Holly was soft and warm and perfect in my arms and kissing her felt like something I’d been waiting to do without realizing it. She tasted like the peppermint tea she’d been drinking, andwhen her hands fisted in my sweater and pulled me closer, I thought I might actually lose my mind.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, and Holly’s cheeks were flushed in the most beautiful way.
“So,” I said, resting my forehead against hers, “I’m taking that as a yes to the relationship question?”
Her eyes clouded over, and she stepped back. My heart plummeted. I’d moved too soon, and now she was pulling away.
“We should probably get back,” she murmured.
“Probably,” I agreed, but I made no move to step away from her. “Though I’m significantly less interested in extension cord management than I was twenty minutes ago.”
“Focus, Hayes,” Holly said with mock sternness, somehow pushing aside what we just shared to… move on. “We have a festival to coordinate.”
“Right. Festival coordination.” I picked up the box of extension cords and tried not to let my hurt feelings show. She was clearly not ready, so I had to wait.
“With significant romantic subplot development,” Holly added, adjusting her ponytail and smoothing her sweater.
Her comment made me pause and rethink everything I had thought was going on.
“I prefer to think of it as enhanced partnership dynamics,” I said, following her toward the storage room door.
“You really are a lawyer,” Holly said with amusement. “Everything has to be a euphemism.”
“Not everything,” I said, catching her hand before she could open the door. “Holly?”
“Yeah?”
“I meant what I said. About this not being casual. When,if, you’re ready.”
She simply nodded as we emerged from the storage room to find Mr. Bennett waiting with a bigger pair of step ladders.
Twelve
HOLLY
Coffee Dates and Complications
I pausedat my bedroom window, which overlooked the Hayes house, just as I was planning to go to bed, thinking I was seeing things. But when I turned to peer out, I frowned. A huge sign in the window opposite mine, surrounded by colorful fairy lights and written on white poster card, was the word COFFEE with a ? at the end.
“What the fuck are you doing, you idiot?” I grit out.
I stared at the ridiculous sign for a full thirty seconds, my brain trying to process what I was looking at. Declan Hayes—successful Manhattan lawyer, sophisticated adult human being—had apparently created a poster board invitation and hung it in a bedroom window like we were teenagers passing notes in study hall.
The worst part? It was actually kind of adorable.
I grabbed my phone and texted him:Are you twelve years old?
Nothing came back. He was either ignoring me, or his phone was on silent. Or both.
Pursing my lips, I watched as the sign slowly turned around to reveal the word, PLEASE? with a smiley face drawn underneath.
This was insane. We were adults. Adults who had kissed in a storage closet three hours ago and then spent the rest of the afternoon pretending it hadn’t happened while we hung Christmas garlands and lights with perfectly professional efficiency. Adults who should probably have a mature conversation about what that kiss meant and where we went from here. Declan’s confessions in the closet were not the go-ahead I needed to trust he wasn’t just having some fun for the holidays. Smooth-talking men told you what you wanted to hear. God only knew I fell for it with Derek the Dick.
I should pull the drapes shut and ignore him.
Instead, I found myself digging through my desk drawer for a piece of paper.
YES, I wrote in large letters, adding my own question mark underneath. I held it up to the window.
