Page 45

Carrots and Rain

Mallory

“ I —“ I cut myself off, trying to keep in check the emotion that’s threatening to render me further speechless. Because wow. My heart is all at once broken for what Holland went through, in awe of his self-awareness and ability to see how he’s acted and how he wants to change, and tripping over itself, well on its way to falling for him… and falling hard.

I cut my gaze away from him and over to the bag I brought along. I wiggle my hand free of his grasp and reach for the canvas straps. “I brought something for you.”

I glance back at him to see him furrowing his brow. I reach up and drag my finger across the folds in his forehead. “It’s a good thing. I promise.”

I hand him the bag, and he opens it. His eyes widen as he pulls out the book. “ Anne of Green Gables .“ He shakes his head, incredulous. “This is what you picked for me to read?”

I nod, letting loose the smile I feel building from my soul.

“How?” he asks simply.

I shrug. “When we were having dinner at your parents’ house, Willow mentioned that you read it as a kid. She said you got some lessons from Gilbert Blythe, and I didn’t think anything of it, but now…”

I look away. It’s almost too much to think about Holland secretly admiring me.

“I did everything but call you Carrots, Mal,” he says, letting his gaze bounce from my face to the worn pages of the library book.

He glances up at me again. “Believe me when I say I wanted to. I wanted to do anything that would get your attention, because I didn’t think I could ever hold it in the way I longed to hold it. ”

It’s my turn to press my finger over his lips. “New rule.”

His eyes widen, and he tips his head to the side.

“No more thinking you’re not good enough for me.”

He grabs my finger and presses it to his lips. “But I’m not good enough for you.”

“Yes, you are,” I say firmly.

He searches my gaze. “You—“ He stops himself, shaking his head like he has too much to say and can’t decide where to begin. He stares at me with what can only be described as reverence. My body hums with the anticipation of a relationship with Holland, because I can picture it. There will be these soft and sweet moments but also moments of fire and fun and passion and intensity. I want to show up for all of it. I can’t wait.

“You, Holland Bradley, have completely flipped my world upside down.”

He twists his lips to the side. “In a hurricane sort of way? Where everything is ruined and terrible, or…?”

“In an I was asleep, and now I’m awake, and I want to do things differently kind of way,“ I admit.

His eyes glow. “Not too differently. Because I like how you are.”

“Even when I’m an ice queen?”

“Anyone who only sees you as an ice queen doesn’t really know you.” He looks thoughtful. “I’d love to see you let your emotions out in public. I mean, I understand why you don’t, but your fiery side, Mal…” He blows out a breath. “It’s my very favorite.”

I sit up straighter. With Holland in my corner, maybe I could be less locked down in the golf world and let more of my passion show. I’ll figure that out. For now, all I want is for him to kiss me.

I lick my lips, and he traces the movement of my tongue with his eyes. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he meets my gaze, his brown eyes flaming with heat. I lean toward him, and he cups my cheek .

We don’t break eye contact. “Do you”—he swallows—“want me to read to you my favorite part from the book?”

“I—“ I blow out a breath. In any other situation, a man offering to read to me would be the ultimate green flag. It is a green flag. What did Holland say on the golf course earlier today? He wanted to do this right. I appreciate that he isn’t rushing into the physical side of a relationship, even if I might die if he doesn’t kiss me pretty soon. “Of course.”

I pull my legs up and sit cross-legged. “Come here.”

I pat my lap, and he hesitates for only a second before he lays his head down and flips open the book.

He starts to read, his voice smooth and low, and I take a second to marvel at where I am right now.

In Cashmere Cove. In a tree house. With the stars overhead.

With Holland. He’s chuckling to himself as he reads the scene where Gilbert rescues Anne from the bridge piling after her boat sinks.

Tentatively, I spear my fingers through his hair. He stops reading mid-sentence.

“Sorry.” I pull back, suddenly bashful.

“No. Don’t be.” He reaches up and grabs my wrist. “Don’t stop.”

I hesitate, but then he guides my hand back down to his hair.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking.

I nod as I run my fingers over his scalp again. Holland’s eyelids flutter shut, and he moans.

I pull in a breath, my heartbeat pounding in the tips of my fingers.

Touching him like this—innocently but also, I’m realizing, sensually—is so new.

It’s so different from how our relationship was before.

After everything he shared tonight, nothing will be the same between us.

Before this moment, I could have played off everything between us as part of the show.

But now, we know the reality of our feelings for each other.

Feelings that built for him in secret and snuck up and surprised me.

I could worry about what that means for my job or my future as his coach, but right now, all I want to do is be here, in the moment, enjoying the presence of a man who was enough of a man to be honest and direct with me.

I trust Holland. That’s the long and short of it.

I guess I always have. I’m trusting that, though nothing will be the same moving forward, it might actually be better.

I stare down at Holland’s closed eyes. He’s got the most peaceful expression on his handsome face. I can’t help but smile. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” I admit, feeling the blood rush to my face.

Holland’s eyelids flutter shut. “Wish you would have.”

“It would have been weird. What would I have said? Come up to you at practice and been like, ‘Um, hey, Holland, can I feel your hair?’”

He laughs softly. “I would have let you.”

“You would have given me so much crap.”

He grins. “That too.” He opens his eyes. “I would have given anything to be close to you.”

I press my lips together, holding back a shy smile.

I’m comfortable here, with him spread out around me, reading to me from a favorite old book.

The stars are stitched into the sky above us, and thunder rumbles in the distance.

The night is black, and there’s a chill in the air now, but I feel so safe and warm and happy it’s like nothing can touch me.

He clears his throat and reads some more, and finally, when he shuts the book, he flicks his gaze up to me. “Want to dance?”

I splutter out a laugh. “Here?”

“Another benefit of having no roof. We can stand up straight.” He scooches off my lap and stands, holding out his hand for me.

I let him pull me up.

“You can’t beat the view from this dance floor.” We both look up as a crack of thunder makes the tree house shake.

Holland frowns. “The weather might become an issue. One quick dance, and then I’ll get you home safe. Promise.”

He taps a couple buttons on his phone, and then the familiar strings of Frank Sinatra’s “Everybody Loves Somebody” start to play .

He tosses his phone down onto a pillow and draws me into his arms, tucking my head against his shoulder.

“Is this another level in your plan to woo me?”

He shoots me a grin. “Is it working?”

I step even closer to him. “What do you think?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. It’s working. Everything about you is working for me right now, Holland Bradley.”

He sighs as the music crescendos and tightens his arms around my back. “I never, in a million years, thought I’d hear you say something like that to me.”

“Get used to it.”

He leans away as the song ends, looking into my eyes.

I smile up at him, and then I arch my eyebrows. “That being said, you think you can handle your girlfriend critiquing your golf game as your coach.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “A little presumptuous of you. We haven’t even kissed—for real,” he adds.

“Tell me about it,” I grumble, even as my mind flies to when I kissed him on the golf course. Even though I didn’t have any feelings for him then…or at least any feelings I was ready to admit…it was a good kiss. I want to do that again, like, now.

He shoots me a wicked grin. “Someone’s impatient.”

“And you’re not?” I fire back, feeling the familiar tingle of our banter tickle all my senses. Sweet Holland is delicious. Playful Holland is delectable.

“Hearing you beg is kind of making me want to draw this out, to be honest.”

“Don’t you dare.” I reach up and grab him behind the neck, drawing his head closer to me.

His eyes dance, but he pulls back against my hands, and instead of kissing me, he brushes is nose against mine. It’s tender and sweet and driving me all sorts of crazy .

He moves his mouth up and starts kissing me along my hairline.

His lips are soft and warm, and I’m a puddle as he traces the shape of my face with his lips, making it down to my jaw, and then lower to the column of my neck.

When he kisses the corner of my mouth on one side and then the other, I can’t help but whimper.

“Holland.” My voice comes out in a gasp. “Kiss me. Please.”

He pulls his head back, and the smile that slashes across his face is so pure and delighted it robs me of my breath.

He lets go of me, and I bite my cheek to keep from telling him to get back over here and kiss me properly. But he fishes something out of his pocket. It’s a sheet of paper.

He holds it out for me to read.

Can I kiss you now?

There are yes and no checkboxes beneath the question.

He takes a golf pencil from the same pocket and holds it out for me.

“You’ve already answered this, but I want a receipt of your request,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Proof to hold over you forever and ever.”

“You are infuriating.” I snatch the pencil from him. “You’re lucky I haven’t changed my mind.”

He stuffs the pencil and the notebook paper back into his pocket and draws me to him again. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Pretty confident in yourself, huh?”

“With you by my side? Yep. Now…”—he cups my face again—“if you’re done yapping—”

“Me? You’re the one who—“

He talks right over the top of me. “I’d like to kiss you.”

I lick my lips again, nodding slowly.

The moment the teasing in his gaze turns to something more serious—something he’s not taking for granted or taking lightly—his eyes soften and darken, and his entire body curls inward toward me.

The thunder that rumbles around us echoes the hammering in my heart.

His lips are a fraction of an inch away from mine, and all I’m thinking is finally when the sky opens up, and cold, giant droplets of rain start slamming into us.