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“You do not hate it at all, Nicholas Fraser,” Holly interrupted.

Sawyer snorted. Cole smirked. “Of course I don’t. And anyway, I’m not plotting against her. I’m plotting for her. And what I want is for her to have some damn fun.”

“I’m not plotting with you to get your best friend laid.”

He didn’t appear convinced.

“Oh,” she clarified, “I’m definitely plotting to get your best friend laid, no question, but I’m doing fine on my own. I don’t need your help. It would be weird. It doesn’t feel great.”

“She’s right, Cole. It’s weird,” Sawyer said, stealing the roll from Cole’s hand and biting it.

No adult had ever sighed so dramatically. “Why does everyone have so many morals on this farm?” Cole whined. “If you regret this choice and need my help, you let me know.”

“You an expert in romance now?” Holly asked skeptically. “From what I hear, you’ve seriously dated one person, ever, if in fact you two are seriously dating.” She pointed between them.

Cole flushed. Sawyer rolled his eyes. “You can tell people I’m your boyfriend, Nicholas.”

“I can’t,” Cole said, this time actually whispering, his voice serious, “say that to anyone until I’ve said it to Tara. She has to be the first to know.”

Sawyer squeezed his hand, and Holly found her eyes unexpectedly wet. Something about this massive goofy man who was never serious about anything being so deadly serious that he had to tell Tara about his love life first pierced her. Maybe it was because she knew that Tara did not believe she held that space in Cole’s life, or even deserved to, because Tara believed that she herself did not deserve to be anyone’s other half.

“Does she know how much you love her?” Holly asked.

Cole looked confused. “Obviously. Why wouldn’t she?”

That made her heart ache, because even the person who knew her best didn’t truly see her. Hadn’t noticed what she wasn’t saying.

“TARA, FINALLY!” Cole shouted, and Holly turned to see her walking up to the table. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Tara blinked at him and smiled a small, pained smile. “Yes, Cole. I know exactly how much you love me.”

Holly didn’t know Cole well enough to know if he heard what she was really saying, but she thought she saw him stiffen a bit. Maybe something real and serious would come out of this fake dating shenanigan and they would have a real talk.

Sawyer rose.

“Tara, I would know you anywhere, based on Cole’s description,” he said, embracing her once Cole had released her and then holding her at arm’s length to look at her.

Her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

He grinned.

“Stunning blonde, eyeliner wings so sharp they could kill a man, always dressed like she raided Chanel’s archives.”

“Cole, you know I don’t wear Chanel,” Tara objected. “Coco Chanel was a Nazi.”

“So is your aunt Cricket,” Cole pointed out.

Holly laughed so hard tea shot out of her nose.

Once they were seated, Tara put an arm along the back of Holly’s chair as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Holly reached up to weave their fingers together. She turned to Tara, who gave her a little smile, and on her other side, Cole winked at her.

“So,” asked the wife who had gotten engaged at Carrigan’s, “how did you two meet?”

Holly stared at Tara, her eyes wide. How had they not come up with a cover story? Two weeks to prep and two days on the road, and neither of them had thought to wonder how they were meant to have gotten together?

Tara squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “Let me tell the story, babe. I love it.”

“You are better at it.” Holly smiled in a way she hoped read as beguiled. They should be able to wing this—they were both professionally trained at reading people. Defense attorneys and diner waitresses had to be good storytellers.