“No. I’m good. But thanks for the offer.”
He could feel her eyes as she peered up at him, a wide grin on her face. “You’re a cheap date, Rafe Sharpe.”
Not wanting to give her the impression he considered this a date, Rafe kept his gaze straight ahead, watching as the two people at the front of the line received their overpriced chips of frozen water and paid. There were several people between him and the truck, but at the pace they were setting, it shouldn’t be a long wait.
Rafe was still watching the couple at the front when the man turned around. A man Rafe hadn’t seen in nearly three years.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Ivy gripped his arm tightly. “What’s wrong?”
At that point, nothing was. At least not until Holt put his hand on his companion’s back and steered her away from the line. Only then did Rafe realize who he was there with.
Rafe narrowed his gaze on Holt and waited to see if he would look his way. When he did, he saw the instant recognition on the man’s face. Along with that wicked smirk he was famous for.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Holt said in that rich bass of his. “I thought it’d be harder to track you down. After all, you won’t take my calls.”
“Because you didn’t call me,” Rafe countered before he could stop himself.
Holt’s response was a slight lift of his left eyebrow.
Forcing his gaze away, Rafe looked at Bailey, waiting until she acknowledged him. When her eyes met his, he tried to mask his emotions but wasn’t sure he did so in time. Instantly she glanced at the woman still clinging to Rafe’s arm before her lips pursed tightly, and she looked at him again. He noticed the way her chin tipped up just slightly, as though she was refusing to accept that it bothered her that he was with another woman.
Not that he was with another woman. It merely looked that way.
Of course, he couldn’t very well tell her that. Not without drawing attention to the fact that Rafe had feelings for Bailey. The last thing he wanted was for Ivy to get it in her little head that she should play matchmaker while she was hunting for her own love interest. He wouldn’t put it past her.
“You know each other?” Bailey asked, glancing up at Holt.
“Friends from way back,” Holt answered, then shifted his cup of colored ice to the other hand and thrust his right hand in Rafe’s direction. “Good to see you.”
Because it would’ve been rude to refuse, Rafe returned the handshake and steeled himself for Holt’s touch. As had been the case the last time he’d seen the man, heat blasted through him as soon as their palms touched. His brain flashed memories of a long, hot night by the beach. Based on the gleam in Holt’s blue eyes, he was reliving that very same night.
Rafe forgot all about Ivy standing at his side until she squeezed his arm and cleared her throat.
Right. Manners.
Pulling his hand from Holt’s clutches, Rafe nodded his chin toward the man. “Ivy, meet Holt Callahan. Holt, this is Ivy. She’s a waitress at Moonshiners.”
Holt shook her free hand, but Ivy refused to let go of Rafe’s arm.
“Your name’s familiar,” Ivy noted. “Have we met before?”
“Not that I know of,” he said easily, as though it wasn’t every day that women were trying to figure out how they knew him.
It was, Rafe knew. Men and women alike heard his name and realized they’d heard it before. And if they weren’t avid readers, addicted to Holt’s bestselling novels, they’d likely seen him doing interviews for the television series that spawned from those books. Over the past three years, life had been good to Holt Callahan.
Not that Rafe was tracking his career.
Definitely not.
“I’m from Dallas,” Ivy explained. “Maybe you and I crossed paths up there?”
As soon as she was distracted by Holt, Rafe attempted to pull away, but Ivy clung more tightly, a move that had Bailey frowning.
It’s not what it looks like.
When Bailey’s eyes met his, he saw the hurt in them even though she quickly hid it.
