Page 13 of Off the Beaten Path

It had been that way with Mia at first. I ran smack into her in a crowded bar in the city, my mind a mess with all the sounds and smells and voices clambering over one another. My drink spilled across her shirt, and before I could think about what I was doing, I was reaching for her to try and dry it up. It only took a moment to realize where my hands had landed, and by then, I was stumbling over my apology and bumping into other people as I tried to back away. But when I looked at her face, she was smiling. And I knew right then that I was a goner.

I knew even then that my life was taking a sharp turn in another direction. I just never expected this is where I’d end up.

The front door to the bar opens, and snow blows in on a gust of wind a moment before I see curly strawberry blond hair and smiling pink cheeks. This time there’s no one to laugh at me as I groan into my beer.

Stevie Lynch walks in behind Wren, her dark hair piled atop her head, little wisps falling out to frame her face. They’re laughing at something, and I can’t help but notice howhappyWren looks. She’s always wearing an expression of mischievous glee or barely contained hostility around me, or, for the first time, earlier today at the overlook, flustered embarrassment. I shouldn’t have been so pleased to see her like that, but she’s always getting under my skin, and I feel like I’ve never been able to turn the tables on her.

Who knew all I had to do was admit I’ve seen her ass because she can’t figure out blinds?

Wren’s eyes land on me, and the smile slides right off her cold-kissed face. An annoyed look enters her eyes and she pins me with it. Surprisingly, this makesmesmile, just a faint twitch of my lips, but I know she catches it when her gaze gets even stonier.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as she and Stevie settle into one of the ripped red leather booths on the other side of the bar, the warm golden lights sending shadows over their skin. Wren looks even paler next to Stevie’s tan, her freckles standing out in stark contrast like constellations over every exposed inch.

I’m not sure why I keep watching as they duck their heads and talk among themselves, but for some reason, my eyes keep drifting in that direction, focusing on red-gold ringlets catching in the overhead light. It’s why I notice when Wren stands up, gaze fixed on me, and walks in my direction.

My heart ratchets up in my chest, beating loud enough that I can hear it in my ears, feel it in the tips of my fingers where they rest on the sweating glass. I probably shouldn’t have admitted I’ve seen her naked. I can only imagine what she’s going to do to get me back for that accident. I’ll probably come home to hundreds of packages on my front porch and those giant Christmas lights hanging from my rafters.

“Holden,” Wren says, sidling up next to me, her elbows landing on the bar top.

“Wrennifer.”

Her nose wrinkles as she considers me, and my lips twitch again, straining to smile. Warmth gathers somewhere low in my stomach when her eyes track the movement. I push the feeling away, downing the rest of my beer.

Setting the glass on the counter, I ask, “Are you following me? This is the second time I’ve run into you today.”

Her sigh is so exasperated that I want to laugh. She places her folded hands on the bar, swiveling to face me. “Yes, Holden. I’m following you because it’s my deepest desire to make you fall madly in love with me and bear your children.”

I stare at her, unblinking, and she rolls her eyes.

“No, Holden, I’m not following you. I’m only into men with hunchbacks and disfigured toes. You’re much too proportional for my tastes.”

My world narrows down to just Wren as she waves at Matty, who has been talking to someone on the other side of the bar. I barely hear his voice as he shuffles over, mouth stretched in his signature friendly smile.

No, I’m focused entirely on what Wren just said. On whatWrensaid. Wren and notLikeStrawberryWine.

“What did you just say?” I ask. My voice sounds strangled even to my own ears, because surely,surelythis is a coincidence.

Wren flashes me a puzzled look, brows pinched together, full lips pursed. “What?”

“What did you say?” I ask again, enunciating more clearly this time.

Matty is now giving me the same look as Wren. I want to assure him that I’m not going crazy or suffering some kind of medical event. It’s just that my world has been flipped upside down, and I’m walking on the ceiling, wondering why everyone else is still down on the ground.

Wren’s gaze swings between Matty and me, her face painted in confusion. If you looked the word up in the dictionary, her current expression would be right beside it. “I told Matty I wanted strawberry wine.”

And that’s the moment I know I wasn’t confused, but I have made a mistake.

“Strawberrywine,”Holdensaysfrom beside me, sounding strangled.

My gaze drifts over him—long nearly black hair pulled into a messy bun, flannel sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos I’ve secretly always wanted to examine up close, hazel eyes blown wide in shock.

I nod, not sure why he looks so spooked. “Strawberry wine. It’s wine, but strawberry.” I say this slowly, emphasizing the words like I’m talking to a toddler.

He just stares at me with that blank stare. Then, so low I almost don’t hear him, he murmurs, “Like strawberry wine.”

Realization clicks into place, and I blink at him, no doubt sporting the same confused look he is. Holden can’t be…

Although now that I think about it, it makes so much sense. The grumpiness. The interfering sister. The absolute abhorrence for dating.

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