Page 62 of The Inn Dilemma

“They’re not a mess of thoughts. They’re brilliant, and it’s going to look amazing once we’re done.”

My chest warms at Nova’s genuine excitement. I never pictured her becoming so invested in the small-town inn, something that means so much to my family. My dangerous emotions only grow at this side of her.

“They will!” Aunt Birdie agrees. “Well, this old body needs more sleep than you two. I’ll let you get back to your movie night.” She makes a noise as if she just remembered something. “Holt, let me speak to you privately again.”

I take her off speakerphone, then motion with my head to Nova that I’m going to step aside. She dips her own head in understanding.

Once I’m on the other side of the patio, I say, “Okay, I’m alone.”

“Stop stalling. I know why you’re there. Tell the girlhow you feel and get on with the relationship. Marriage, then babies. You’re not getting any younger.”

I chuckle and run my free hand through my hair.

Nova looks over at me with a question on her face. I hold up a finger, telling her I’ll be done soon.

“I’m working on it,” I whisper.

“Work faster!”

I run my hand down my face. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Oh, I guess you’re right. I won’t keep you any longer. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I sit on the couch after hanging up, and Nova pops the DVD in, then comes over to the couch to sit down. The cushion dips with the force of her plop and causes her to fall into me. Without hesitation, I lift my arm up and drape it over the back of the couch behind Nova. She leans forward and grabs the remote before leaning back and perfectly settling into my side. We’re not exactly cuddling, but not exactly not cuddling. Regardless of the specifics, I’m comfortable.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” She looks up at me expectantly.

I rub down the side of my face with my free hand. “Of all the classic movies out there, whyBreakfast at Tiffany’s? They’re both practically prostitutes?—”

Nova’s mouth drops open. “Nuh uh! She’s a paid informant. He’s…” She bites her lip and looks away sheepishly. “He’s a male prostitute. Okay, fine. What movie do you want to watch?”

Nova has loved Audrey Hepburn for as long as I’ve known her. She didn’t have posters of boy bands in her room; she had framed pictures of Audrey Hepburn. Even now, she dresses like the icon when she’s not vegging outat home. Her outfits have more of her own flare with the plaid flannels, and sometimes even boots, paired with dresses now.

“How aboutRoman Holiday?”

Her lips lift in a mischievous smile.

“You’re clearly in the mood for an Audrey Hepburn film, andRoman Holidayis one I do actually enjoy.” I give her a dark look. “That stays between us.” I motion between her and me.

“I know, I know. It can’t get out that the big strong Navy SEAL can be soft.”

I slide my hand down her shoulder and pull her firmly against me. “I have no problem letting people know that I’m soft when it comes to you.” Searching her eyes, I add, “Always have been and always will be.” My focus dips to her lips, and when they part on a surprised breath, I can’t help but admire how soft and supple they look. Fire fills my veins.

Just when I lean forward to lay claim to what I’m growing to need as mine, Titan jumps onto Nova’s lap and nudges her hand. Almost instinctively she starts petting him.

I take that as my sign that now isn’t the time to finally kiss Nova Price. Or worse that this is all one-sided. She told me she wants to take a break from dating for a while, and after what she’s been through, I can’t blame her. I’ll be her friend and I won’t push for anything more.

At least for now.

Chapter Twenty-One

Holt, Age 25

Asingle tear falls from my eye as I watch them close the lid to my dad’s casket. Flurries of emotions consume me as my life with Dad plays through my head like a movie reel.

Sprinkled in with the horrible times were some good times. Like the days Dad came home happy after work when he was emotionally available enough to help me with homework. The few nights we went out for burgers and fries. But mostly I felt like a regretted afterthought. A mistake. Or even worse, but far more likely, a curse.

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