Page 53 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

The offer caught me off guard. “I thought you were leaving for New York.”

Sam glanced at Beau, who’d spent the evening engaged in conversation with people at the bar.

“My husband suggested we stay until after the new year, and I happily agreed. I miss Cord and Juni so much now that they’ve moved to Colorado full time.”

“While I appreciate the offer, I don’t want to take you away from your family.”

Sam nudged me. “You’re family too. So is Luna.”

Family. The word resonated more deeply than I’d expected. “Thank you.” My throat tightened. “That would actually help a lot.”

By the time she and Beau left and Miguel flipped the sign to “closed,” my feet ached and my mind was foggy with exhaustion.

“Go home,” he urged, collecting empty glasses from the tables. “I’ll finish up.”

“You sure?” I asked, already untying my apron.

“Positive. There isn’t much left to do besides set the alarm and lock the doors.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Miguel responded.

I grabbed my coat and keys and went out to the parking area behind the bar, stunned to see someone had cleaned the snow off my truck. Knowing Holt wouldn’t have left Luna alone at the house, I decided it must’ve been Miguel. I made a mental note to give the guy a raise.

The drive home took less than five minutes, but it felt endless. When I finally pushed open my front door, the house was quiet and warm. I kicked off my boots in the entryway and padded up the stairs to Luna’s room.

The door was cracked open, a soft nightlight casting a gentle glow on Luna, who was sleeping peacefully. Holt was sitting in the rocking chair, reading something on a tablet, and smiled while I glanced over at him.

“Hey,” he whispered. “How was the rest of your shift?”

“Busy,” I replied, following him into the hallway and closing the door behind us. “How did she do?”

“Good. Her fever broke about an hour after we got here. We had soup, read about twenty stories, and she fell asleep around nine.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “There’s a plate for you in the microwave. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Not gourmet, but it’s sustenance.”

I blinked, oddly touched by the simple gesture. “You made me dinner?”

“And cleaned up afterwards,” he added with a half smile. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m actually pretty handy for a would-be rock star.”

The normality of it all—Holt in my living room, dinner waiting for me, Luna sleeping soundly down the hall—it was something I could get used to if I ever allowed myself to be so stupid. It felt like we’d skipped dozens of steps, fast-forwarding to a domesticity I’d never experienced with anyone.

“Thank you,” I said, the words inadequate for the gratitude welling up inside me. “For everything. Luna’s never this comfortable with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers anymore,” he pointed out gently. “Are we?”

“No,” I admitted. “We’re not.”

I went to the kitchen and found the plate he’d mentioned, then warmed it in the microwave. When I joined him in the living room with my late dinner, Holt stood by the window, gazing out at the snow-covered street.

“You should eat that while it’s hot,” he said. “And I should probably head out.”

“You don’t have to go,” I said before I could stop myself. “Unless you want to.”

He studied me, then slowly moved closer, as if giving me the opportunity to change my mind. By the time he was beside me, I’d set my plate on the coffee table.

“I don’t want to go, but I don’t trust myself to stay without touching you again.”

Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading outward until even my fingertips tingled with awareness. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

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