Page 25 of Off the Beaten Path

I shake my head. “You and I have very different ideas of fun.”

“I’m going stir crazy,” she says with a shrug. Her dark brown eyes meet mine, lighting up. “So what’s this about Holden taking over the cabin renovation?”

After the night at Matty’s, I caved and told Stevie about the dating app anduser6872. I’m not really sure why I kept it to myself before, but I think what I had with him felt so unexpectedly precious to me that I didn’t want to ruin it with comments about how he could be a murderer or an old man. And surprisingly, I’m actually happy with who it turned out to be, although I’ll never tell Holden that.

I shrug and tug on the sleeves of my sweater until they’re covering my hands. “I was kind of falling apart after Jimmy had to back out, and Holden offered.”

Stevie’s eyes narrow. “And you don’t find that odd?”

“I find it very odd,” I say, but a small part of me is questioning the validity of the statement. Yes, it felt out of character forHoldento offer to helpme, but it’s not something I would have doubteduser6872would do forLikeStrawberryWine. Thinking about the two of us now, so intricately intertwined, makes my head spin and an odd sensation stir deep in my chest.

“So did him agreeing to work on the cabin come before or after he told the whole town you’re dating?”

“Before,” I tell her with a roll of my eyes. “Enough about me. What’s new with you? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”

Winter is usually when we have the most time to spend together, but with the cabin renovation and everything that has entailed, we’ve barely been able to make time to spend together. I miss our cozy movie nights on my old corduroy sofa in the cottage or making some kind of decadent treat in her tiny Airstream kitchen at one in the morning.

She shrugs. “Nothing really. I joined a book club.”

This takes me by surprise. “You don’t even like reading.” I have books stacked on every available surface in my cottage, and the most Stevie has interacted with them is when she moves them out of the way so she can find somewhere to sit.

“Seemed fun,” she says, and takes a sip of her coffee, the steam curling in front of her face. “Alicia Bennington started it because she said she heard about some women in Illinois who used romance books to show them what men should be acting like so they could stop settling for douchebags.”

A smile touches my lips. “So that’s what you’re trying to do, then?”

“No,” she says over the rim of her mug. “But I did think it might be a fun distraction in the offseason.” Leaning forward, she scans the café before focusing on me again. Her voice lowers to a whisper. “You would not believe some of the things in these books, Wren.”

A laugh barks out of me, drawing the attention of the three other patrons in the café. “Ah, Stevie, you’re just getting started.”

“Neutral colors would be more marketable,” Holden says, his brows wrinkled as he stares at the paint chips in my hands. Every color of the rainbow is represented, plus some. Shades of sunshine yellow, sea-foam green, pale lilac, cornflower blue, and cherry red.

I glare up at him. He’s wearing another one of his many flannels today, his hair tugged back in a loose bun at the base of his skull. There’s a piece of glitter on his eyebrow, and I’ve decided not to tell him about it.

“I bet your entire house is shades of neutral.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, jaw ticking beneath his beard. “And if it is?”

“That’s so like you,” I say.

His eyes sharpen, turning a glittering topaz. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re boring.”

Holden opens his mouth to reply, but then Oliver, the hardware store owner, walks by our aisle and winks in our direction. “The lovebirds.”

My free hand falls on Holden’s bicep, and when I lean into him, I can feel the muscle twitch beneath my palm. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come back here two minutes ago, Oliver,” I say cheekily, and I can hear Holden’s faint groan in the back of his throat. He’s going to take a bat to my Christmas lights tonight for that one.

Oliver’s chuckle follows him down the aisles, leaving us alone once more. Holden shrugs off my hand, and I step back, putting space between us. The glare he gives me sends a jolt of pleasure up my spine. There’s a certain thrill in making him a little crazy like this.

“What was that?” There’s a sharpness in his tone that hasn’t been directed at me in weeks.

“We’re supposed to be dating, remember?”

His eyes flash, jaw tightening. “You made me look unprofessional. I have to come here for work, Wren.”

I give him a flat look. “Jimmy put up fliers on the board by the register promoting his bachelorette party dancing services when I was a kid. I don’t think Oliver is going to be offended about us necking in the paint aisle.”

“Enough with the necking, Wren.” He practically yells this, and for the first time, I realize he’s serious. That me touching him and making comments about us without checking with him first made him uncomfortable.

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