Page 5 of Holding Holly

I want more, too. Need more. I can already feel it surging through my body like a wave of energy.

James already makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Stepping into the circle of his arms, I hold him close. Too close to mean anything other thanI really like you. Nobody holds a new friend like this. I bury my face in his wide, firm chest, feeling the wall of muscle. Breathing him in, there’s a subtle pine scent, mixed with something else…maybe coconut-based soap?...that’s as sweet as he is.

I feel rather than hear the subtle sigh as his large palm runs down my spine. “You’re lovely, Holly,” he murmurs across the top of my hair. “Looking forward to tonight so much.”

One more quick squeeze, then he’s gone…and I already feel strangely alone. As if he’s the thing that my life has always been missing.

And now that I’ve had a taste of it, I can’t go back to how it was before.

3

JAMES

I’m guessing it will be pretty quiet tonight at Jim’s Pizza, one of the few restaurants in Old Hemlock Valley. With Christmas just a week away, many people are away visiting family. Still, just to be sure I stop by and make a reservation with Bianca, letting it slip that this is a special night.

By the time I tap lightly on the door of the Austins’ house, I’m actually kind of…not nervous, exactly. Excited. For the potential of a real date. A real relationship. But before I start writing our life story, I should probably see if Holly is even vaguely on the same page. Or in the same section of the library.

She opens the door, and I step back, clutching my heart dramatically.Damn.

Her luscious subtle curves are wrapped in a form-fitting navy dress, over thick, practical winter tights. She’s added a cheery red silk scarf, and a smudge of navy eyeshadow that makes her hazel eyes pop. Her hair is done up in another casual twist, but now a few spiral tendrils fall to frame her glowing face.

She’s breathtaking. More importantly, her dressing up tells me that she’s eager for this to be a real date. I’m extremely glad that I wore a nice charcoal button-down shirt, with black dress pants.

She laughs at my theatrics, grabbing her coat and following me to the truck. This time I’m abundantly clear that helping her up into the truck is an excuse to touch her everywhere I can – politely, of course. Her soft giggle is doing things to me that I’ve never felt before.

It’s a short drive into town. Just before we turn onto Lizbeth Street, I coast to a stop in front of the Benjamin house.

“Oh my goodness…” Holly breathes, staring at the wall of golden glittering lights. There are a few small Christmas trees in front with a bit of red, and the large one next to their front door is red, green, and gold.

“It gets bigger every year. Someday it’s going to rival Holly Valley’s Walk of Lights.”

Holly turns with an adorable smile. “The Walk of Lights is a festival to go through with friends and take photos. I think this is more like a hidden neighborhood gem.”

Reaching out, I take her hand. “Maybe…something to experience with just one person?”

Her lashes flutter slightly as she nods shyly. “Yeah. I guess that’s what I mean.”

When we arrive at Jim’s, she looks around the restaurant with a wide smile. It’s a lovely little pizza joint, with a giant side patio that has become the summer social hangout spot. Indoors is more of a traditional Italian restaurant vibe. “Cozy,” she murmurs, heading for a table by the window next to the only other couple here.

Grabbing her elbow, I guide her the other way, toward the back corner booth. It’s the only table with candles and flowers.

Her head whips toward me. “What’s all this?”

Taking her arm, I pull out her chair, help her into her seat, and flick her napkin into her lap with a flourish. “A fancy dinner that’s not really a fancy dinner?”

My heart swells every time she laughs. Not swelling. More like…twinkling. Flashing. Man, I’ve been looking at too many Christmas lights this week.

We order two different kinds of pasta so that we can share, plus a pizza slice to split as an appetizer. “They have cheesy breadsticks with marinara sauce, but why not just call it what it is and have pizza?” I chuckle.

“Good call.”

Just like on the drive, our conversation flows easily. Holly shares more about her candle-making, and how she loves doing craft fairs – not just for the money, she explains, but to see the other vendors’ creative expression too.

I tell her a bit more about the town, how it’s pretty self-sufficient, since there are so many mountain men around these parts.

“I could see that,” Holly nods. “The do-it-yourself types.”

“Exactly. Even disputes are usually dealt with without any outside help.”

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