In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes: Chapter 33

AT THE EDGE of the inn’s property, Holden’s gaze lingered on some of the trees in the forest.

He frowned. “I should have an arborist out. Storm season is coming up and we get a lot of downed trees during the winter. They cause a lot of problems.” He turned back to me. “I’ll call on Monday.”

“You want me to call?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I got it.”

We walked into town with our coffees, saying hello to people we recognized. Holden listened to me chat away about the reality dating show I watched with the girls on Monday nights. Div, Hannah’s friend from the bar, and Max, who managed Avery’s restaurant, joined us sometimes so I was getting to know them.

“Can we go in here?” I pointed at the art gallery. “I want to see if the gift shop has any coffee table books on art. I think they’d be nice to have in the sitting room, for people to flip through.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“I usually go to thrift stores for coffee table books but—” I winced, “—I can’t show my face in there.”

Holden grinned before his expression turned serious. “Nothing to be ashamed about,” he said, imitating Don.

I laughed. “Ugh. Stop.”

We stepped inside and I moved toward the gift shop but Holden’s hand wrapped around my arm and gently tugged.

“Let’s wander through,” he said, tilting his head to the gallery.

I shrugged. “Okay.”

He slipped a twenty into the donation box and waved me off when I tried to pay him back. We strolled through, stopping to study each painting before moving on to the next.

“Which is your favorite?” I asked.

He turned and pointed. “That one.”

“Wow.” I blinked and my eyebrows rose sky high. “That’s pretty sexy for a small town gallery.”

It was a painting of a man and woman, naked and embracing, staring at each other. The colors were rich and dark.

His mouth curled. “Not everyone is a perv like you.” He shrugged. “It’s honest.”

The intimacy of the painting made my heart twist. I stepped forward to read the card. The painting was from the nineteen-fifties by a local artist. She had passed away a decade prior.

Maybe this was her truth, but no one had ever looked at me like that. Intimacy meant honesty, and even if I loved Grant, it wasn’t real, because it wasn’t true.

I didn’t even know if I loved him. I think I loved the idea of having a fiancé more than I loved him. My stomach rolled. I didn’t even love him and I was still so easily misled.

Holden stepped close behind me, barely touching me. He leaned down close to my ear, keeping his voice low. “It’s part of a pair, but the gallery won’t sell it to the other owner, and the owner won’t give his up.”

“Maybe they’re doomed to be apart forever.”

“Or they’re both waiting for the other to cave.”

I frowned and narrowed my eyes up at him and he wiggled his eyebrows back.

“Which is your favorite?”

“Hmmm.” My gaze roamed the gallery. I found Emily Carr’s self-portrait. “That one.”

His mouth hitched. “That’s Hannah’s favorite, too.”

“Oh, yeah? I didn’t know she liked to come here.”

He nodded. “Sometimes. She’s been tired lately with being pregnant.”

“Yes, she mentioned that last week.”

He nodded at the painting. “Why is this your favorite?”

I studied it as Emily Carr stared back at us with a haughty, don’t fuck with me expression. “Self-portraits are such a mind fuck, Holden.” I shook my head, rubbing my forehead. “I failed a painting class in university because I refused to hand mine in.”

“You didn’t do it?”

“I tried.” I laughed lightly. “I tried all year. It was a two-semester course and I had to take pottery in the summer to make up the credits.” I rolled my eyes at him. “The people in the pottery class kept trying to read my tarot cards.” I bit my lip. “Actually, that was fun, and I got a cool vase out of the class.”

We wandered to the gift shop. “Why couldn’t you do the portrait?”

I dragged in a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. “It was hard. It wasn’t like painting someone else. A self-portrait is you telling the world who you are. I had heard that guy making fun of my painting and I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

My throat caught as the memories rushed back at me. I wished it were different, and I’d never met Luke, the painter ex.

We stepped into the gift shop and found the book section. “I felt like such a failure when I couldn’t finish the painting. Everyone went out for drinks after the last class and I didn’t go because I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t done the painting.”

“You’re not a failure.” His voice was low and quiet but his gaze on me was intense.

“Holden. I literally failed the class.”

His eyes met mine and my stomach rolled at the warmth in them. “You’re not a failure,” he repeated. “Would you ever try again? To see if you could?”

My gut lurched like I was back on the singles cruise. I shook my head. “I don’t like painting myself.”

“You haven’t tried in a while.”

I shook my head with a rueful smile. “I don’t think so. Come on.” I tugged on his arm. “Let’s go say hi to Avery at the restaurant and we can get some lunch.”

He didn’t move. His eyes scanned my face with a little frown.

“Holden.” I tugged his arm again. “Come on.”

“You’re talented, Sadie.”

My lips pressed into a thin line. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m good at design stuff, I know.”

“No.” His eyes were bright and it was like I was all he could see. People side-stepped around us on the sidewalk and we should have moved but the intensity in his gaze rooted me in place.

“You’re good at design, but you’re a talented painter. Self-portraits aren’t supposed to be perfect. They’re supposed to be honest. That’s what brilliant art is.” His hands framed my jaw and my pulse picked up. I couldn’t tear my gaze from his. My throat worked under his strong hands. “Your paintings are incredible, and I think you should give it another try, even if you decide to burn it after. Fuck up, Sadie. Fuck up and move on.”

Were we talking about painting still? I had no idea. “I’ve already fucked up so much,” I whispered.

“And you’re okay.” The firm tone he used weaved something through my heart. Like I didn’t believe it until he said it.

I was okay.

He searched my eyes and I had the urge to raise up on my tiptoes and kiss him, but we were on the street and we were supposed to be friends in public.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he told me.

I shook my head, face still framed by his hands. “Holden, we can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

I opened my mouth to protest but his mouth lowered to mine and I sighed into him. The day was chilly and his mouth was hot, hungry, and inviting. I let him kiss me there right on the main street of Queen’s Cove and any protest in me faded away as his tongue glided over mine. His breath skated across my skin and I melted into him. His words danced in my head.

You’re okay.

Holden Rhodes was something special.

AFTER LUNCH, the sky was still overcast but dry so we took my new boots and raincoat for a walk along the beach. The tide was out and in the distance, surfers in wetsuits rode waves.

“Warm enough?” Holden asked.

I nodded. I had tucked my hands into my pockets. “I love my new jacket. Thank you again.”

He smiled at the sand. “You look cute in it.”

That comment warmed me inside out and I smiled out at the dark ocean.

“You’re going to make someone really happy, when you find her,” I told him while staring at my boots. He was quiet, so I glanced over at him.

He studied me for a moment.

“You’re a good person, Holden. You’ll be an awesome husband. I hope you know that.”

His eyes turned soft. “Thanks, Sadie.”

My throat constricted, talking about him finding someone. For a moment, I hated her, whoever she was, because she got to live the rest of her life with a guy like him, who bought raincoats and liked paintings and said truthful compliments that made me question everything I thought about myself.

“Where’d that asshole go from that summer, huh?” I asked with a sharp laugh. “That guy who sprayed me with the hose.”

He grinned. “I was watering the garden.”

I elbowed him in the stomach and he jerked to get away while laughing. “The garden isn’t on the porch, dickhead.”

He chuckled and we grinned at each other as we walked.

He cleared his throat. “It’s my parents’ anniversary party next Monday. My mom wants you to come.”

I beamed. “Absolutely. Can I bring anything?”

He shook his head. “Just yourself.”

“I can’t bring nothing. I don’t want them to hate me.”

He made a face. “My parents love you.”

I smiled. I didn’t know why that made me so happy but it did. “I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

A drop hit my forehead and I wiped it away. Another drop hit my hand.

“Want to head back?” he asked.

A dark cloud loomed over the water. “Yep. I think that’s best.”

The rain picked up as we walked back to the inn and by the time we passed through the front gate, it was pouring rain.

“How’d those boots hold up?” he asked as we climbed the porch steps.

“Amazing. My feet are dry.” My jeans from the knee to the ankle were soaked, though, and I shivered as I shook my raincoat off on the porch.

We stepped into the inn and my teeth chattered.

“Shall we knock that wall down, now?” I asked him while my teeth clacked. “It’ll warm us up.”

He frowned. “You’re freezing.”

I shook my head. “Not for long. It’s these west coast winters, it’s above zero but somehow so much colder than Toronto.” I rubbed my arms to warm myself up. “I’ll be fine.”

He stared down at me before pointing upstairs. “Get into the bath and I’ll make you some tea.”

“I’m fine, Holden, I promise.”

“Sadie.” He gave me a sharp look. “Go.”

“I hate it when you tell me what to do,” I muttered as I climbed the stairs. A bath was exactly what I wanted, I’d admit.

“You can be the boss later,” he called from the kitchen, and I grinned to myself. A thrill ran through me at the idea that we might fool around again tonight. We hadn’t done anything since the other night and I had been burning the batteries out on my toy in anticipation.

In my ensuite upstairs, I turned on the tap and squeezed out a quarter of the bottle of body wash into the stream before I undressed and slipped into the water. The heat stung my skin as I eased in but once the tub was full and I turned the tap off, the rain pounding on the roof lulled me and my muscles relaxed. I inhaled the orange ginger body wash scent and closed my eyes.

I thought about how handsome Holden was in his black rain parka and smiled to myself.

The bathroom door opened and Holden walked in with a hot look in his eyes. I pulled my arms up across my chest and arousal tugged between my legs. He yanked his t-shirt over his head.

“I thought you were making tea,” I breathed, heart racing.

“Changed my mind.” He undid his belt.