Page 73 of Off the Beaten Path

“June Bug, how about you go inside and tell Grandma and Finley we’ll be in there in just a minute?” I say, desperate for a moment alone with Wren without Mia’s shadow hanging over us.

June’s arms tighten around Wren’s neck, enough to cut off her breath, one last time before she lets go and scampers inside, her little braids thumping against her back as she runs.

“Her braids look good,” Wren says, her tone a little wistful, and my heart warms at the softness on her face as she watches my daughter. I think she’s smitten. I just hope she’s as smitten with me as she is with June. I know I’m a goner, that once suffocating four letter word desperately clawing to come out any time I’m in her presence.

The minute June disappears through the side door, I cross the distance between us, gathering Wren in my arms. She makes a softhmphof surprise against my chest, but her hands don’t hesitate to smooth up the planes of my back. It feels good to hold her.

“I missed you,” I whisper into the curly mess of her hair, damp from when she must have run from her house to her car.

I can feel her soft chuckle. “I saw you every day.”

“It was different,” I say, and she nods into my chest. “I don’t want you to back off when Mia is here, especially if she keeps her word and starts coming around more.”

Wren pulls back, her soft blue eyes meeting mine. There’s a hesitancy there, almost a hopefulness. “You don’t?”

My hands come around her neck, thumbs gliding against the smooth skin of her jaw. I want to press my lips there, feel her soften against me like she does when it’s late at night and we have to be quiet so we don’t wake June. “No, I always want you around, Red. You belong with me and June. Always.”

“Oh,” she says, more of a breath puffing out against my lips than an actual word, and something inside me snaps at the feel of it. At that moment, I can’t take not kissing her. I just have to hope June and my mom and sister aren’t at the windows watching us. Right now, I don’t even know if I care.

“Wren,” I sigh, giving into the magnetic pull and pressing my lips to hers.

She responds immediately, her hands fisting in the collar of my flannel and tugging me closer. A groan rumbles in the back of my throat, and she smiles against it. Actually smiles. I love how much she smiles for me. I’ll have all her smiles for the rest of time if she’ll let me.

When I swipe my tongue along the seam of her lips, begging for entrance, she stops smiling, melting against me just like I knew she would. She tastes sweet, like strawberries and whipped cream, and I remember her excitedly telling me at the cabin the other day that some of the strawberry crop came early at the farm this year.

My every nerve stands on end as her hand slips into the collar of my shirt, stopping over my heart that’s beating just for her. I wonder if she knows it, if hers is beating for me too.

I pull her tighter against me, wanting to feel her everywhere, and she gasps against my mouth. I could hear that little gasp in my ear for the rest of time and never tire of it. That little gasp is giving me all kinds of ideas about blowing off family dinner and dragging her home where we can be alone.

“Holden,” Wren says, pulling back. Her lips are kiss-swollen, cheeks burned from my beard. She looks completely disheveled, and there’s a primal surge of satisfaction in my chest knowing I’m the one who did that to her. “Your phone is vibrating.”

“How do you know it’s my phone?” I ask, smirking, and she shoves my chest, trying not to smile. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I see Grey’s name on the screen. “It’s just Grey.”

“Answer it.”

“I’d really rather be doing something else.”

She sighs. “Holden.”

“Fine, fine,” I grumble and slide open the call. “This better be important, Grey.”

He sounds out of breath, and I think he’s running. My nerves go on high alert. “It is.”

“Where are you? Are you on your way to dinner?”

“I’m on shift tonight. There’s a fire, Holden.”

My heart stops in my chest. “Where?”

“Wren’s cabin.”

Thetruckissilentexcept for the sounds of the heavily pounding rain and the furiously swiping windshield wipers. My heart is in my throat and my hands are squeezed so tightly in my lap that my knuckles are white and popping.

A fire. At my cabin. The cabin I’ve spent my entire savings and the last few months of my life working tirelessly to get ready for guests that will be here intwo weeks. I managed to get the cabin listed on the town rental websites and booked up even though the renovations weren’t finished, and now I’m regretting that, because I’ll have to refund if I cancel their stays, and I’ve already used that income to put toward the last of the renovation expenses.

My mind is a swirl of thoughts, coming so quickly that I can’t pause to find a solution to any of them before the next problem surges to the forefront.

Holden’s eyes slice toward me. “Wren, breathe.”

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