“Full-time,” he confirmed.
That was … Bailey wasn’t sure what that was. She’d never met an author before. Well, besides Jack but he was a graphic novelist. It wasn’t the same thing. Right?
“And you’re basing a book on Coyote Ridge?”
“A series, actually.”
“What’s it about?”
“I’ve started an outline, although I use that word loosely. It’s more like notes on a page, but I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”
Smiling, Bailey returned to her task of taking the food into the dining room and setting it up on the warming stands. Holt followed.
“Wait.”
Holt abruptly stopped.
Bailey chuckled. “Sorry. I didn’t actually mean for you to…” She gestured toward his legs. “I meant … anyway. You’re an author.”
He nodded, then glanced at the kitchen. “I think we had this conversation a few minutes ago.”
She laughed, then shook her head. “What I mean to say is … do you think that’s why Ivy recognized your name? Because you’re an author.”
“More than likely.”
Well, that made more sense. Bailey had gone to bed last night wondering if Holt knew Ivy. If maybe they’d once been…
She shook off the thought. Nope. She wasn’t going there.
“Can I get you anything?” Bailey offered when Holt took a seat at the large dining room table with only his coffee mug.
“Thank you, but no.” He held up his coffee mug. “This is the extent of breakfast for me. At least this early in the morning.”
“Well, if you change your mind…”
Bailey started for the kitchen but stopped when Holt reached for her arm, his long fingers gently circling her wrist. She glanced at the point where he was touching her, then up to his face, praying he didn’t see what that slight touch did to her. Fireworks were igniting in her womb, and she was sure parts of her body—like her toes and fingers—had gone numb to accommodate the rush of sensation to other parts.
“Last night was memorable,” he said softly, his blue eyes glittering with sincerity.
Her mind flashed an image of Holt and Rafe pinning her between them. She erased it, but not before her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
“I hope we can do it again sometime.”
She met his stare. “They have music in the park every Friday in—”
“I wasn’t talking about the concert, Bailey.”
“Oh.”
His grin widened.
“I’d like that too,” she admitted before she even realized she was going to.
A creak sounded above them, and Bailey pulled away. More guests were coming down, and she certainly didn’t want to give the impression she was neglecting her duties.
As she slipped into the kitchen, she felt Holt’s eyes on her, a fact Bailey liked far more than she was willing to admit.
***
