“Well.” Those pursed lips softened into a partial smile, intrigue glinting in eyes a shade lighter than her own. Her mother leaned in for another of thoseBeautiful-scented hugs spiced with a kiss on her cheek. “Let me know once you talk to him.”
“I will.” She reciprocated with a kiss of her own and turned, looking for him, as her mama walked away. She didn’t have to look far because he closed the distance between them with that easy, loping stride of his. Swallowing hard, she moistened her lips. “Hey.”
“Mama wanted me to come for dinner.” Hands jammed in his pockets again, blazer tails flared over his elbows, he shrugged. “Told her I had to talk to you first.”
The synchronicity of that tickled her, a smile tugging at her lips despite the uncommunicative nature of his expression. “Colt, I’m sorry about–”
“Holly.” He glanced around, mouth twisted. “Not here, okay? It’s not the place. Now, I’m hungry because I overslept and missed breakfast, so what do you want to do about lunch?”
Relief coursed through her, making her eyes prickle. “Colton.”
“Don’t you dare cry.” A hint of horror dawned in his eyes. “Come on, seriously . . . what do you want to eat?”
She passed a fingertip under each eye, blinking rapidly. “Let’s just go to your mama’s.”
His eyes widened with now full-blown horror. “Are you kidding me?”
“I am not.” She poked his belly. “Are you ashamed to take me home?”
“No, but do you know what that will start?”
“Probably the same thing as me telling–”
“My, not me.”
“--my mama I needed to talk to you before I could make a decision about lunch.” She stared up at those gorgeous eyes — and really, how could his eyes be so much prettier than Tick’s when they were the same shape and color, had the same thick fringe of dark lashes? She had never found herself wanting to gaze into Tick’s like this, picking out a stray fleck of hazel. Plus, she was so darned relieved the tension from earlier had drained away or at least lessened. “We might as well tell them we’re seeing each other.”
“She’s gonna be awful.” He tugged his phone from his pocket and tapped out a text. “I’m just telling you.”
“Like Mona will be any better.” Holly made a dismissive noise in her throat. Actually, she didn’t know how her mother would take this. She’d had her hopes pinned on Tick as a son-in-law for so long. Who knew what her reaction would be to Colt’s presence in Holly’s life?
“Remember later I warned you.” He tucked the device away. The foyer had emptied out, except for the pastors and their wives, a few other stragglers, murmured conversations hanging in the still air.
“You make her sound like a dragon or something.” Shaking her head, she tucked her bag more securely on her shoulder and moved toward the door. Sunlight and cool air washed over her when she pushed it open. “It’sSue.”
“Have you experienced Sue on a mission?” Even with him behind her, she knew his mouth twisted. “She’s gonna be all over you and me together.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” The memory of Lenora’s reticence toward Caitlin rose again. Those weeks — okay, months — had been awful, Holly feeling guilty simply for existing.
His low chuckle, kind of humorless, warmed her anyway. A few small groups hovered in the parking lot, chatting, and she headed for his truck.
“You don’t want to meet me there?” He spoke behind her, not quite at her side.
“No.” She didn’t glance over her shoulder, eyes on the gleaming white F-150. “You can run me back for my car later. This way we can talk in the truck.”
If she didn’t know him, she might think she’d imagined that “great” muttered under his breath.
She waited after he unlocked the truck, knowing he’d open the passenger door for her. “Thank you.”
The sun streaming through the windshield warmed the cab, and she sank into the seat with relief. The wind remained chilly outside despite the sunlight and clear sky, and while her sweater dress was cute, it wasn’t the warmest thing she owned. The breeze kind of cut through the waffle knit.
Behind the wheel, he latched his seatbelt and fired the engine. His chest rose and fell on a breath, and he rested a wrist on the steering wheel, fingers fanned. “Listen, about earlier—”
“I am sorry.” She cringed, aware the nonverbal exchange and its intensity bothered him, maybe even hurt him.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He shrugged and reached for the gearshift. “It’s new to me, the idea of you and him—”
“Can we please not put it that way?”
