Page 57 of Off the Beaten Path

Beside me, June giggles, bright and loud, and I want to bottle the sound up and keep it for bad days. Holden’s knee finds mine beneath the table, pressing against me until my focus narrows down to that one point of contact.

“Syrup,” I finally say, hoping neither of them notices that I sound a little more breathless than before.

I expect Holden to move his knee away when he slides the syrup in my direction, but he keeps it there, pressed up against mine, as we eat our breakfast, June and I munching on stacks of chocolate chip pancakes and a small helping of eggs, Holden choosing eggs and no pancakes.

It feels remarkably easy, like a seamless fit, at least for me, and every bit of me wants to know what’s going on in Holden’s head. He’s stoic, although I catch that twist of his lips beneath his beard, see the sparkle in his eyes as he watches me with June. But he keeps his knee against mine, and when he finishes his breakfast and pushes his plate away, his hand wraps around my knee, warm and big and making every nerve in my body come to life.

“Can I go outside?” June asks the second she finishes her pancakes. I have a feeling it’s not the first time she’s asked this morning.

Holden nods in the direction of her room. “Socks, shoes, and coat.”

Her chair squeaks against the wood floor as she bounds out of it, scrambling down the hall to her room. The second she’s out of eyesight, Holden releases my knee. I’m momentarily distraught at the loss of contact, but then his hand finds mine on top of the table.

Goose bumps prick along my skin as his calloused fingers smooth over the inside of my wrist, spinning the bracelet around until the letters are on the inside, resting against my pulse point.

“She was really sweet to make this for me,” I tell Holden, that tender feeling swelling inside me as I remember the way she focused so intently on it. I don’t know how I’ve earned her attention or admiration, but I’m grateful for it, nonetheless.

Holden’s eyes meet mine, sending a bolt of fire down my spine. “She likes you,” he says. I don’t miss the huskiness of his voice, the way he sounds a little surprised but not unhappy about this development.

I nod, trying to focus on his words and the look in his eyes rather than the feeling of his skin on mine. “I like her,” I say simply.

June comes bounding down the hall once more, and Holden pulls his hand away slowly, almost as if he doesn’t want to let go.

“I’m ready,” she yells in the way all kids are unable to speak at a regular volume.

Holden lets out an aggrieved sigh that I know isn’t real because of the twitch of his beard. It really makes me wonder how often that same sigh he’s given me hasn’t been genuine, how often he was smiling at me when I didn’t know it.

I know something now—I want all his hidden smiles.

“Put your plate in the sink, June Bug,” Holden says, pushing up from his seat with his own plate. He snags mine before I can get it, and my heart stutters when he winks. “Guests don’t have to clean, at least not the first time.”

I want to ask if this means I’ll be invited back next Saturday. I should probably be alarmed at how desperately I want that after such a short amount of time. It can’t be healthy how attached I’m growing after two kisses with Holden and one night hanging out with June. But I can’t bring myself to care.

Maybe I’ll make a fool out of myself and beg to be a part of their lives. It feels worth it.

The clatter of dishes dropping into the sink pulls me out of my thoughts, and I push up from the table, following Holden and June to the back door. I didn’t bring a jacket, and when Holden realizes this, he pulls one of his off the hook beside the door and drapes it over my shoulders. It’s huge and deliciously warm and smells so much like him that I have to tell myself not to snuggle inside and sniff deeply.

I’m probably going to take it home with me, though.

June yanks the door open, running out onto the back porch and down the wooden stairs to the fenced-in yard. In the summer, they’re outside almost every night, and I’ve often seen Holden lounging in one of the Adirondack chairs, a glass of something amber and most likely expensive in his hand. He’s always looked peaceful out here on this back deck in a way that intrigued me, made me want to venture across the yard separating us and see if he’d let me into his little haven.

And this morning, he does, slipping his hand into mine and leading me to the two chairs facing the backyard. I feel his gaze heavy on me as we settle, the cold wood seeping through my pants. But I feel warm under his perusal, my skin heating in all the places his eyes linger.

When I finally give in, letting my eyes drift to meet his, there’s a warmth in his stare that feels like sitting too close to a fire but not wanting to move away from the flames.

“So, I was thinking,” he says slowly.

My gaze snags on the way his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. I can’t help but remember the way it felt sliding against my own last night and wonder when I’ll get to experience that again.

“We should go on a date.”

“A date?”

Holden Blankenship doesn’t seem like the dating kind. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he just kept inviting me to Saturday morning breakfasts or occasional movie nights on the couch with June until I’d fallen so madly in love with him that I couldn’t see straight.

I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep myself intact on adate.If I want him this badly after long days working at the cabin or stolen moments when June isn’t around, I don’t know what I’ll do with his full attention fixed on me for an entire night. Just thinking about it makes goose bumps prickle along my skin and something warm and liquid settle in my stomach.

“In two weeks,” Holden says.

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