Daisy's Decision (Dixon Brothers #4) - Hallee Bridgeman Page 0,1

or her attempts at makeup.

School kicked off, and Daisy consulted with friends, never naming her crush, always trying to understand exactly how they got boys to notice them. Her mother caught her looking mopey and angsty, and Daisy nearly confessed the name of her heart’s desire, but she feared that her parents would keep them apart, so she kept it secret. However, she interrogated her mother about how she knew her father was “the one,” how she got him to notice her, and a thousand other questions.

At Christmas that year, though she nearly chickened out a hundred times, Daisy handed Ken a simple Christmas card right after the Cantata at their church. He stared at the card, puzzled, then said, “Oh. Thanks. You guys got the card Mom and Dad sent, right?”

“Yes. Yes, we did.” Daisy felt her smile falter just a little bit. His gray eyes had trapped hers, somehow, and she wanted to touch him, hold his hand, something. He just stood there looking down into her eyes, and she took a breath and bravely carried on. “I actually got this card for you. It’s from me.” After what she instinctively knew was a slightly too long pause, she concluded, “Ken.”

Oh, my, how she liked saying his name while he looked into her eyes. She longed for him to say her name, to hear it pronounced with that slight Atlanta southern drawl in that very baritone voice of his.

“Oh.” His eyes left hers to look down at the sealed envelope, and suddenly she could breathe again. “Okay, well, Merry Christmas. See you guys after the New Year.”

The brothers went on a two-month-long mission trip that summer, once more, leaving Daisy alone with her thoughts and hopes and dreams for the future. By the end of the summer, Daisy had convinced herself that the feelings she had for Ken Dixon amounted to little more than a young girl’s crush. Just puppy love.

She convinced herself with the unshakable certainty of every fourteen-year-old girl who has ever lived that the next time she laid eyes on Ken Dixon, her heart rate would stay steady, she would not feel dizzy, she would not feel tongue-tied, and she would have the ability to look away from him at will. He refused to even notice her? She wouldn’t even notice him. Ken Dixon was simply not worth her attention.

The first youth group meeting after the Dixon brothers returned from their mission trip, it just so happened that her mother was out of town looking in on a sick cousin. Daisy made sure she had things to do in the kitchen. That way, she didn’t even answer the door when they arrived. Her father happily greeted and seated all of their guests. The group had grown and split a time or two to keep the size manageable.

Just before youth group service began, Daisy carried in the last tray of snacks. She nearly dropped it when she saw Ken purposefully walking toward her with an elaborately wrapped gift in his hands.

He had grown at least another few inches. His skin looked evenly tan, making his teeth look whiter and his stubble look darker. She could swear he had more muscles on his shoulders, arms, and chest.

Daisy set the tray down, her heart beating against her ribs like a machine gun as Ken stepped closer. He stood right there in front of her on the mountaintop for a breath or two, smiling, looking her dead in the eye. She wanted that moment to last forever—just the two of them above the clouds with a beam of sunlight spotlighting them and them alone.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Her mouth went dry. She swallowed, hoping her voice sounded feminine and mature, not childish and tomboyish. Daisy no longer wore braces, and her teeth looked straight and white now. She remembered to smile before she spoke. “Ola, Ken.”

“So, the people in Honduras, they make these really incredible baskets. They make them out of all kinds of things like wicker, palm—heck—even pine needles. Anyway, they are really beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them. So, anyway, here.” He handed her the elaborately wrapped box with the perfect bow on top.

Daisy’s mind, body, and soul froze as she accepted the gift. She dared not hope. She dared not speak. She just spun on the mountaintop like Julie Andrews spinning her way across the Alps, and her mind swayed to glorious music as her skin felt hot and chilled all at once.

“Can you get that to