Page 14 of Off the Beaten Path

User6872is Holden. My Holden—myneighborHolden. The one who drives me crazy and calls the cops when I prank him and who has apparentlyseen me nakedand has never once actually smiled at me for a reason other than mischief.Heis my friend, the one I look forward to talking to each night, who I have to force myself not to message throughout the day so he doesn’t think I’m trying to come onto him.

The surprise starts to dissolve into something warmer. A pleasure that feels like sunshine after days of rain. “Iknewyou weren’t as grumpy as you pretend to be,” I say, shoving his shoulder with the palm of my hand. It’s more firm than I expected, and he doesn’t even budge, his giant body completely unmoved by me.

He’s quiet, something I’ve grown familiar with, but this silence feels different because his gaze is traveling the length of my body as if he’s never seen me before. Everywhere his eyes rove over feels like I spent too much time out in the sun, my skin going pink.

Hazel eyes, that I’m just now discovering are flecked with varying shades of greens and golds, catch my gaze and hold. For some reason, the breath stalls in my lungs.

“No,” he says simply, definitively. With a flick of his wrist, he motions at Matty that he wants another drink, no longer focused on me at all.

I blink slowly, only realizing after a lengthy pause that my mouth is hanging open. “What do you meanno?”

Matty returns with my wine and Holden’s beer, glancing between us as if he can feel the tension radiating off us in waves. He doesn’t say anything, just leaves with a dip of his chin. I’d be worried Myra and Melissa would be spreading this tale through town in the morning, but if there’s anyone in Fontana Ridge who can keep a secret, it’s the local bartender.

“Sorry, that was rude of me,” Holden says, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he takes a sip of his drink, the long column throat working as he swallows. After he sets his glass back on the counter, he swivels to face me, his knees bumping into mine. “No,thank you.”

He says this with a sticky-sweet tone and follows it with a closed-lip smile that has me seeing red. I plunk down onto the stool next to him. “You don’t just get to say no, thank you. You can’t just decide that I’m not the person you’ve been talking to for the last four months, Holden.”

His broad shoulders lift in a shrug, straining at the fabric of his flannel. And that dismissive gesture is what sends me over the edge.

I’m not sure what’s going through my mind as I grab him by the collar of his shirt and tug him forward. I do know that he has to allow it, giving into my pull, or else I’d never be able to make him budge.

Tugging until we’re nose to nose, I say through gritted teeth, “We’re friends, whether you like it or not. You can drop the act now.” My voice lowers, going smooth as silk. “I know you’re really just a big softie inside.”

And then I pat him on the chest, right where my fist was a moment before. His gaze tracks the movement before returning to mine. This close, I can see every color in his irises, every freckle dotting the strong line of his nose, but everything beyond him is a blur, like adjusting the focus on a camera until the subject is in view.

It’s only because my hand is still on his chest that I can feel him swallow, only because he’s so close that I can see the way his gaze dips for just a second before returning to my eyes. I wonder if we’re close enough that he can feel my skin heat. If he can feel my shudder as a zip of electricity runs up the length of my spine.

“Hi, Holden.” A woman’s voice pierces through the fog surrounding us, and Holden and I spring away from each other. I swear I can still feel the soft cotton of his flannel on my palm like it’s been imprinted there.

Charlotte Danbury is standing directly behind Holden, a pinched smile on her face, and when he swivels in her direction, his knees tangle with mine. Charlotte tracks the movement, her eyes narrowing into slits.

“Charlotte,” Holden fairly croaks, and I look between the two of them, trying to figure out the cause of the thick tension in the air. “Nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too,” Charlotte says, but she’s not looking at Holden. Her dark brown eyes are fixed squarely on me, and I get the feeling she’s trying to read the situation she walked into the same way I am.

Turning back to Holden, she asks, “So what are you two up to tonight?”

Holden opens his mouth to respond, but the opportunity to get him back for the shower incident dangles in front of me, and I decide to snatch it.

“Holden asked for my help picking up women.”

The look Holden gives me is sharp enough to cut glass. Or my throat. Which I can perfectly imagine him doing when Charlotte leaves us alone.

Charlotte looks to Holden, a more genuine, almost hungry smile lighting up her face. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have any trouble in that department.”

“You wouldn’t think,” I say and pat his thigh. It stiffens under my touch. He’s tense enough to explode with one wrong movement. “But he’s surprisingly bad with women. No charisma.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Charlotte’s voice drops to something lower and huskier, and a thrill of excitement shoots through me. I decide to press my advantage.

“You know,” I say. “Holden was just telling me that there was one woman in town he’s been wanting to ask out, but he didn’t know how. Holden, who was—”

“Excuse us,” Holden says through clenched teeth, fairly launching out of his barstool. His hand binds around my upper arm, tugging me with him in the direction of the bathrooms.

I glance at Charlotte over my shoulder and toss her a wink. “Men, right?”

She giggles, something high pitched that I know has to grate on Holden’s nerves, and I make a mental note to double down on my efforts to make him take her on a date, just so I can go to the same place and watch.

Holden pulls me into the dim hallway leading to the bathroom and spins me so my back is to the wall. This close, he towers over me. His eyes are lit with an angry flame that burns so hot I can practically feel it singeing my skin.

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