Page 181 of Holding On To Good

From his blank look, she had her answer.

He hadn’t asked her.

He tugged on his left ear, the same nervous habit he’d had since they were kids. “She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

If that didn’t sum Urban Jennings up to a T, nothing did.

Stubborn. Patient.

And a bit too complacent.

Willow grabbed her phone to send a quick text inviting Verity to dinner sometime next week and realized it’d been over a month since she’d last texted the teen. That the last time she’d seen Verity had been weeks ago at Ian’s ballgame. That was also the last time she’d seen or talked to Miles or Toby.

We don’t talk anymore.

Urban was right. Again.

In her single-minded desperation to keep what was happening between them a secret, something small and contained, she’d once again stepped back from the rest of his family.

And in that single-mindedness, she’d stepped back from Urban, too. Not asking how his family was. Not telling him anything about hers. Forcing things between them into two separate camps: Professional and sexual. So that when their fling ended, their friendship would be protected.

In the meantime, she’d pushed that friendship aside.

She sent the text then set her phone on the counter. Walked over to Urban and rose onto her toes to kiss his cheek.

When she settled back on her heels, his hands went to her waist, as if keeping her near.

But she wasn’t going anywhere.

A point she proved by linking her hands behind his neck. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his soft, solemn tone matching hers. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Thank you for staying.”

They stayed that way for several long moments, breathing each other in, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt to stroke the curve of her waist. Her fingers tangling in his hair.

She wanted to apologize, but she couldn’t put into words what she was feeling. Knew if she tried, she might say too much.

When it came to Urban, she’d always been a coward.

A liar.

And she didn’t know how to change either one.

Willow’s breath washed across Urban’s throat on a soft sigh and she edged closer. He slid his arms around her back, keeping them under the loose hem of her shirt, and tightened his hold. Kissed the top of her head.

A sense of contentment washed over him and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. “Do you want another glass of wine?”

She shook her head.

Leaving one hand pressed against her lower back, just under the waistband of her pants, he trailed the fingers of his other hand up the bumps of her spine to the strap of her bra. “Coffee?”

Another shake of her head before she lifted it. She cupped his face. “You know I care about you,” she said, soft and hesitant, as if admitting even that much cost her. “Right?”

He took his hands out from under her shirt. If this was a declaration, it lacked in several areas.

Originality being one of them.

But it was also the truth. One he’d always known.

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