He returned to looking at her. “Tell me about your writing.”
She remembered that he’d always been quick to change subjects. He’d never had the patience to chitchat about things that didn’t interest him when he could jump the tracks to things that did. “What would you like to know?”
He asked educated questions about the business of publishing and about her writing process. It touched her that he cared to know about her whimsical and cherished profession.
She relaxed by degrees as they talked, just the two of them surrounded by air that smelled like fresh soil and the lavender growing around the base of the barn. It was a unique spell, this. A hawk rode the faraway wind—
“Hi there, y’all.”
She’d been so engrossed in their conversation that the arrival of the farmer came as a small surprise. A friendly man with a John Deere hat and a sun-worn face, he pushed open one of the sliding metal doors and ushered them inside the barn.
Unlike many of the leaning, ramshackle barns dotting the Texas countryside, this structure had likely been built in the last five years. It had plenty of windows, exposed wood walls, and wonderful cross-timbered beams spanning the peaked ceiling.
“A while back the boss had the idea of renting this place out for parties and such.” The farmer nodded toward the olive pressing machinery. “We put all the equipment on these here rolling platforms so we can move it out when needed.”
“Is it available Friday, November twenty-seventh?” Josh asked.
“Let me go get the book.” He bustled out.
“You like this barn of mine,” Holly stated, because she could see that he did. “You can see its potential.”
“Definitely.”
The farmer returned, holding a big and dog-eared calendar. Computerized calendars had not, it seemed, made their way to the Texas Olive Oil Company. “What date did y’all say?”
“The twenty-seventh.”
“Shoot. It looks as though the barn’s already booked that night.”
“It is?” She was a Martinsburg insider. As far as she knew, this site had only been used for a few high-end events in the past several months, mostly corporate. She hadn’t once doubted its availability.
“It sure is. I’m real sorry about that.”
Josh appeared unperturbed as he shook the man’s hand. They both thanked him and set off for Josh’s car.
Holly took one last, heavily disappointed look back at the barn. Such an ideal setting! Drat, drat, drat. “I apologize, Josh. I should have asked over the phone whether this place was booked that night and saved us the trip. They just began to hold events here and hardly anyone knows about it. I thought this place was still a secret.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
They drove next to Holly’s second choice, a historic dance hall outside of town still used for the occasional visiting singer or county-western dance night.
Then on to Josh’s very unoriginal first choice, the country club. Thank goodness, the Ladies Golf Association already had it reserved the night in question. Lastly, they visited Josh’s second choice, a luxurious restaurant on the outskirts of town called the Lodge.
At each stop, Josh treated everyone with excellent good manners. He also took very little time to survey his options. Both the dance hall and the Lodge were available on the twenty-seventh, but he remained noncommittal.
“You don’t seem to be feeling the same urgency that I am about booking one of these places,” Holly commented as he steered the Range Rover toward downtown Martinsburg.
“I haven’t found what I want yet. I don’t like to settle.”
“Um, do you realize how particular Amanda can be?” Amanda would have wanted engraved rehearsal dinner invitations in the mail a week ago, minimum.
“I realize.” He smiled slightly, looking ahead at the road.
Holly considered that smile. Self-assured, unintimidated. “Very well then.” She refused to angst over the rehearsal dinner. She had her hands more than full already with wedding details.
It was enough that she’d started to accomplish today what she’d hoped for with Josh: a more upbeat ending to an important relationship that had ended on a huge downbeat the last time.
Their conversation had flowed easily enough and she’d come to feel mostly comfortable in his presence—which was above and beyond what she’d hoped for before he’d arrived in town. If their light interaction this afternoon felt shallow somehow, that was to be expected. Of course it felt shallow: it didn’t come close to addressing the magnetism, tension, and pain that lay between them.
During their last phone call before the breakup, they’d whispered words of love to each other. Now they were two independent adults in the latter half of their twenties, discussing things like whether a room had enough space for ten round-tops.
They drew near the north side of the Hollow. “Would you mind stopping by my parents’ house?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you remember Shadow?”