"What?"
"You are not subtle."
"I'm extremely subtle." She pauses. "Does it matter? He's going to be around. I'm providing context."
I'm saved from responding to the context by Justin emerging from the main lodge in a chef's coat with the energy of a man who has developed strong feelings about braised short ribs and intends to share them. Not for the first time, I think about how lucky Holly is. Justin is not only the best partner for her, with just the right amount of Daddy Dom, but he’s also the definition of Golden Retriever, green flag waving man.
Dinner is the four of us, and although part of me wishes it was Anthony joining us, it’s not. It’s me, Holly, Justin and his business partner Marco, who is immediately my favorite person in Colorado because he refills wine glasses before you notice they're low and laughs at his own stories before the punchline. He’s easy to talk to and makes me feel at home.
The mushroom risotto arrives and I'm in the middle of having a moment with it when the door opens.
My stomach does something immediate and involuntary.
I know it's him before I finish turning around. I'm not examining that.
He's changed from the canvas work jacket into dark wool, a collar visible above it, jeans that fit in the specific way of someone who isn't thinking about them. Hair still a little overgrown but he’s tamed it neatly. Still carrying that same unhurried, presence, like ‘he arrived at the destination before he started the journey’ quality to him.
He stops when he sees me.
Not for long. Half a second, maybe. But I catch it. Our eyes meet before he looks away.
"Anthony." Justin's already on his feet, clasping his hand. "Wasn't sure you'd make it tonight."
"Got the calf settled and came straight over. Had paperwork on the reindeer transport anyway." He glances at me, and there's that unclassifiable look again. "Small mountain."
"Very small," I agree.
Justin looks between us. Holly is looking at her risotto with the focused attention of someone who has been waiting for this exact moment and is now pretending she hasn't. I see her small smirk and will definitely rib her about it later. Much later. When it’s just the two of us.
"You've met?" Justin says. Interesting. Didn’t Holly mention the accident to him? Maybe she hasn’t had the chance yet.
"On the road." Anthony pulls out the chair across from me. "She stopped for the elk."
"Those roads can be tricky without an injured elk on it," Justin says.
"She handled the situation well." Anthony meets my eyes briefly, and I get the ghost of that almost-smile. "How's the risotto?"
"Outstanding," Marco says. "Anthony, tell Paulo that the chef's table concept is —"
And the conversation expands the way good dinner conversations do when everyone at the table is comfortable with each other. Justin and Marco argue cheerfully about the restaurant concept. Holly steals bites off Justin's plate while pretending she's not. Anthony doesn't talk a great deal, but then again, he doesn't seem to need to, but when he does, the room orients toward him without him doing anything deliberate to cause it.
He refills my water glass without my asking.
That's just good manners. That's nothing.
I'm staring at his hands again.
Stop staring at his hands.
When Holly excuses herself to deal with an issue, and the men start talking finances, I scroll through the reindeer photos on my phone, professionally, for content planning purposes, this is a work trip after all, when I notice he's watching me.
"Working?" he asks.
"Occupational hazard." I turn the phone so he can see. "I'm a travel blogger. Also technically a travel agent, but the content side is where the momentum is right now." I click to the next photo. "Your reindeer are extremely photogenic."
"They're aware." He looks at the photo, then at me. "What kind of content?"
"Luxury travel. Unique experiences. The kind of thing you can't get from a generic search." I pause. "Which is harder lately. Because of —"
