Yeah, he wasn’t touching that, either. Holly seemed content to let the topic go, singing along with Mariah Carey. They chatted a little during the remainder of the drive, about Polo and Ralph and anything new either of them knew about their mutual acquaintances.
Moultrie’s tall white courthouse loomed over the square, holiday lights strung about the surrounding block but not lit yet. Colt slotted the truck into a spot in front of the courthouse and jogged around to open Holly’s door. Her boots crunched on the asphalt, and she brushed her fringe away from her eyes, appreciative gaze bouncing around the square.
“I love this town.” She hugged herself, smiling. “I cannot wait for Thanksgiving when they turn the lights on.”
“Yeah, it’s really pretty.” He let his gaze linger on her face.
“I’m really starving.” Pausing at the rear of his truck, she scanned the street then started across. Colt shortened his stride to hers, almost but not quite letting his hand rest at the small of her back. He caught the door as a couple exited The Square, holding it while Holly stopped short with that slight clumsiness of hers, her shoulders brushing his chest.
“Hey, welcome to The Square.” The hostess, who had to still be in high school, gave them a toothy smile and glanced between them. “Just two?”
Colt nodded, and she snagged a couple of menus, motioning for them to follow. He nudged Holly ahead of him, focusing his gaze on her braid between her shoulder blades when he looked at her. Low jazz unfolded about them, not the live music of the weekend, but still a great playlist enclosing the low conversation in private bubbles.
“Here you go.” The hostess paused at one of the tables along the side wall, with an emerald velvet settee against the dark wood paneling and a pair of ivory padded chairs across the varnished tabletop. She plopped the menus on the settee side. “Teresa will be your server and she’ll be right with you.”
“Thanks.” As Holly slid onto the settee, he reached for a menu, intending to take one of the chairs.
“Sit down.” Blowing her fringe out of her eyes with an exasperated breath, Holly pointed at the loveseat next to her.
“You’re bossy.”
“Yes.” She flipped her menu open as he settled next to her. An arm along the sofa back to give them both room, he studied his own menu. He didn’t get over here often, but the farm-to-table offerings were always great.
She shifted, thigh pressed to his from knee to hip, and he cleared his throat. “What sounds good?”
“Mmm.” She fiddled with the end of her braid. “Let’s get burrata for an appetizer. I know you want the steak.”
“Not necessarily.” Yep, that was Gene coming out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he grinned. “Yeah, I’m getting the New York strip.”
With that knowing half-eye-roll, she smiled and ran a finger down the offerings. “I want the stuffed pasta.”
He’d always appreciated how easy she made everything, and he relaxed into the velvet upholstery as Haley arrived to pour iced water and take their order. For the first time, he let the initial fear of being called into Herb’s office bleed out of him, chasing a swallow of water with a long exhale.
Holly’s lips tipped upward, and she squeezed his knee. “There you go.”
He slanted a sidelong glance at her, askance. “I am not one of those animals you calm down in the office.”
“No, but thinking you were getting fired wound you tight.” She rattled the ice in her glass, squeezing his knee with her other hand. “I’m glad you’re relaxing.”
“Uh, thinking you’re getting fired would wind anybody tight.” He lifted his glass in a salute.
“Truth.” She was silent a moment before she exploded into speech, the way she always had when they were working on a reading for Mr. Davis. “Okay, exactlywhydid you think you were getting fired?”
“I don’t know.” He spread his hands, askance, lowering his voice as Teresa settled the burrata before them. “Because.”
“Because.” Holly gave him that you’re-not-making-sense look, a narrow-eyed expression, and broke the outer skin ofmozzarella. Beside him, she melted like the inner layer of shredded mozzarella and cream. “Oh, my Lord, this is the best.”
She smeared melted cheese on a piece of bread and took a bite, eyes closed in pleasure, a small moan of ecstasy purring in her throat. Colt shifted, twitching his coattail over his lap the best he could. Holy Jesus help him.
Dabbing at the corner of her lip with her tongue, she smiled at him. “You shouldn’t miss out on this.”
“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he reached for a gulp of iced water before he grabbed a piece of bread.
“Because why?” She loaded up his bread, then her own.
He swallowed a groan. “Holly.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me, Colton.”
