Page 5 of Dare to Hold
I laugh, caught off guard. “It’s Ivy.”
He repeats it slowly, as if trying it on. “Ivy.”
My name has never sounded like that before.
We turn the corner, and a coffee shop comes into view—tucked between a narrow bookstore and a flower shop spilling color onto the sidewalk. Twinkle lights drape lazily across the awning, and window boxes overflow with blooms, petals brushing the glass as if they’re leaning toward the sunlight.
The air is a heady mix of espresso and roses, warm and sweet—like a memory I’ll want to keep.
Even with our hands linked, he walks close enough that I can feel the heat of him, every step syncing with mine. It’s ridiculous how a simple touch can make my pulse trip over itself.
I sneak a glance up at him. He’s watching the street ahead like he owns it—like the crowd parts because he’s here.
“You’re quiet,” he says suddenly, voice low, certain.
I shrug, pretending his nearness isn’t short-circuiting my brain. “I’m just…taking it all in.”
One corner of his mouth tips up. “Taking me in, you mean?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Wow. Modest, aren’t you?”
“Not modest,” he says, eyes flicking down to mine for half a beat. “Just observant.” His gaze drops to our joined hands. “Like the way you haven’t let go.”
“I told you—stability,” I counter, tightening my grip just to prove a point.
“Uh-huh.” His tone says he doesn’t buy it. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ivy.”
The way he says my name—it’s not casual. It’s deliberate. Weighted. My stomach flips.
“What?” I ask, my voice barely above the hum of the saxophone.
His lips twitch as if he’s holding something back. “Nothing.” He holds my gaze for one breath too long before looking ahead again.
We reach the door, and he steps forward to hold it open.
“After you, Ivy.”
The way he says it, it feels like a promise.
As I step inside, I can’t help but wonder if this moment is the beginning of everything I never saw coming.
Chapter 2
Ivy
The scent of espresso and buttery pastries hits me the second we step inside the coffee shop. It’s cozy, all warm wood tones and the low hum of indie music. A chalkboard menu hangs above the counter, and an array of eclectic seating fills the space. It reminds me of my favorite coffee shop back home.
Gray pauses beside me, scanning the room with a thoughtful hum before heading toward a small table in the corner. He pulls out a chair and gives me a quick smile. “Ladies first.”
I blink at him. “Chivalry? In the wild?”
He grins, and something in me unwinds a little. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”
I sit as he takes the seat across from me. Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could handle him sitting next to me, not with how my brain short-circuits every time he moves.
“So,” he says, folding his hands on the table, “are you always this nervous around guys who you randomly approach on the sidewalk, or am I just special?”
My jaw drops. “I am not nervous.”
