Page 91 of In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes

You’re okay.

Holden Rhodes was something special.

* * *

After lunch,the sky was still overcast but dry so we took my new boots and raincoat for a walk along the beach. The tide was out and in the distance, surfers in wetsuits rode waves.

“Warm enough?” Holden asked.

I nodded. I had tucked my hands into my pockets. “I love my new jacket. Thank you again.”

He smiled at the sand. “You look cute in it.”

That comment warmed me inside out and I smiled out at the dark ocean.

“You’re going to make someone really happy, when you find her,” I told him while staring at my boots. He was quiet, so I glanced over at him.

He studied me for a moment.

“You’re a good person, Holden. You’ll be an awesome husband. I hope you know that.”

His eyes turned soft. “Thanks, Sadie.”

My throat constricted, talking about him finding someone. For a moment, I hated her, whoever she was, because she got to live the rest of her life with a guy like him, who bought raincoats and liked paintings and said truthful compliments that made me question everything I thought about myself.

“Where’d that asshole go from that summer, huh?” I asked with a sharp laugh. “That guy who sprayed me with the hose.”

He grinned. “I was watering the garden.”

I elbowed him in the stomach and he jerked to get away while laughing. “The garden isn’t on the porch, dickhead.”

He chuckled and we grinned at each other as we walked.

He cleared his throat. “It’s my parents’ anniversary party next Monday. My mom wants you to come.”

I beamed. “Absolutely. Can I bring anything?”

He shook his head. “Just yourself.”

“I can’t bring nothing. I don’t want them to hate me.”

He made a face. “My parents love you.”

I smiled. I didn’t know why that made me so happy but it did. “I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

A drop hit my forehead and I wiped it away. Another drop hit my hand.

“Want to head back?” he asked.

A dark cloud loomed over the water. “Yep. I think that’s best.”

The rain picked up as we walked back to the inn and by the time we passed through the front gate, it was pouring rain.

“How’d those boots hold up?” he asked as we climbed the porch steps.

“Amazing. My feet are dry.” My jeans from the knee to the ankle were soaked, though, and I shivered as I shook my raincoat off on the porch.

We stepped into the inn and my teeth chattered.

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