Page 36 of Pieces Of You

I wave off the idea with a flick of my wrist. “Oh, I’m sure he’s busy,” I tell her, at the same time she says, “He’s out in my Wesley’s workshop.”

Holden is exactlywhere Esme said he’d be, standing in front of Wesley’s workbench with three large containers set out in front of him, each one containing some form of clear liquid. In workout shorts and a loose gray tank that shows off his large arms and solid chest, he looks like… like it shouldn’t matter how he looks.

Still unaware of my existence, he inspects the shears in his hands, rusted beyond repair, before dumping it in one container and moving to the next tool, and I realize I’m staring.Shit. Finally finding my voice, I manage a “Hey.”

His focus snaps to me standing in the doorway, sweating twice as much as I was on the walk here. I hadn’t expected to see him, and it’s the last thing I want.

Maybe.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes trailing me from head to toe, and it’s only now I realize that I’m not dressed the way he usually sees me. I swipe my palms along my simple summer dress, just as he says, “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to visit for a little.” He nods at that, then goes back to the tools, and I shift on my feet, telling him, “Esme’s making lunch. She asked me to get you.”

It’sawkward. For me, at least. I don’t know how he feels, but going by the way he drops the tools, silently moves toward me, and thenaroundme, I suspect he feels the same.

All we did was share amoment; I remind myself. A single, insignificant moment, and then I made it worse by revealing a cryptic piece of my past—pathetic—and now he’s here and seeing me might be the last thinghewants.

Maybe.

If he wants to act as if it never happened, then good.

Great, even.

“So you just came here tovisit,” Holden says skeptically, peering over his shoulder at me. He slows his steps, waiting for me to catch up with him.

I offer a shrug. “I brought some cakes and—”

“Did you bring that lemon—” My nod cuts him off. “Did you know I was going to be here?”

“No. Whatareyou doing here?”

He shrugs, holding the back door open for me. “I came to fix some tools we’ll need to… wait—you really didn’t know I was here?”

“Not a clue,” I say, releasing a disbelieving snort before I can stop it. “As if I’d come because of you.”

He smirks, leans in closer. And I really should’ve known what was coming before he even opens his mouth. “Give it time, Trudy. We’vebarelyeven kissed.”

18

Jamie

Holden won’t stop staring,and I… can’t stop staring back. But there’s something different in the way he’s looking at me. Gone is the emptiness that once lived in his eyes, now replaced with heat so intense I can feel the warmth of it pumping through my veins.

I wish Esme were here as a buffer, but I’m shit out of luck. She had a friend from church drop by unannounced and ask if she wanted to go to bingo. Holden and I were so happy and proud that Esme had found the courage to put herself out there and make friends that we rushed to get her ready and practically pushed her out the door of her own house. After we waved her goodbye from her front porch, Holden helped me clean the kitchen, and I helped him lock up the workshop—tasks that took all of ten minutes—and now we’re here, standing poolside, staring at each other, completely wordless.

I know we should talk about what happened. It’s the mature thing to do… I can’t keep avoiding, and he’s obviously done with pretending. But I don’twantto. In fact, I’d rather stick forks through my eyeballs. “Well, see ya!” I finally break the stare and start marching toward the side gate. I make it two steps before Holden grasps my messenger bag by the strap, tugging it loose from my shoulder until it falls to the ground. I look up, eyebrows bunched. “What the fu—” That’s all I can get out before his arms are around my waist, and I’m flying through the air,squealing, arms and legs flailing until I’m surrounded by nothing but cool water.

My feet hit the bottom of the pool, and I almost kick off and come to the surface. But then I hear him laughing—like a jackass—and now I’m pissed. So, I make a show of coming up for air, waving my arms some more. “Holden!” I gasp, slapping the water’s surface with open palms. “I can’t swim!” I duck under the water again, flapping my limbs around aimlessly. I’m still beneath the surface when he curses, and I smile when I see how swiftly he kicks off his shoes, removes his tank top, and empties his pockets before diving in.

I come up for air, and now I’m the one laughing—alsolike a jackass—especially when his head pops up, eyes searching. “That’s what you get!” I laugh out, splashing water in his face.

His eyes narrow… right before that wicked smirk of his makes an appearance. “You better run, Regina.”

A restrained squeal erupts from my throat, and I turn toward the pool edge, and start swimming for it. But I forgot Holden is anathlete, and I’ve barely ever been in a pool. He catches up to me effortlessly, his hands going to my waist again. He spins me in his arms until we’re chest to chest, his eyes right on mine. Flecks of emerald spark against the raging sun, and he walks us to the pool wall. With one arm snaked around my middle, he rests the other on the smooth brick border, and says, “Hi.” And then he smiles—and that smile is a spark, a flicker of light on the darkness inside me.

I both love and loathe it.

Icannotbe crushing on Holden Eastwood. That would be ludicrous. And dangerous. Andfun. I push that last thought aside, my voice barely audible when I say, “Hi.” And then my treacherous little hands find their way up to his bare shoulders.

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