I huffed. “Can’t argue there.”
We fell silent, the sounds around us filling the quiet. Our feet on the floor, the distant music, some horses shifting and sighing in their stalls. Without my permission, one of my hands slid to the small of Hollie’s back, pushing her closer. She moved in like she’d been waiting for my cue, her head coming to rest against my collar bone, the bristles on my chin catching the top of her hair.
She smelled so good. I leaned down, taking a big greedy inhale of her.
And she must’ve realized exactly what I’d done because she turned her face into my neck and did the same, her nose making contact with my flesh. Her chest expanded as it filled and my body reflexively squeezed her.
Every single second of this was brand new territory. The only woman who had ever stepped foot in my life was Laurel. I’d never dated or wanted anyone besides her.
And now I couldn’t deny reality.
I wanted Hollie.
I wanted to kiss her and hold her. I wanted to explore whatever it was we had—whatever this kinship and familiarity was. She felt like someone I’d known forever and I’d be damned before I let her leave without at least trying to figure out why.
“Hollie.” My voice pulled tight, and I swallowed against the need pressurizing in my chest.
She didn’t lift her head. “Yes?” she whispered.
“I want to ask you something.” I tried to still the way my breaths had gone sideways, erratic. “I think I already know the answer, but the fact I’m just now bringing it up is embarrassing. Uh, the thoughts I’m having…I just…” I was butchering this. “I just need you to confirm.”
She stiffened, but still didn’t move. “Confirm what?”
“That you’re single.”
Our sway never faltered as our bodies moved in sync like nodding wheat in a warm June breeze. But as her silence stretched, my heart sunk in my chest.
“I’m single, Jesse. But…
I held my breath, afraid to hope.
“My situation is far from straightforward.”
I blinked. “You’re not married?”
Again, a pause. “No. I’m not.”
My body slacked with relief, but I continued our dance, confused on how that knowledge changed a thing. It didn’t. She’d still be leaving early tomorrow morning. The only thing her singleness soothed was my conscience. “What about their father?”
Another long silence ensued—she was weighing her words. I wondered why. Finally, she answered, “We co-parent.”
“You’re divorced?”
Again, she paused. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” I said it on instinct, but I didn’t mean it.
In the following quiet, my questions piled sky high. But I let them be. Right now, I had all the answers I needed.
Her right hand slipped down, coming to rest on my sternum.
Surely she felt my heart trying to come out of my chest.
She whispered, “Why are you asking?”
A chuckle rumbled up my throat. She had to be joking.
“What’s so funny?”
