“Well.” He flicked a few fingers in the direction he’d been walking. “I’d better be going.”
“Sure.” She didn’t allow her disappointment to show as she edged closer to the wall to let him pass. “I’ll see you around.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
He moved off.
Somewhat dazed, she watched him go.
His steps paused.
She jerked her face toward her tray and made a show of straightening the cups.
“Holly?”
“Hm?” She pretended to be surprised to discover that he hadn’t left.
“I’m planning Ben’s rehearsal dinner and I need to find a venue. I’m not familiar with Martinsburg anymore. Would you be willing to help me look for a place?”
He was asking her for assistance? “Sure.”
He produced his phone. “May I have your number?”
She gave it to him.
“Thanks. I’ll contact you.” He nodded curtly, then strode down the street.
She was going to search for rehearsal dinner venues with Josh? Because of the wedding and the smallness of Martinsburg, she’d known that she’d cross paths with Josh during his time here. But she’d envisioned their interactions as short and formal. She hadn’t expected to spend real time with him. Or share real conversations.
She made her way along the sidewalk in the opposite direction, passing an art gallery, a wine shop, and a women’s clothing store before coming to the home furnishings store she lived above. A narrow alley between buildings took her to an exterior staircase. From there, a hallway led to her building’s three second-story units. She left Rob’s coffee outside his doorway. He worked late every night as a sous chef and typically woke around this time. She knocked quietly on Mrs. Chapel’s door. Her elderly neighbor opened the door the width of the inner chain she always kept latched.
“Here you are, Mrs. Chapel.” Holly squeezed a cup through.
“Thank you, dear. Did you remember to put in one and a half packets of sugar?”
“I did.”
“The cup feels cold.”
“Sorry about that. I ran into an old friend on the street. Just zap it in the microwave for thirty seconds.”
Mrs. Chapel patted the cup accusingly with arthritic hands. “If you’re going out again later, I could use a new pack of Depends.”
Holly laughed. “Now Mrs. Chapel, you know I’m just your friendly next door neighbor and coffee delivery girl.”
“Fine.” The old lady winked sagely at Holly. “I’ll guilt one of my daughters into picking up the Depends for me.”
“Good plan.” Holly dashed around the corner to her door before Mrs. Chapel could ask her to buy Ensure or Vitamin K.
She’d scored the best apartment of the bunch. It overlooked Main and boasted lots of windows and spacious everything: living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. The moment she set aside her tray, she dug her phone from her purse and texted her girlfriend, Sam Sullivan. Lunch today, 12, Taqueria.
Josh continued along Main Street until he was sure he’d left Holly far behind him, then ducked blindly into a store. One sweeping view of the place told him that the shop sold Texas nuts.
The middle-aged woman behind the counter caught his eye. “Welcome. May I help you?”
“I’ll take whatever’s most popular.” He hadn’t come in for pecans. He just needed a few minutes of privacy.
“Certainly. Our hickory smoked trail mix is our most popular item.”
“Fine.”
She held up an empty sack. “Two-pound bag all right?”
“Yes.”
Josh took up a position near the front window, his back toward the shop, his shoulder set heavily against the side wall.
There was a reason he’d avoided returning to Martinsburg.
And his reason had the most infuriatingly beautiful gray-blue eyes.
He’d spent his college summers taking courses and working close to the MIT campus. For the most part, his mom had come to visit him in Massachusetts. The few times he’d stayed in Martinsburg for Christmas, he’d gone to great lengths to make sure he never saw Holly.
Seven months ago, Ben and Amanda had gotten engaged and announced that they’d be marrying in their hometown of Martinsburg, Texas, population 10,000. Shortly afterward, Josh had made plans to return to Martinsburg for the four weeks prior to Ben’s wedding. So long as he had his technology with him, he could work away from his home base in Paris for up to a month.
He’d told himself it would be fine. He’d told himself that the thing with Holly had happened in another lifetime. He’d had seven months to get his head straight, to prepare himself.
Seven months hadn’t been long enough.
Eight years hadn’t been long enough, either.
“Here you are!” The store employee displayed the trail mix like a fine wine. “Our best seller.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like to come to the counter for a nut tasting?”
“No. I . . . just need a minute to myself.” He gave her a level stare.
“Ah. Okay. I’ll have this at the register for you when you’re ready.”
He scowled back out the front windows.