Indie frowned but nodded.
She moved through the crowd again, the heels of her boots clicking against asphalt. When she reached her car, she searched her back seat for the spare she kept there.
Crap, where was it? She always kept a spare sweater in here. Hell, she usually had half her wardrobe in her back seat.
Then she remembered…the big cleanout last week.
Damn her spontaneous need to clean.
She straightened and turned—only to scream at the sudden sight of a large chest right in front of her.
“Whoa, Clara, it’s me.”
“Holden?” Air whooshed out of her. “Jesus freaking Christ, if hearts could jump out of bodies, mine would be on the ground.”
His lips didn’t so much as twitch. “Sorry. I didn’t like you being out here by yourself.”
“Unless a grizzly bear makes his way into town, I’d say I’m pretty safe in Amber Ridge.”
“You can never be too safe.”
Despite the cool evening air, warmth crept up her throat. He’d always been protective. From her brothers, she’d found it smothering, but with Holden, she felt a mixture of nervousness and comfort.
“I’m okay. Just sticky.” Sticky? Jesus, she was always so awkward in front of him. “And unfortunately, I don’t have a spare sweater, because clean Clara decided to take the spare out of the car.”
“Here.” He pulled his hooded sweatshirt over his head and handed it to her.
“No.” No, no, no. She could not take that. It would smell like him, and thenshe’dsmell like him, and she’d be so distracted when she finally drove home that she’d probably crash her car. “You’ll be cold.”
“I’ll survive.”
“I’m not—”
“Please.” He held it out. “It will make me feel better. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Her lips curved. “Well, if it’s for you…”
“It is.”
She took it from his hand, their fingers grazing and a tingle running up her arm. He turned to give her privacy.
Thoughtful. She could add that to the list of perfect things about him.
She switched the wet cropped sweater for his oversized hoodie…then he was everywhere. His scent. His warmth. It surrounded her.
“Thank you.”
He turned back to her and frowned. “Where’s your necklace?”
She absently touched her bare chest, where her amethyst necklace used to sit. It had been a gift to herself after chemo. The gem signified growth and transformation.
“I went bungee jumping in the Crooked River Gorge in Oregon last month. I forgot to take it off before I jumped.” Stupid.
His brows flickered. He didn’t say it but she could tell he didn’t approve. No one did. Any time she did anything remotely dangerous, she had a million voices in her ear.
“I’m sorry.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s just a stone.”
