When I went back into the kitchen, Sean was polishing off the bag of chips. I grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge and handed him one. Somehow I had a feeling that my lunch would be a lot more fun than Gretchen’s.

Chapter 7

More snow, I thought as I was standing by the front door, looking out at Sean at the end of the driveway. Already this winter it had snowed more than last year, and it was still early January. Should I write a thank-you letter to Mother Nature? Or to the KARE-11 meteorologist who had forecast it the night before, giving me fair warning to get up early and be dressed this time?

Gretchen came up behind me as I was standing there, and nearly scared me to death. “Why don’t you see if he wants a hot chocolate?” she asked.

I nearly jumped. I had been so absorbed in thinking about Sean and what to do that I hadn’t even noticed her or heard her footsteps—or crutch steps. “What?”

“Well, it’s cold out there. I had to farm out the shoveling. But now that you’re here, I guess I can cancel it—I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“No!” I nearly cried. “Don’t fire him. I mean, uh, my arms—they’re not that strong. And what if we get one of those blizzards where it takes the entire morning to clear the drive—”

“You’ve really turned into a worrywart since I left home,” Gretchen interrupted my raving.

“What? Me? No,” I said.

“Well, then, if I didn’t know better, I could swear you have a crush.”

“No, I don’t,” I protested. “Still, out of the kindness of my heart, I will go make him a hot chocolate, I think.”

I put the teakettle on the stove to boil, and then I went upstairs and brushed my hair again, and pulled my favorite hat over it, positioning it just so. I stopped in the bathroom to brush a little blush onto my cheeks. Then, back downstairs in the kitchen, I stirred the hot chocolate in a plastic, commuter mug, tossed in some mini marshmallows, and snapped on the lid.

I took a deep breath, summoned my inner flirt, and went outside. I decided to sneak up on Sean. I’d decided the night before that it was time for me to make my move—if this was the New Year, New Kirsten thing, what was I waiting for? Besides, I needed to hook up with him soon if I was going to invite him to the cabin.

I quietly walked up behind him, and as he paused to rest the shovel for a second, I reached around and put my hands over his eyes. It wasn’t easy to do while I held a mug, believe me, but I managed.

“Guess who,” I whispered, leaning closer to him.

“What the—” He wriggled to turn around, but I had him kind of stuck.

“And guess what,” I said. “I made you hot chocolate!”

Suddenly he ducked, scooting out from under my arms. When he whirled around, his face expressing complete and total shock, I nearly fell over backward. “Who are you?” he asked.

“What are you here for?” I said. “You’re—not Sean.” It was the bakery guy. The Zublansky’s supermarket guy. The everywhere-I-go guy.

“Nope. I’m Sean’s brother.” He cleared his throat. “We have this mowing and shoveling business together. Not that it’s much of a business, I mean, it’s really part-time and it’s not like I plan to do it much longer—”

“You’re Sean’s brother,” I finally murmured.

“Yup.” He chipped at some ice on one square of the sidewalk, where melting ice always collected and re-froze because it wasn’t quite flat. “So, is that how you usually greet Sean when he comes over to shovel the sidewalk? A little hug, a little—”

“No!” I said emphatically. “No. Not at all. Never in fact.”

He gave me a suspicious look. “So what made today different?”

“I…well, see….” This was too impossible to explain and too stupid to lie about. I’m turning over a new, um, leaf? With your brother’s name on it? Ew.

“So if you don’t greet Sean that way, you must have known it was me, then,” he said.

“What? Shut up, I did not.” I shoved him, not realizing that he was on a slippery spot and he slid backward into one of the juniper bushes, nearly landing in it.

“You’re kind of a dangerous person, aren’t you?” he said as I backed away, apologizing.

As Conor was getting up, I started thinking how so many things made sense now that I knew they were brothers. Why I saw them both at the skating rink that day. Why I’d bumped into Sean outside the bakery—he was probably going to see Conor. So far I’d never really seen them both in the same place at the same time, except that first day at the lake.

They were this whole Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing. One was sweet and nice, the other gruff and insulting. And now that I knew it, I could see that of course they were brothers. They both had the same hazel eyes.

“You’re not like…twins or something. Are you?” I asked.

“Twins? Do we look like twins?” he asked.

“Well. You could be fraternal twins,” I said.

“No. We’re hardly even related.”

“Oh. You mean, you have different parents, or something?” I asked.

“No, we’re just not related. In my mind, anyway.” He smiled a little.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“My brother’s okay. I wouldn’t put him at the top of the family tree or anything.”

“Well, no, that would be awkward, that would mean he’s your great-grandfather.”

His eyebrows looked slightly pinched as he thought about that.

“Sean didn’t tell you about me? That I was staying here?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No.”

“Oh.”

“And he definitely didn’t tell me you were on a hugging basis,” Conor said.

“We’re…” We’re not, I was going to say, but that sounded stupid. Also, we were, some of time—at least we’d semi-hugged when we skated together. Why should I explain that to him, anyway?

But why hadn’t Sean mentioned me? Maybe they weren’t close. I didn’t see how they couldn’t be, though, considering they had to be like a year apart in age.

“You were saying?” Conor prompted as my voice trailed off, not finishing my sentence.

“Nothing. I mean, I’ve gone skating with Sean. Seen him at the rink. You know, like that.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t usually come over here.” He didn’t sound happy about the fact he had to see me. “I have the other side of the neighborhood.”

“Is that the good side or the bad side?” I asked.

He just looked at me for a second, as if he were making up his mind about that.

“Look. You want some hot chocolate or not?” I demanded. “‘Cause it’s getting cold.”

“No thanks,” he said. “Nice offer and all.” He raised his eyebrows, and I realized that I’d been a little rude.

“Sorry. I—I guess I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Yeah, I know how that is. Anyway, I have to get to the bakery pretty soon.”

“Ah. Yes. The bakery.” I nodded.

“You coming by later?” Conor asked, still using an ice pick to chip away the solid slippery spots. He was doing a much more thorough job than Sean had. Then again, I’d interrupted Sean with my pajama-streaking moment.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Kind of busy today.”

“Busy?” He looked up.

“Yeah. Lots to do. Tons,” I sighed. Like get over the fact I just tackled Sean’s brother.

“Yeah, writing those IMs can be draining,” he commented with a smile.

I couldn’t stand his smug attitude. “Actually, Sean and I might be going to the Mall of America,” I said.