The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (6)

Alina nudged her and giggled. “You look awfully guilty. Did something happen? Has he finally told you how he feels?”

Katya let out a shaky breath. Alina didn’t know that Pavlo had kissed her. But suddenly her sister’s words resonated, and Katya turned to stare at Alina. “Wait, what do you mean? How does he feel about me?”

“Oh, please! Everyone knows about you two.” Alina laughed over her shoulder as she flitted away toward Kolya’s arms.

“Knows what?” Katya’s question trailed off. Was Alina speculating or had Pavlo talked to her? With a guilty glance around, she made her escape from the stifling crowd. Away from the throngs of people, she gulped deep breaths of the sweet night air.

How had she gotten to this point? A year ago, she’d have collapsed in laughter at the idea of her and Pavlo together in this way. Yet here she was, thinking again about the moment last week that had changed everything.

She’d run across the field to Pavlo’s farm to see if they had a few extra eggs for Mama, who was baking a dessert for the wedding. Pavlo’s parents had walked down to the village, and Kolya was over at Katya’s house with Alina, so it was Pavlo who opened the door, shirtless and toweling off his hair.

Katya rolled her eyes at his appearance. “Don’t you put on clothes before you answer the door?”

His movements, long and languid like a confident tomcat, complemented his typical, relaxed manner, and he grinned. “I was washing up. I had a mishap with a runaway piglet. He bested me in a mud pile, and I ripped my shirt.”

She snorted back a laugh. “Oh, I wish I’d seen that.”

His eyes narrowed, and he tossed down the towel. “I bet you do. Well, what brings you here?”

Katya tamped down her smile. “Oh, don’t be so sensitive, Pavlo. Mama needs two eggs and we’re out.”

“We’ll have to check the henhouse. I ate all of the eggs this morning.”

“Fine. I’ll check it on my way home.”

“I’ll come along.” He moved toward her.

She took a step back. “Don’t you want to put on your shirt?”

“I’ll do it later,” he said with a shrug.

She arched an eyebrow at him, then turned on her heel and marched off toward the coop. He shortened his pace to match hers but remained silent.

She glanced at him as they stepped inside. “Something wrong?” She reached under a hen sitting in a nest box. The hen gave a startled cluck, and Katya shushed it.

“No,” he said, his voice tight.

Even as a small boy, he’d never been able to keep anything from her, and curious at his odd mood, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she placed two eggs into her pocket. She handed him two more, which he set on top of the nest box before turning back to stare at her.

“What? Do I have hay in my hair?” She smoothed her unruly braid. “I was helping my father put it up earlier.”

“Your hair looks perfect.” His words were husky and low.

Katya’s heart gave an unexpected lurch. Her tongue, suddenly fat and useless in her mouth, couldn’t function. “Thanks for the eggs,” she finally managed to say and stepped past him toward the path to her house.

Her grand exit failed when her foot sank into a hole, and she stumbled. Pavlo dove forward and caught her against his bare chest. She looked up, her face inches from his, and he stilled, holding her there, pressed against him. She could see every thick, honey-colored eyelash framing his bright hazel eyes and the splash of freckles scattered on his nose. Everything around her faded away as, for the first time, she really saw him, and her stomach somersaulted. Heat from his body scorched her hands and, now very aware of their close proximity, she scrambled to push him away. His arms tightened around her waist for one brief moment, as if he was reluctant to let her go. He leaned forward and put his lips against her ear, and the soft touch made the hair on the back of her neck snap to attention.

“You’re going to need more eggs,” he whispered.

Her breath, which she’d been inexplicably holding, came in a sudden gasp. What was he talking about? And what had she expected him to whisper in her ear? Then, as her upper leg registered the damp of the wet yolks from the broken eggs in her pocket, he moved his lips to her cheek and kissed her.

If he hadn’t still been holding her close, she would have fallen over again, though she’d never admit that to him.

He pulled back with a confident smile, and she did the only thing she could think to do. She slapped him.

“What are you playing at, Pavlo?” Confusion clouded her mind, but anger simmered at the surface. Who did he think he was to kiss her without asking?

Still smiling, he touched the bright red handprint on his cheek. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Katya. Think on it. Sort out your feelings. I’ve decided what I want. You let me know when you know what you want.” He leaned over, picked up the two extra eggs, and placed them in her shaking hands.

She took them, her body tingling from its contact with him, and ran home.

Since that day, she’d replayed the scene in her mind over and over. Had he planned it? What did he mean he’d decided what he wanted? What did she really want, now that he’d ruined their easy friendship?

Whatever happened moving forward, that kiss couldn’t be forgotten.