Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(61)

It took her less than five minutes to bring the tree back to the house, where she proceeded to cut it into firewood.

Christian felt like getting drunk, burping, making out with a stranger, and cussing all at once, if only to prove to himself and everyone else he was still a man.

He hesitated before going outside, knowing full well what Kessen’s response would be once he set his foot across the threshold. Most likely mocking, condescending, and many other things he didn’t care to review at the time.

Keeping his head down, he slowly stepped into the nighttime air and quietly closed the door behind him. The embarrassed little boy in him was definitely making a triumphant appearance as he shoved his hands in his pockets, all the while avoiding eye contact with Kessen and her lumberjack ways. When the splitting of firewood stopped, he heard Kessen toss some logs into the fire-pit and wipe her hands.

This was it, the moment that would define him forever. How would he react when Kessen began making fun of him? Would he rise to the occasion, or would he cower in the corner and finally realize he was nothing but a little boy?

She cleared her throat.

He looked up and squinted.

She put her hand out.

He took it.

“Uh … well, I mean, I like holding your hand,” she said, squeezing. “But what I actually wanted was matches. Unless you somehow know how to make fire appear out of thin air.”

No witty retort came; he was completely undone. Christian quickly looked around and located the matches he had found in the kitchen while making his narrow escape; he lit a few and started the fire.

“How did you…?” he started to ask.

“Colorado,” was her answer. “I like to think that when people judge me about where I live, they are doing it solely based on ignorance. It is a beautiful state, lots of mountains…”

“Badgers?” he offered, laughing.

She coughed to hide her laughter. “Yes. Yes, though we have badgers, they don’t like loud noises, you know.”

“Yes, I gathered that.” He licked his lips and smiled again, shaking his head from side to side. “You’re not going to tell Duncan, are you?”

Kessen leaned back and stretched. “Well, I could tell Duncan or Nick, but … I think I rather enjoy having something like this to hang over your head.” She winked at him.

He was again totally enamored with the girl.

He had to marry her.

No longer just something he’d do for his family’s honor, or for her father’s company, had was the word that best fit his feelings. Being her husband would never be boring; it would never be merely an arrangement. Instead, a friendship and passion were growing between them, something he hadn’t expected to find. Yes, he had to marry her. If for nothing else, his own selfish reasons of not wanting to ever live without having her near, even if she did scare him to death at least half the time they were together.

Kessen began rummaging through a bag next to her. Christian was too afraid to break the spell of their working together, so he merely watched while she pulled out a favorite shirt of Duncan’s and one of Nick’s.

“A toast!” she yelled, flinging them into the air in front of him.

“To our dear friends,” he finished, grabbing one of the shirts.

“Who sacrificially went back to London to fetch a dress that doesn’t exist.”

“And a swimsuit.”

“And a matching purse, was it?” She laughed.

“Among other things.”

“Hear, hear!” She threw the first shirt in. His soon followed, then she threw him a marshmallow, and they went to work on their dessert.

“I used to be afraid of marshmallows,” he found himself saying out loud. He was doing a lot of that lately.

“Oh?” she asked, putting two mallows on the skewer and laying it across the fire “Why?”

“Why what?” he asked, distracted with his own mallows.

“Why were you afraid of a piece of food?”

“Ahh,” he said, licking his sticky fingers. “It is quite simple; I hated to get dirty when I was little, and marshmallows had the audacity to constantly cling to my fingers.”

She gave him a “you must be joking” look, and he laughed.

“Okay, fine. The real story is Duncan and I wanted to have a camp out. We actually did it here at this very house. He set one of the marshmallows on fire and flung it through the air. It landed on my skin and burned me. It took me years to gain the courage to eat them again.”

She nodded somberly then began shaking her skewer.

“Wha—what are you doing?” he asked, slightly panicked. Would his embarrassment know no end?

“Oh, just playing,” she answered, still shaking the skewer.

“Uhh, do you mind not shaking the death stick?” He began scooting away slowly.

“You mean this death stick?” she asked calmly. Kessen shook it vigorously into the fire, and the marshmallow flew through the air. Christian, in another total state of panic, closed his eyes.

Nothing happened.

He opened one.

Kessen was right in front of him.

Or rather, Kessen was nearly straddling him.

He rather liked this sudden change of events.

Only one mallow had flown off; she brought the other one to his lips.