Page 31 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)

Holt

I'm swimming in deja vu this morning as I get dressed and ready to go pick up Chloe.

It was just over two years ago when I wandered into the library at the U, snagged an empty seat at a random table, and looked up to see the face that changed everything.

It hadn't been easy to get her to agree to a date, and I was sure she'd cancel on me.

I'm carrying that same sense of nerves and possibility with me this morning – but it's even more charged this time because I know exactly what I'll be missing if she bows out.

Last time I was a stranger, this time there's history.

I've done life both with and without Chloe Moore, and I much prefer with .

"Cesar, you ready?" I ask the smaller man who's sitting on his twin bed behind me, putting on his shoes. "It's time."

He scoffs, seeing right through me. "Yes, Senor," he teases. "I will not make you late for your woman."

I toss a look over my shoulder. "Be cool today, man. My nerves are shot."

I normally don't worry too much about my clothing and the weather, and I figure life has a way of working out.

But this morning I stared at my row of hanging shirts like my entire future depended on picking the right one.

The dumb part is that one, Chloe has already seen them all because I only brought a few, and two, none of them are impressing anyone.

The weather is how the weather always is – hazy with humidity and warmish.

I look at the jeans I pulled on and wish I'd washed them last night, even if it would have meant sacrificing sleep.

Cesar's voice interrupts me glaring at my pants. "Someone shot you?"

I laugh and look up at him. "It's an expression."

I translate it in Spanish, and he smirks. "Women never make it easy."

Truer words have never been spoken. "Would we want it easy, though?" I tease back.

He laughs and stands, swiping his hands down his thighs to smooth his wrinkled cotton pants. "No, amigo. It is more fun this way."

We don't have a mirror in our room, so I cross the yard to the small bathing room that's on our side of the compound.

I'm not risking looking as flustered as I feel.

I wet my fingers and tame my hair and smooth out my short beard – which really does not require smoothing – and wonder if I should shave off the part that's grown down my neck a bit.

Does Chloe like neck beard? Or does she hate neck beard?

I rub at the beard on my neck and smile a few times to make sure no breakfast got left in my teeth.

I search for eye boogies, and nose hairs, and any new moles on my neck that might be off-putting, and as I'm tugging my shirt to search for spills, Cesar enters the bathroom.

He rolls his eyes at me in the mirror. "You are pretty, amigo. She will agree."

I shake my head and chuckle. "Thank you, but what about this?" I run my fingers over my jawline.

"You have hair like a man. Can we go? You have enough mirror time?" he teases, backing out of the tiny space.

I nod and slap his back as we head toward the gate where we'll meet the women. "Vamos."

Doesn't mean I'm not still wondering about neck beard versus no neck beard. I vow to trim it up tonight.

Chloe and Rachelle are waiting at the gate, and I do my best not to stare awkwardly.

I mostly see Chloe in scrubs, which is not a bad look for her, but in her slim-fit joggers and a light athletic shirt, with an unzipped jacket over the top, she looks so much like the college girl I met that it makes me smile.

Her gold necklaces catch the light, her earrings match, and she smiles a little shyly when she sees us walking toward them.

I remember her voice saying I wan t this last night, and the feel of holding her, and I have to take a quick breath to keep from walking straight up to her and doing it all over again in front of our friends.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Rachelle greets with her southern accent, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Your dates await." She cocks out a hip.

"Dates?" Chloe asks with a smirk, and Rachelle elbows her.

"Yes. I can't go home saying I didn't go on a single date while I was in Peru. My reputation couldn't handle it. I'm considered a catch back home, you know," Rachelle bats her eyelashes playfully. "So, this is now a date. I'm with Holt and you can have Cesar."

I can see in her expression that she's baiting Chloe and I'm curious if it'll work.

Chloe's nostrils flare and she opens her mouth to say something, but catches on to the game before words actually leave her mouth.

Her initial reaction is enough to have Rachelle wink at me over Chloe's head, and I give her a little eyebrow wiggle.

Chloe scoots toward Cesar and hooks her arm through his. "That sounds good to me."

Cesar smiles at her and hugs her arm to his side. "My lady," he says in a fake low voice that has all four of us cracking up. "Let us go."

We step through the gate and into the alleyway that will take us down the hill to a paved area where we can meet up with the taxi I ordered last night.

I don't know why I was worried about the weather – it's a beautiful morning.

I'm following Chloe down the hill, watching her smile as she keeps her arm through Cesar's, chatting lightly and happily.

She's relaxed and I'm relieved. If she'd been tense I'd take that as a sign that she was regretting things. This is good.

"What's your move today?" Rachelle asks, hooking her arm through mine.

I catch her eyes, and am surprised to find that she doesn't seem to be aware of the kiss. Chloe is kind of private, but I'd have expected her to tell Rachelle. Not sure how to feel about that. For now, I shrug and grin.

"Be charming?" I answer.

She pinches my forearm and I frown. "Be serious, Holt. Time is short. She said you're going back to Salt Lake after this for a month, but she could disappear on you there if you don't make your intentions clear this week. So, what's your move?"

I rub at my arm and pinch my lips together. "I need one-on-one time with her."

She gives one firm nod. "Done. Cesar and I can disappear. We'll accidentally get lost in the market."

"Okay. I like that."

"You need to at least hold her hand today. Kiss her if possible."

I scoff. "You don't have to tell me how to go about it."

She scoffs back. "Well, it doesn't sound like you took advantage of the gift I gave you last night, so I can't assume you'll pull today off without clear instructions.

Last time you tried something on your own, you ended up telling her you'd marry her before God in that yellow church. Try not to mess up today."

I tamp down on admitting that last night went even better than she'd hoped.

"Does she talk to you about me?" I ask, sort of hating myself for it .

"No."

My chest constricts. "That's what I thought."

She pats my arm. "She talks about everything but you, you dummy. And that's significant."

"How?"

She blows out a breath and sighs for good measure.

"It means there are big feelings there. Girls talk about meaningless stuff all the time, but the stuff that they really care about?

Not so much. We hold that stuff tight unless we're with our besties – and I love Chloe, but we're not at that level.

So the fact that you're around and obviously jonesing for her, and she says not a word about you? Yeah, that's important."

"So no talk is good news?" I clarify.

"It's great news."

We arrive at the base of the hill to see a sedan with a taxi sign painted across the side, parked and waiting. Three of us will need to share the small back seat, and before I realize what's going on, Rachelle has released my arm and is diving for the front passenger door.

"Shotgun," she calls and gets herself settled in nice and comfy.

Cesar leads Chloe around to the other side and opens the door for her, then gestures for her to enter in front of him.

He shoots me a look over the top of the car and I nod, climbing in my side so that she'll end up sitting in the middle between us.

Cesar and Rachelle are on this. Somehow we've become a team in search of the same end goal.

Operation Make Chloe Love Holt Again is underway.

We only have a week to make some serious progress, and I'm not sure my stomach will survive the nerve-fest.

Once again I find my thigh pressed up against Chloe's.

Last time this happened I ended up professing my love to her, and I'm not going to lie, it's not my favorite memory.

I give directions to the cab driver in Spanish, and once we're under way Rachelle dives right into cheerful chit-chat and questions about where we're off to.

"I hope you guys left some room in your luggage for souvenirs," she sings. "I brought an extra backpack just for that purpose. I will go home with an alpaca blanket and a Christmas nativity set. My mama collects them."

"She collects alpaca blankets?" I ask, my tone teasing.

Rachelle looks over her shoulder. "Nativities, and your joke wasn't as funny as you hoped it would be."

I laugh, causing my shoulder to brush Chloe's, and I hold myself there, liking the contact.

"What about you, Chlo?" I ask, turning just enough to meet her eyes. "Any must-haves?"

She sucks in her lips as she thinks. "Well, I don't have a ton of extra space in my luggage. . . "

"No sweat." I pat her thigh. "I have room and we're both going to Salt Lake. Get a few things."

I see surprise flash through her expression. I'm not sure if it's the thigh touch, the reminder that we're headed the same direction, or the offer to pack-mule her things internationally, but she keeps facing forward and nods as her cheeks pink up.

"Alright. Well, it would be fun to bring back a few things for my parents and brother, Allie, and my cousins," she replies.

"Don't forget about Grandma Sue," I crack. "You don't want to be in the dog house."