Page 56 of Sweet Trouble
14
TRIPP
Tripp arrived right on time Friday night, feeling confident that he’d planned a perfect night for Jillian.
He’d worked on the farm for as many hours as he could squeeze in, and at twice his usual pace. He was feeling bad for all the afternoons and evenings he’d been spending at the Johnson place, no matter how much his own family encouraged it.
They all seemed almost hopeful about the time he was spending with Jillian. It was touching, but it also felt like pressure—like he didn’t want to let them down.
Tripp showered right before heading over, trying not to think about it too much. He put on a crisp new pair of jeans and a white button-down, and splashed on a little aftershave. His hair was still damp as he hopped out of his truck at the Johnsons’ house.
Jogging up the front porch steps, he thought about how grateful he was that he’d been allowed to repairthem. By next Christmas, the whole house would be good as new, if he had anything to say about it.
He knocked on the door and tried to pull himself together while he waited. But his teenage self, kept whispering in his mind.
It’s happening. It’s really happening…
He’d hoped for a moment like this one for so long, it almost didn’t seem real.
“Hey,” Jillian said, pulling open the door.
For a second, he was speechless.
Her long golden hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore a pale pink dress that clung slightly to her curves. She was smiling up at him so happily that it made his heart pound.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, his voice a little rough.
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks going pinker than her dress.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “Or should I come in and let your grandfather give me a warning about getting you home on time?”
“I think he approves,” Jillian said, laughing. “You’re probably good.”
“Nah, he just knows I’m a farmer,” Tripp teased. “So I don’t stay out late.”
Jillian smiled as she pulled on her coat and slipped outside, closing the door behind her.
He caught a tiny whiff of peppermint, and wondered again if it was perfume or shampoo. In any case, it made his mouth water.
But he was determined to be the gentleman she deserved, so instead of taking her in his arms and kissing her like he wanted to, he offered her his hand.
“Shall we,” he asked.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it.
A sizzle of awareness shot up his arm at the feel of her soft hand in his.
He walked her slowly down the porch steps to his truck. He normally kept it pretty neat, but he’d given it a good cleaning today, just to be sure.
When they reached it, he opened her door and helped her up.
She’s in my truck,his inner teenager whispered.
Tripp smiled and got in on his side, turning the key to start the engine once they both had their seatbelts on.
The radio came on—Paul McCartney singing about having a wonderful Christmastime.
“Gram loves this one,” Jillian said fondly.
