I step back and pull my damp hair over one shoulder. “I guess the mountain air agrees with me.” I spin to face Holt, who’s pretending to be busy with something butlooks up as soon as I turn. “Don’t you think?”
He grunts in response. “Maybe I should stay here a bit longer.” I look back at Dad.
Again, Holt smothers his choke with a cough, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I have to admit, messing with him is kind of fun.
But it’s my dad who comments. “Here? Kiddo, you’d last a week.”
“Oh, please,” I say, stepping further into the kitchen like I own it. “I’ve been thriving here.” I reach past Holt into the fridge, brushing my chest against his arm. He stiffens with the brief touch. “Haven’t I, Holt?” I ask with an innocent flutter of my lashes.
He shoots me a warning look.
I ignore it, grab the cream from the top shelf, and step back. “Actually,” I continue sweetly, “Holt’s been taking very good care of me.”
Dad pulls out a chair at the table and sits. “I know he has. I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
Holt’s jaw tightens a little. I can’t help myself. I push.
“So, what’s for breakfast?” I ask, hoppingup on the counter just like I would have the day before, swinging my legs.
“You’re hungry?” Holt doesn’t look at me when he asks.
“I’m always hungry,” I say lightly. “You know that.”
My dad coughs. “You two seem like you got to know each other pretty well.”
“No.”
“We did.”
Both Holt and I respond at the same time, and Dad looks between us, confusion lining his face.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “I have a car full of groceries, kiddo. Why don’t we give Holt his space? I’ll take you home?”
Home.
I’ve never even been to my father’s cabin, but in only a few short days, Holt’s cabindoesfeel like home.
“That’s a good idea,” Holt says before I can recover. “I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Of course.” Dad stands and shoves the chair back under the table. “We’ve imposed on you long enough. Go grab your things, Tessa, and we’ll let Holt get back to his life.”
His life.Is that what he wants to get back to? His life?Without me?
I stare at him a beat longer than I probably should, willing him to turn to me and tell me not to go. To pull me into his arms and tell me that he doesn’t want me to go. That he wants me to stay right here, in his cabin with him, where finally both of us feel more ourselves than we have in years.
Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest, takes a step back, and says, “Good idea. You’ll want to spend as much time with her before she leaves.”
“Leaves?”
Dammit.
“Tessa? Are you going somewhere?”
I growl under my breath and try to catch Holt’s eye to glare at him, but he’s purposely focused on my father.
“Oh yeah,” Holt says casually. “Tessa has big plans to go traveling,” he continues, and I’m about ready to murder him. This isnothow I wanted to tell him. Holt knows that.
“Is that right?” My father looks at me with a tilt of his head. “Sounds like we have lots to talk about, kiddo.”
