I stand to full height. “No, why?”
“I thought you may have raided her closet because I swear, she has that exact same nightgown.”
“Shut up,” I laugh out, looking down at my clothes. I’m in a light blue nightgown with tiny teapot prints. It covers the length of my arms and drops down to my ankles. It is a grandma nightgown and the absolute least sexy thing he could see me in, but it’s also insanely comfortable. “I’ve packed all my clothes already.”
“Right.” He nods once. “So you were just going to burn that before—”
“Who are you? The fashion police?”
He smiles, jerking his head to the side. “Let’s go.”
I look down at my clothes. “Um…”
“We’re not going far. And besides, I’ve already seen it. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t unsee it now.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a delight to be around?”
He nods. “Yep. Granny Eastwood tells me all the time.” He reaches into the RV and collects my flip-flops from just inside the door, then grabs my ankles to slip them on. I’d be lying if I said I felt nothing when he touches me, especially when he’s gentle like this. Comforting. Maybe that’s what Holden will forever be in my mind—a comforting memory of what I once had. When he’s done, he says, “Let’s go, Gladys.”
Once I’m on the ground with the RV closed behind me, I ask, “Where are we going?”
“Coming from a man who’s waited five years for you to show up, I have every right to say that you are incredibly impatient.” He leads me away.
“So many digs,” I murmur, walking beside him.
“Well, I do work with soil daily, so…” He eyes me sideways, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “I’m quite experienced with digging.”
“That’s…” I shake my head. “No.”
“You’re so hard to please,” he mumbles.
“Funny,” I retort. “You don’t seem to have a problem with pleasing me.” My entire face flushes the moment the words are out of my mouth, and Holden—he trips over his own feet, then quickly rights himself. He doesn’t say a word as we move through the barn, stopping just before the greenhouse. When he turns to me, I look away, embarrassed. It’s one thing to be thinking about Holden in that aspect, but to say it out loud… I feel like I’m seventeen again, trying to deny my feelings even though they’re already laid out for the world to see.
And there’s nothing wrong with having those feelings, even sharing them with him… it’s just—we both know we can’t act on it.
“You never asked me,” he says, and my eyes narrow in confusion.
“Asked you what?”
He takes a few steps to a panel on the wall with multiple switches. The first one he flicks dims the lights in the greenhouse, making it barely visible. The next sets off colored lights from the floor, illuminating the space in blended hues. But it’s the last switch that has me gasping—has my heart racing, my smile spreading, and my eyes widening like a kid on Christmas morning. Mists of water spray through the air, splitting the lights into tiny shards of color.
A giggle forms in my chest, and I don’t bother hiding it.
“You never asked me what my favorite childhood memory is,” he states, grabbing two of the biggest water guns I’ve ever seen from under a workbench. He hands me one, adding, “Whenever I was feeling a little low, my dad would set this up for me. The key is finding the hidden water balloons…” His smile is glorious as he turns his back to me, holding the water gun like a seasoned member of the military. “You got a twenty-second head start.”
I squeal, bouncing on my toes, and then I bolt, doing everything I can to keep my laughter restrained. I note the few water balloons as I pass them, then run past the lilies, the water fountain, and toward the ferns.
“Don’t hide behind the ferns,” he calls, his back still to me. “That’s the most obvious hiding spot!”
“Noooo!” I whine and hide behind the ferns anyway.
“Nineteen. Twenty! Ready or not… here I come!”
I stay as still as possible, my breathing labored, my heart jumping with excitement as I watch him through the gaps in the leaves. His steps are slow, his eyes shifting from side to side. I grip the gun tighter, my finger on the trigger.
Holden moves from one spot to the next, searching, while I press my lips tight, trying to silence my childish giggles.
“You know the first thing I did when I took over this place?” he asks, moving closer to me. He doesn’t find me, though. Instead, he sits down on the edge of the fountain, giving me a perfect view of his profile. He pulls out his phone, taps it a few times before saying, “I set up cameras everywhere…”
I step out from behind the ferns, my water gun pointed toward him. “That’s not fair!”
He rolls his eyes.
I press the trigger, but nothing happens. Then I shake it, hearing the water slush around.
Holden chuckles to himself, raising his gun and aiming it right at me. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you?”
I shake my head, eyes wide. “No.”
He stalks toward me, pumping part of the gun back and forth. I walk backward, trying to do the same, but before I can get a single sliding motion, a spray of water hits me directly in the chest. Holden’s so busy laughing he’s not prepared when I shoot him in the nose.
His spine straightens as he runs a hand down his entire face, his look of outrage bursting the bubble of laughter in my chest. “You better run, Regina.”
I don’t know how long we spend chasing each other, hiding behind shelves, ducking and weaving between plant displays. Occasionally, I’ll squeal with glee when I find a water balloon and throw it at him, only getting him half the time. He never misses when he aims one at me. We slip on the wet floor more times than I can count, our bursts of laughter merging, rolling into one. We snap stems off the larger plants as we brush past them, knock over pots, and roll around in the dirt. He doesn’t seem to care about any of it. And I can’t for the life of me recall the last time I’ve laughed like this, though I’m positive it was with him.
“Truce!” he calls out, and I rush behind an aisle of potted flowers, rest my back against it. With my gun to my chest, I take a few moments to catch my breath.
“Jamie!”
I push my damp hair away from my eyes and stay quiet.
“I’m out of ammo anyway!”
My water compartment is still half-full since I haven’t had many opportunities to get him. Clearly, he has an advantage over me. He could probably run through this space with his eyes closed and never hit a thing. I’ve barely stepped foot in here and keep running into dead ends. Add that to the dim lighting, and I’m screwed.
“Jamie?” he calls again, and I can tell that he’s moved, the sound of his voice nearer than before. I didn’t even hear the footsteps. Pulse pounding in my ears, I twist around, trying to look through the gaps of the aisles for him. I spot him just on the other side of the aisle and take one final breath before jumping to my feet and turning to him, water gun raised. I press the trigger, but I didn’t pump enough pressure into the unit, and water dribbles out of the end and onto the floor.