Josh hadn’t mentioned to Ben, his best friend, the groom, that they’d been scouting venues for the past several days?
“Should we go ahead and order dinner—” Josh said at the exact moment that Holly said, “We’ve been driving around town looking for rehearsal dinner sites together—”
Ben regarded Holly with confusion, then placed his palm on his chest. “What? For my rehearsal dinner?”
“Yes,” Holly answered slowly.
“Amanda’s excited about having it out at the Texas Olive Oil Company,” Ben said. “It’s going to be awesome. Can’t wait.”
“The Texas Olive Oil Company?”
“It’s up north of town. They have a barn.” Ben pushed to his feet. “Excuse me for minute. A buddy of mine from work just came in.”
He left, leaving Holly alone with Josh. The two young women sitting on Josh’s far side cut disgruntled looks in her direction, letting her know they weren’t pleased with her for hogging the attention of Martinsburg’s most eligible visitor.
“I booked the Olive Oil Company,” he said calmly.
“But someone else already had it reserved.”
“It was reserved by a group who were planning to hold a charity fund-raising meeting there. Turns out they were willing to move their meeting back a week in exchange for a sizeable donation to their charity. Look, I . . . I’m sorry you found out about it this way. I should have let you know sooner that I’d booked a location.”
“No, it’s okay.” She refused to feel hurt. She wasn’t the event’s cohost. She was just the person who’d offered up some venue suggestions. “When did this happen?”
“Recently.”
“All expertly arranged by your assistant, I’m guessing.”
A lazy smile started on one side of his mouth and grew. The sight of it warmed Holly in ways that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. “Exactly,” he said.
“That’s wonderful.” It was wonderful. The Olive Oil Company barn couldn’t have been a more perfect location. But this development also meant that she and Josh had lost the one pursuit that connected them. She swallowed against a foolish sense of disappointment. “If you recall, the Olive Oil Company was my very first choice.”
“I recall.”
“So what this means is that you went with my choice.” She smiled.
“You’re obviously very gifted with both weddings and rehearsal dinners.”
“Obviously.”
“How are you with caterers?”
She paused. Was he asking her for more help? “How am I with choosing a caterer? Inexperienced.”
“My assistant has already chosen a caterer.”
“Of course.”
“I’m wondering how you are with choosing a caterer’s menu?”
“You mean to tell me that your assistant didn’t already select the rehearsal dinner menu?”
“She lives in Paris and is unavailable to sample dishes.”
“I’m relatively experienced at sampling dishes. Sam and I have been to more than ninety of Martinsburg’s restaurants since January.”
“Then you’re more than qualified.”
“You’re more than qualified, Josh. You’ve probably eaten at the finest restaurants on every continent. You don’t need my help.”
“No,” he said bluntly, “I do.”
He had a tiny scar on his jaw from a bike riding accident when he was a kid. She could remember kissing the spot.
She could not go gooey over him! If only he wasn’t so distractingly handsome. If only he’d quit looking at her so intently. It made her feel . . . lovely, when she wasn’t. “You don’t need my help.” Her voice came out confidently, loyally covering her internal weakening. “You didn’t need my help with the rehearsal dinner location either, it seems.”
“I might not need your help, but I want it.”
She was playing with fire! She should turn him down. More contact between them was not wise.
“Please,” he said.
She caved. “All right. I don’t really have the willpower to turn down”—more time with you—“a trip to a caterer’s shop to sample delicious food.”
“Good. Now that I think about it, we’ll probably have to go twice. Once to select appetizers and salads and once to select entrees and desserts.”
Ben returned to his bar stool, breaking the bubble for two she and Josh had created. All the sounds and colors of the bar rushed back. “I’ll be in touch,” Josh said.
“See you guys soon.” She made her way to the booth and slid in next to Sam.
“What’s something we can say to each other in honor of the German heritage of this restaurant?” Sam asked.
Rob slid down slightly in his booth seat and gave them a mock scowl. “For the record, I think it’s goofy when y’all do that.” He’d been to several of their Year of Restaurants meals.
“It’s so much more fun when we have someone here to find us goofy,” Sam insisted. “My husband is home mopping the kitchen floor—”
“—being perfect—” Holly noted.
“—so you’re all we have, Rob.”
“Guten appetite?” Holly ventured, holding up her water glass.