In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes (The Queen’s Cove Series Book 3)
In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes: Chapter 23

THE SMILE SPREAD over his entire face as Holden laughed. It sparkled out of his eyes. Little lines formed around the corners of his eyes and my stomach did a slow, warm roll forward.

Holden’s smile was radiant.

Dazed and silent, I swallowed. Wow.

“Painters make life a little more interesting with their art.” He shrugged. “That’s why I like renovations. It’s fun to turn something ugly into something beautiful.”

“That’s what I love about interior design.” I bit my smile back. “The inn is going to look so good when we’re done, Holden. I know it.”

He nodded. The big smile was gone but it lingered in his eyes. “I know.”

We walked in silence and I pictured his smile over and over again.

“Do you still paint a lot?” he asked at one point.

“No, only for work.” I shot him a side-long look. “And revenge.”

He snorted. A tree had fallen across the path and he held his hand out to help me over. His palm was warm with callouses, and for a split second, I thought about not letting go.

I couldn’t be holding his hand, though. It wasn’t like that with us.

“Do you not enjoy it anymore?”

“I used to.” I used to sit at my easel for hours, like the other night.

“What changed?”

The words sat right below my vocal cords. I couldn’t even pretend I was too busy or didn’t have the interest. I knew why I stopped.

Holden was my friend, I had decided, so I should be honest with him the way I was with Willa.

Maybe I should trust him. It wasn’t like he could do anything with the information.

“Um.” I stuck my hands in the pockets of my coat. “An ex, he was a painter, he kind of made fun of my painting, and I lost interest after.”

Holden frowned. “What did he say?”

I rolled my eyes. “This is stupid.”

“Tell me, Sadie.”

He said my name firm and harsh, and a shiver ran down my back.

“Um. Someone thought my painting was his and he got offended.” I shrugged and gave Holden an I’m fine smile.

He frowned deeper. “Sadie. That guy was a fucking asshole. You’re talented.”

I rolled my eyes and waved him off. “He had a fragile ego, and he thought he was more advanced than me.” Still, my chest fluttered when Holden defended me. “I guess he was, since I’ve only sold one painting my entire life, and that was to Katherine.” I tilted my head at Holden. “Do you know what happened to that painting? I didn’t see it in the inn.”

He froze and his eyebrows lifted. His gaze shot to mine and he shook his head.

I shrugged. “Probably went to the thrift store.”

We walked on through the quiet forest. A bird chirped on a branch above us and the sun peaked through the tree cover. A hundred feet away, a creek trickled and bubbled.

“If this place makes your problems disappear, I’ll have to bring you back,” Holden murmured.

I studied his handsome face. Against the dark green forest and his black parka, his eyes burned bright. No man should look this good in a parka.

Holden and I were friends, I realized. I couldn’t use the excuses I was just helping him replace someone or renovating the inn, because what were we doing right now, in the forest? We weren’t going to replace a wife for him out here amongst the squirrels.

Holden and I had become friends, and I wasn’t upset about it. I liked spending time with him. After we got past the initial grumpiness, he was pretty easy to chat with, and when he got irritated with me, I loved it.

He was nice to me. He brought me coffees and made sure I got home okay from the bar.

“Is that the guy you were engaged to?” Holden asked quietly as we crossed a small bridge over the creek.

“No. Different guy.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement in his throat, and I was grateful he didn’t push the issue.

My mouth twisted and a funny pressure rose in my chest.

I wanted to tell him about Grant.

I didn’t the other day, when we worked on the inn late at night, but right now, walking in the forest, after he talked about painting and art? I’d changed my mind.

We were friends, after all.

“He stole a lot of money from me,” I blurted out, and my pulse went nuts. My gaze swung to the ground, a tree stump, the sky—anywhere but Holden. “The guy I was engaged to. Like, a lot. He encouraged me to start an interior design firm with him and then he stole the business loan. So. Um.” I shrugged at the ground. “No company, no money, no fiancé.”

Holden stopped walking. His eyes flashed with fury.

“That’s why you need two hundred grand?” he asked, voice low and careful but his eyes flashed.

I gave him a tiny nod.

“Fucking hell, Sadie.”

Pain and defensiveness wrenched in my chest. Ugh.

“I know, okay!” I winced. “I was so stupid to trust him with access to my accounts. I rushed into things with him. I made mistake after mistake and it’s all my fault. The detectives made sure I knew how much I fucked up. I know.” I rubbed my temples. “I’ve learned from my mistake.”

“Sadie.” His hands came to my shoulders. “Look at me.”

“No.” I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see the judgement in his eyes. Ugh. Why did I tell him? So dumb. I always opened my big mouth.

“Sadie.” He squeezed my shoulders gently and one of his hands came to the back of my neck. His palm was warm and comforting. “Please look at me.”

Against all my judgement, I opened my eyes.

The expression on his face, so caring, concerned, and worried, melted the words right out of my mouth.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly, gazing down at me.

“It was my fault,” I whispered. “I trusted him when I shouldn’t have, and now I’m paying the price.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” His throat worked. His face was close enough so I could see each individual eyelash.

His eyes had flecks of dark blue, I realized. They weren’t fully gray.

“Me, too.” I rolled my lips to wet them and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

My breath caught and his fingers twitched on the back of my neck. The lights in my head dimmed and my thoughts slowed down. Telling him my deep, dark secret lifted something in me.

His gaze traveled from my mouth to my eyes, then back to my mouth. His lids fell halfway and his gaze went unfocused in the sexiest way. A thrilling little zing! zipped down to my ladyparts.

We were totally going to kiss again.

Which was… bad, but I forgot why. I wanted to kiss Holden again. His scent was clouding my brain, all spicy and sharp and fucking delicious.

My phone rang in my back pocket.

Holden blinked and the heat in his gaze evaporated. He let me go and took a step back, raking a hand through his hair.

“Hello?” I answered. I sounded breathless.

“Sadie,” a warm, familiar voice said in my ear and I blinked.

“Claire.” I smiled. “Hi.”

Claire Shi was one of my teachers back in my design program. I had worked with her for my final design project back in school and a couple times a year, we got coffee to catch up. She was a partner at a design firm in Toronto. I loved talking about design with her and hearing about the exciting projects and lessons learned. I considered her a mentor.

I had always wanted to work for her, but the timing was never right.

“Um, can I call you back?” I asked, watching Holden. “In an hour or so?”

“Oh, sure thing. I was calling to talk about the job offer.”

I froze. “Job offer?”

Holden frowned at a nearby tree.

“I emailed you a couple days ago, did I send it to the wrong email? We have a position open and I know you’re starting your own firm but I wanted to see if you knew anyone who would be good for the role.”

My stomach clenched. She didn’t know about Grant and I. Of course, how would she know? It wasn’t like it was in the news.

I chewed my lip, frowning. “Actually, that fell through.”

“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “Well, you’re my first pick if you’re interested. You know I’ve wanted you on my team for years.”

And I’d wanted to work for her for years. Claire was an incredible designer, and her projects ranged from restaurants to hotel suites to vacation homes. I had always wanted to work for her.

This was my dream. After all the Grant stuff, I had no clue what to do once I got back to Toronto. I figured I’d replace an interior design job somewhere, but this was the best possible outcome.

I glanced at the surrounding forest and then at Holden, who was watching and listening with a frown, and my heart gave a little pull.

I liked this place. I liked working at the bar with Olivia, and wandering through the forest with Holden, and I loved renovating the inn for Katherine.

I couldn’t stay, though. Toronto was home for me, not Queen’s Cove. I had a whole life back there. Willa and all my other friends. All my favorite coffee shops, restaurants, and bars.

“I want the job,” I rushed. “I would love to work for you if you’ll have me.”

She let out a surprised, pleased laugh. “That was easy. Fabulous. You’ll have to do a formal interview with HR but now we don’t even have to do a job posting.”

“The only thing is, I’m here until March.”

“Hmm. That should be fine. Shannon, the designer you’re replacing, is going on maternity leave in April. This is a permanent position, though,” she was quick to add. “We want to grow the team.”

My chest felt funny. Fluttery at the idea of working with Claire, but tight at the reminder that I was leaving. I swallowed. “Great.”

We exchanged goodbyes and Claire promised to send over documents in a few days before we hung up. Holden’s gaze flicked to mine.

“I just got my dream job back in Toronto,” I told him.

He stared at me for a second with an unreadable expression before he nodded. “That’s great, Sadie. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I chewed my lip and bounced on my heels, not sure what else to say.

He nodded at the trail, the way we had come. “Let’s head back.”

As we walked back to the inn through the quiet forest, an image flashed into my head of this morning, curled up against Holden. Another lick of hesitation hit me in the gut.

No way, I told myself. This job was what I needed to keep me on the right track. If I were leaving in March, there was no way I’d get attached to anyone here in Queen’s Cove.

Especially not Holden.

THAT EVENING AFTER HOLDEN LEFT, my painting supplies stole my attention.

I took a seat at Katherine’s old desk. When selecting furniture for donation, I held off on getting rid of this piece. I could picture her sitting here, gazing out at the ocean through the window. The drawers were still full of her things—pens and sticky notes and old photographs. Also, it fit nicely in her little office alcove. It didn’t seem right to part with it.

The conversation Holden and I had in the forest about painting replayed in my head, and my fingers itched with restless energy. What he had said about art making him feel connected to other people.

My chest hummed with a warm, longing sensation. Outside, the sun set, splashing bright colors across the sky.

I picked up one of my smaller blank canvases and propped it up on the desk before smearing paint on my palette. The movements were so natural, like my hands knew exactly how much paint to squeeze out.

And then I began to paint.

I sunk deep into focus, enjoying the weird acrylic scent of the paints, the cool breeze from the open window, and the wavering reflection of the sky across water. I painted what I saw, and what I saw was beautiful.

I liked this version of myself, I realized. Not the woman who got accidentally drunk on cordial. She could stay far away. I’d had enough of her.

This version, the woman who painted? I was happy in this moment. A fraction of the weight on my shoulders lifted.