling silly and stupid and hurt and irrationally betrayed.

  “We were married for a long time—”

  “Michael, please—don’t.” Jessy could actually feel herself hollowing out inside, could feel her heart tightening, aching. It felt as if everything was ending before it even had a chance to begin. “So—what happens now?”

&nbs
p; “What do you want to happen?”

  “I want you to keep your kids.”

  “What about us?”

  “All we did was kiss,” Jessy said, sighing as she looked back to him again. “We can leave it at that and walk away.”

  Michael remained silent, his gaze so penetrating that Jessy almost couldn’t speak. She swallowed hard, thinking of a thousand reasons to just allow herself to be swept up in a relationship that had the potential to be everything she’d ever dreamed. But every one of those reasons seemed to be rooted in selfishness. No matter how much she cared for Michael, no matter how lonely she had been before she met him, she could not—would not—put her own needs ahead of the kids’. They needed a father. And Michael needed them.

  “I think we have to.”

  Michael slowly nodded his head, biting at his lower lip. “So—is that how it’s going to be then? We just walk away from it now, stay friendly, and then you leave us after Christmas?”

  The pain in his voice was masked by a low, sarcastic anger. But Jessy wouldn’t be swayed. It would be better this way, ending it now before it could begin.

  “I’m sorry, Michael—”

  “Yeah,” Michael said roughly, abruptly getting to his feet. “Me, too.”

  He crossed the room without another word, climbing down the ladder without looking back. Jessy watched him go, wishing with all her heart that everything could have been different.

  But it wasn’t. And the sooner she accepted that, the better.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jessy watched the sunrise from her bedroom window. A fresh layer of snow blanketed the rolling hills, marred only by the line of footprints Michael had made on his way out to the barn. Every day since he’d brought her home she had gotten up to have coffee with him after he finished the chores. She’d loved those hours they spent together in the mornings. By dawn they’d be on their third cup of coffee, comfortable in their friendship, their easy companionship.