A blush fills my cheeks when she winks at me. I’m not sure why her words embarrass me, but now I’m flustered. Maybe because the man knowsexactlywhat to eat in bed…and how.
Holt stands when I get close to the table and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. When he pulls back, he rubs his thumb across the same spot. “What did Marcie say to make you blush like that?”
“She was just teasing me.” I sit down to keep from making eye contact.
He sits across from me, a small smile tilting his mouth. “My secretary looked at me like I was crazy when I told her I had lunch plans. I usually eat at my desk, much to Beverly’s frustration. I thought she’d be happy for me, but she looked at me like I was about to go rob a bank.”
I snort. “She was probably pissed that you made plans without telling her first.”
“Oh, one hundred percent. She hates feeling like she’s out of the loop. There’s a group of women who hang out at theGrind on Sundays, gossiping as if they get paid to do it. Bev takes great pride in knowing the gossip before the rest of the crochet club, as they’ve dubbed themselves. They do more conspiring than actual crafts.”
“I love that so much. We have something similar back home, but we just call them what they are, gossiping hens.”
“If you really want to get a bead on the town, you need to follow thePine Creek Falls Newspage online. It’s less news and more updates on what everyone in town is up to. You and your friends were featured over the summer.”
“It’s not like…mean to people, is it?”
Holt shakes his head. “Nah. Most of the time, it’s general happenings that people might be interested in. They’ll post about food drives or fundraisers for families in need. Interspersed is a bit of gossip spreading around town. One of my best friends, Knox, was on there after he brought home Finn.” Holt’s grin is full of amusement. “They put a warning on the post that said, ‘Congratulate him at your own risk.’”
“Aw, poor Knox.”
“He was actually grateful for the post. People kept their distance, which is what he prefers, the prickly bastard.”
I crack up at that.
Marcie comes over, her smile wide. “Sorry for the wait, darlings. We are just so busy today.”
I frown at the half-filled tables in the room. It doesn’t seem that busy, but maybe she’s missing one of her regular servers. I’m not going to complain. It means Holt and I might get a decent amount of uninterrupted time to talk.
Holt and I order drinks and take a minute to scan the menu. They have cutesy names for their dishes that always feel like I’m chewing nails when I have to say them. They’re clever, I’ll give them that, but there’s no chance in hell I’ll be ordering the Purple People Eater. It’s technically just eggplant parmesan, but I’m not taking any chances they’ll make me say it.Although the one I want is called In Da Club, so it’s not a whole lot better.
“Y’all know what you want?” Marcie asks when she comes over with our drinks.
Holt asks for a burger and Beverly’s normal lunch order to go. Since he didn’t use the silly name, I feel way more comfortable asking for the club sandwich.
“Oh, shit.” Holt scrunches his face as if he’s in pain.
“What?”
“It just hit me that Marcie is also in the crochet club. I’m going to owe Beverly coffee for like a month.”
“Ooh. You’re gonna be in trouble.”
Holt narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t think I won’t turn you over my knee and spank that delicious ass of yours.”
A shiver slides down my spine. I raise my eyebrow, trying to cover my reaction to this stupidly potent man. “See what happens if you do.”
“I know exactly what would happen, Rainbow. And it’s not something I can say in public.”
Fuck, the look in Holt’s eyes is melting my insides like a bar of chocolate on a hot day.
“Here you go.” Marcie’s interruption startles me. Our food came out stupidly fast. “Y’all need anything else?”
“This is perfect. Thanks, Marcie.” Holt smiles at her, acting as if he’s not turned the hell on like I am.
“We still need to actually talk about what this is”—I wiggle a finger between the two of us—“before we jump back into bed together.”
“I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. It’s just…” Holt starts to fidget with one of his fries. “I forgot what it’s like to feel like a man—justa man. I’ve been holding onto the grieving widower label for so long that I stopped thinking of myself as anything else. Even being a dad came in second place to the grief. Then this colorful woman threatened to throat punchme, and I suddenly remembered that I’m allowed to have more than one label.”
