Page 26 of Off the Beaten Path

Guilt pricks at me. “I’m sorry, Holden.”

He stares at me for a long moment, looking a little surprised, his full lips parted and a sigh escaping between them. “It’s fine. Let’s look at flooring samples.”

He moves down the aisle in quick strides, purpose written in every line of his body. I follow him to another part of the store and stop beside him, leaving plenty of space between us.

Holden is quiet as he examines the flooring samples, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, fingers flexing on his bicep where his arms are crossed. He has the kind of quiet, settled energy I’ve always envied, if not a gruffness that makes me see red. My mind never seems to stop, even when I wish it would, but Holden’s mind always seems to be calm and quiet, at least when he’s not barking at me.

“These look good,” Holden says, pointing to a sample. “They’re good quality. I’ve installed them before.”

I don’t bother looking at the sample after seeing the price sticker. “No, thanks.”

Holden’s eyes slant in my direction, his jaw flexing again. He has to hurt his teeth with how often he does that. “Why not?”

I match his stance, arms crossed over my chest. “I don’t like it.”

“You didn’t even look at it,” he counters.

He’s got me there, but I don’t feel like explaining to him that I dug in my couch cushions for spare change to buy a drink at the gas station last night since it wasn’t in my newly revamped monthly budget.

When I don’t respond, he blows out a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. “Is this about what I said?”

I blink, not tracking. “What?”

Warmth creeps up his neck, coloring his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at me. I marvel at uncovering a new layer to Holden Blankenship, here in the hardware store of all places. Sheepish embarrassment looks good on him.

A low sigh escapes him. “Listen, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“What?”

The bell above the front door chimes, and a second later, a female voice follows. “Hey, Oliver.”

Holden’s eyes snap to mine, and it takes me only a moment to recognize the voice. Charlotte is here after all.

This time, I don’t have to reach for Holden, because he’s already moving toward me, his palm landing on the shelf above my head. Suddenly, he’s everywhere, so close that everything around him blurs.

His voice is soft, a rasp I can feel more than see when he says, “Is this okay?”

I realize that the scene a moment ago could have been avoided if I’d asked that simple little question. The thing is, I’m not sure how to answer. I should be annoyed with him this close, in my personal space, but instead, I feel it like a tug deep in my stomach, the shiver of a fingertip against skin.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I finally answer, hoping he doesn’t notice the breathlessness of my voice.

My body jolts when his free hand settles on my hip, heavy and warm, even through the thick layers of my sweater. “And this?”

If I’m not mistaken, his voice sounds huskier too, his eyes slipping into a deeper shade of hazel. I don’t trust my voice, so I settle for a nod.

He mirrors the movement, his eyes lingering in the oddest places—the line of my jaw, the tip of my nose, the exposed curve of my ear where my hair is tucked behind it, the swell of my bottom lip.

“Is this unprofessional?” I ask him.

His gaze trips back up to meet mine. “Not yet.” My heart stutters when one corner of his mouth kicks up. “There’s been no necking.” As quickly as it arrived, the smile disappears, his eyes going serious. “I’m sorry for snapping earlier.”

My shoulder lifts in a shrug, brushing against his chest. “It’s fine. I should have asked first.”

He holds my gaze for so long that everything else goes hazy, only his eyes staying in focus. “You don’t have to ask to touch me, Wren.”

“Oh.” A female voice startles us apart, and we look to the end of the aisle to see Charlotte. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Holden’s hand flexes on my hip before he releases me. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

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