“What?” she shouted back.
Simon glanced at Holt, grinning as the man stared at the doorway, anticipating the arrival of the woman he was clearly head over heels for.
“Come here,” Holt answered, his tone firm, calm.
Very much the opposite of Bailey at the moment. Whenever Simon had seen her, at least for the past two days, she’d been running around like her ass was on fire. From the bits and pieces he’d picked up, she was responsible for taking care of the out-of-town guests coming in for the upcoming wedding. While he saw nothing wrong with anything in the place, he apparently didn’t understand what went into taking care of that many people at once.
He’d also managed to pick up enough information to know that the upcoming nuptials were between Brantley Walker, one of Violet’s many cousins, and Reese Tavoularis, a native of the small town. And by means of deduction, the wedding was not this weekend but the next.
Bailey appeared in the doorway, her hand on her hip. “What?”
Holt laughed, then gestured her over by crooking his fingers.
Simon watched, wondering if it would work.
Well, whaddya know. It did.
Bailey approached him slowly. Like one might approach a rabid dog.
As soon as she was within reach, Holt curled his hand around her wrist and pulled her in, shifting his book to the side table so he could pull her into his lap.
Simon immediately looked away the same way he had whenever those two got cozy. Which, frankly, was quite often. More so than Simon had expected. What was even weirder was the couple of times he’d been nearby when Bailey and Rafe shared a stolen moment. The first time, he’d been shocked. The second time, he’d been shocked. The third time—perhaps because Holt had been there that time—he’d realized he had no idea what it was like to be a throuple.
Nor could he fathom being in one. To each his own and all that, but Simon was far too possessive to share his partner with anyone else. It seemed to be working for them and, from what Simon had heard, several others in town, too.
Still, it was a little weird, but not for reasons pertaining to how many people were in the relationship. It was just that the Holt Callahan that Simon knew wasn’t the sort to settle down.
They’d been friends for several years, having met when Holt reached out to ask questions about one of Simon’s podcasts. At first, he hadn’t been sure what to think of the guy. Turned out, their introduction had changed Simon’s entire life. He actually had Holt to thank for much of his success. The man was single-handedly responsible for boosting his podcast’s downloads. Thanks to Holt’s frequent mentions ofHavoc Your Way, Simon had become an overnight sensation. In the past five years, his audience had multiplied twentyfold—twice—and his downloads and ratings had soared.
It had been unexpected, to say the least. More so, his fondness for the guy. Holt Callahan was what Violet would definitely call a nice guy. He looked out for the people in his life, putting everyone else first. It was the very reason Simon hadn’t batted an eye when Holt asked him to come to Coyote Ridgeand look into what Holt insisted was a potential goldmine for an investigative journalist.
As for the story, Simon wasn’t sure there really was one, but he would do just about anything to help Holt out, so here he was.
A timer sounded from the other room, causing Bailey to jump to her feet. Simon grinned to himself as Holt watched her scurry out of the room.
“You like her, huh?” Simon teased his friend.
Holt laughed. “More than a little, yeah.”
“You thinkin’ about marryin’ her?”
“Both of ’em,” he said with a wink.
Yep, the guy was a goner.
Simon’s phone buzzed in his hand, his gaze darting to the screen. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been anticipating Violet’s message. Probably because he was expecting her to ghost him.
— I’d like to find out how not nice you are. Come over, Simon.
Simon stared at his phone. His first instinct was to jump to his feet and race out the door. Ever since he walked away from Violet, he’d been eager to see her again. It hadn’t yet been an hour since he left the diner, yet it felt like an eternity.
That kiss.
The way Violet surrendered so perfectly had nearly knocked him off his feet. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d kissed a woman who hadn’t fought to dominate him. Not to say thosekisses had been bad. They hadn’t. But nothing compared to the sweet surrender and the underlying eagerness of Violet’s kiss.
Would she surrender like that in bed?
“Only one way to find out,” he said under his breath as he got to his feet.
