Page 38 of In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes

I nodded. “Holden.”

Wyatt pointed down the street at one of the buildings. “His office light is on. He’s still working.” He tugged on Hannah’s hand. “We gotta go, this one’s hungry.”

We said our goodbyes and I checked the time on my phone. Holden was supposed to be here five minutes ago.

Ten minutes later, I blew out a long breath and texted him.

Hurry up, grumpy man!

No response. I glanced at the building Wyatt had pointed at. My heels clipped as I walked and the fabric swished around my legs.

A little thrill shot through my chest, anticipating Holden’s reaction. He’d like this dress, I knew it.

From the sidewalk outside his office building, I could see him working at his desk on the second floor. I pulled out my phone and dialed.

I watched as he picked his phone up.

“Come on,” I murmured. The evening was chilly and I was hungry.

Holden’s gaze lingered on the phone before he silenced it.

My mouth fell open.

“Are you serious?” I hissed, staring at his office from the street.

I dialed again. He glanced at the phone before turning back to his computer.

Dickhead!

Rejection stung me under my ribcage, and my nostrils flared.

Unfuckingbelievable.

I was helpinghim, and he was blowing me off to read boring work emails?

Something angry and miserable twisted in my stomach and I frowned. Here I was, thinking Holden wasn’t the asshole he used to be.

The joke was on me. Classic, trusting Sadie.

* * *

I arrived home in a huff.

I did my hair for that guy. I wore my favorite dress. I was wearing perfume.

Nothing had changed. I thought we were becoming friends, but Holden Rhodes still wanted nothing to do with me.

“Dickhead,” I muttered for the tenth time in the last half hour.

As I pulled my pajamas on, my gaze landed on my painting supplies.

An idea formed in my head and I snorted.

I hadn’t painted outside of work for years. While dating Luke, the artist, I had some friends over for dinner. One of them mistook one of my paintings for his, and he nearly spat out his wine.

“That’s Sadie’s painting, not mine,” he had hurried to tell them with a laugh.

He was offended anyone thought my shitty painting was done by him. Like it was laughable.

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