In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes: Chapter 11

“I AM LOVING the vibe in here,” Sadie said, bobbing her head to the nineties music.

The Rusty Bucket, a dive bar in the nearest town to Queen’s Cove, was packed for Juicy Taco night. String lights stretching above us faded into different colors every minute and the servers wore pink wigs.

Across the table, Sadie wore a short, hot pink dress with a green palm print. Her ponytail swayed as she glanced around the bar with big, bright eyes.

She leaned in, smiling at me with a sneaky expression while she took another sip of her margarita.

“Alright, talk to me, Holden. Who’s catching your eye?”

I had been to this bar before, because Div did drag shows here once a month, and Hannah invited me once. It was fun. I had fun.

Sadie didn’t know this was a gay bar, though. Sadie didn’t realize the women at ladies’ night at a gay bar had no interest in me.

Her, though. With that silky hair, a cute dress that skimmed her curves, and glowing, welcoming smile, she was like a beacon. Every time I glanced around, someone was eyeing her.

I didn’t blame them.

Sadie Waters had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Sunday night, I had walked into the bar, hoping to zone out, watch sports highlights, and shoot the shit with Olivia, but she was there, striding around in those jeans that fit her ass perfectly and a big smile for everyone.

My chest pitched at the idea of seeing her every day, and my curiosity was at an all-time high. She needed money, badly, and I wanted to know why. If she was in trouble—

If she was in trouble, what, Holden? What are you going to do? You’re nothing to her. You’re paying her to find you a wife, and that’s it.

Sadie lowered her voice and tilted her head to a table next to us. “What about her? In the black sweater.” She widened her eyes at me in emphasis. “She’s checking you out,” she sang.

The woman in the black sweater eyed Sadie with shy appreciation. A funny pressure bubbled up in my chest and my mouth twitched but I covered it by taking a pull of my beer.

I shrugged at Sadie. “She’s fine, I guess.”

She gave me a scolding look but her eyes danced. “You’re not even looking around. You’re looking at me. Come on, grumpy guy. Where’s that wife-hunting spirit?”

I narrowed my eyes. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

She winced and nodded. “It sounds weird no matter how I say it, because it is a little weird.” She wrenched around to her bag and pulled out her phone. “Time for the fun interview.”

“Oh, joy,” I muttered, which made her smile.

“Question one. What kind of woman do you see yourself with?”

I blew another long breath out. Fuck if I knew. “I don’t know.” I raked my hand through my hair. “Somebody who has their own career and passions.”

She lit up. “Great. That rules out all the sugar babies who want to use you for sex and money.”

I choked on my beer and she handed me a few napkins.

“That also rules out Belinda the Inflatable Sex Goddess,” she admitted with a teasing grin. “I’ll break the news to her. What else?”

“Um.” I glanced around the bar. Women were still eyeing Sadie. “Somebody who doesn’t talk much.”

She snorted. “I’m not writing that down. What else?”

I pictured a woman in my home. “It would be nice if she liked to spend time in the kitchen.”

Sadie’s eyebrow rose.

“Not in a serving her husband way.” I was fucking this all up. This just reinforced her view that I was an asshole. “It would be nice to be with someone who likes to cook, because I can’t.” I swallowed more beer. “But I’m happy to clean up after.”

She made a note on her phone. “Good save.”

I let out a half-laugh. “Thanks.”

I thought about Hannah and Wyatt. “Someone who wants kids.”

She nodded and wrote it down.

“Someone from here, or someone who plans to stay here for a while.”

Sadie’s gaze flicked up with a question behind her eyes.

“I don’t want to move. My business is here, my home and family are here, and I like it here.” I shrugged. “I don’t want to move.”

“What about hobbies?” She polished off the last of her margarita.

I stared at her.

She stared back at me. “Fun things, Holden. What do you do on weekends?”

“Work. Gym. Family stuff. The bar.”

She blinked and her brow wrinkled. “Where do you go on vacation?”

I sucked in a breath and tried to remember the last time I took a weekend off. “I go camping in the mountains.” I hadn’t done that in a while, though.

“Someone who likes to spend time outdoors,” she mused. “That shouldn’t be too hard in Queen’s Cove.”

“What do you do on weekends?” I asked, because I was curious.

She brightened up. “Toronto always has something going on.” She spun her finger around in the air at the bar. “There’s a place like this a few blocks from my apartment.” Her smile dimmed and her throat worked. “My old apartment, I mean. My best friend, Willa, and I go there a lot. Toronto has an amazing food scene, so our friend group is always going out, trying new places. We have a lot of friends in the artist community so I go to a lot of exhibits and shows. In the summer, farmer’s markets, where I buy overpriced soap.” She shot me a cheeky grin and my chest warmed. “What else? If the weather’s bad or I’m feeling lazy, I’ll spend the whole day watching interior design shows.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I go to real estate open houses to check out the decor and layout.”

I snorted. “Really?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “It’s fun.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I go to the art gallery here in Queen’s Cove sometimes. If they have a new exhibit.”

Her eyes lit up. “You’ll have to tell me if there’s any good exhibits coming up.”

“The one now features local Indigenous artists. We should go,” I said without thinking. “You should go,” I corrected.

“That would be a good date spot for you to take the future Mrs. Holden.” She tapped the idea onto her phone before glancing up at me. “Is the marriage thing a must-have?”

I gave her a questioning look.

“Like, what if she doesn’t want to get married?” She tilted her head, watching me. “Not everyone does.”

I frowned. “If she doesn’t want to get married, we wouldn’t be a good fit.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What?”

She snorted. “That’s narrow-minded.”

Narrow-minded? I thought back to last weekend at Katherine’s celebration of life, surrounded by all the happy, married couples.

Why would anyone go for Holden when they could have one of his brothers?

My throat worked and I stared at the condensation on my water glass. “I want someone to choose me.” My shoulders lifted in a shrug and I glanced back at her. “I like the idea of a commitment.”

She pursed her lips before tapping it onto her phone.

I frowned at her. “What, you don’t want to get married one day?”

She scoffed but it lacked her usual warmth. “Nope.”

“Never?”

Her gaze lifted to mine. “Never ever.” Her tone was flat.

This conversation was getting under her skin but I couldn’t stop myself.

I leaned forward, propping my elbow on the table, studying her expression. This didn’t make sense. “But you were engaged.”

She sucked in a breath, blinking like she’d been slapped. “Yeah, and now I’m not.” Her words were sharp. She stood and her chair scraped. “I’m going to use the washroom. If the server comes by, can you order me another margarita and two more pork tacos?”

Without another word, she strode off to find the washroom, and I watched her walk away. My gut rolled with regret and disappointment.