Like You Love Me (Honey Creek 1)

He looks down out of the corner of his eye. His lips twitch as he reaches for my hand.

I hold my breath as I place mine into his, which is huge in comparison, easily covering my palm with his own. It’s muscled and strong, but also gentle. So different from when he tugged me along behind him when we were kids, or held me down until I said boys were better than girls, way back then. But for some reason, just like I did years ago, I feel safe with my hand in his.

How did that freaking happen?

He laces our fingers together and gives me a gentle squeeze.

“Now,” Mr. Cates says, “if you’ll face each other.”

We do as instructed.

Holding the bouquet of flowers to my chest with my free hand, I look at Holden.

“Do we have the rings?” Mr. Cates asks.

My cheeks flame as I bite down on my bottom lip. Shit! I drag in a lungful of air, my brain spiraling.

“We’re not exchanging rings,” I say. “It’s not really our thing.”

Holden clears his throat. “I have one for Sophie.”

“You do?” I ask, whipping my face to his.

“I do.” He pulls something out of his pocket but keeps it hidden in his palm so I can’t see it.

“I . . .” I shake my head to somehow clear out the confusion. “How did you . . .”

How in the heck did he get a ring? Or did he get a ring? Is it really an ode to the candy ring he used before?

Either way, I have no idea how he found the time but kind of love that he did.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says sweetly. “We’re ready, Mr. Cates.”

The judge licks his finger and then swipes a page in the book he’s holding.

“Holden, repeat after me,” Mr. Cates says. “I, Holden Marcus McKenzie, take thee, Sophia Louisa Bates, to be my wedded wife.”

Holden repeats the words easily, his voice strong and smooth. While he vows himself to me forever, I just pray my palm isn’t sweaty.

Adrenaline soars through me as he holds my left hand in the air. He opens his palm.

“Holden,” I breathe, unable to believe what I’m seeing.

Gramma’s wedding ring? The champagne diamond shines under the bright lights where it’s nestled against Holden’s skin.

As the oldest granddaughter, Liv got Gramma’s ring. She never offered it when I married Chad, and I didn’t ask for it, although I desperately wanted it. It was the only piece of jewelry I ever remember Gramma wearing, and she wore it long after Grandpa died. She was so proud of that ring, and Liv was so proud to have it too.

I look up at Holden with a million questions as he slips it on my finger. My throat constricts so tightly that I have a hard time breathing.

“This is so much better than a Ring Pop,” I say quietly.

Holden’s chuckle is low and deep and resonates through my body. He squeezes my hand.

“Sophie, repeat after me,” Mr. Cates says.

I regurgitate everything asked of me without really listening. My brain buzzes and misfires, my body humming as I take in everything happening around me. Holden watches quietly, almost stoically, as I profess my love forever and ever.

My brain tunes out my voice. It refuses to hear myself lying out loud. In place of the vows, my mind keeps reminding me that this will be over in a few weeks.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a ring,” I say when it would be time for me to put one on his finger. “I didn’t think . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t need a ring. An animal will just shit all over it, anyway.”

Just like that, I’m brought back to reality, and I laugh.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Tennessee, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” Mr. Cates says.

Haley takes my bouquet to free both my hands. She wrinkles her nose in excitement as she moves behind me.

A rush of goose bumps breaks out across my skin as Holden takes both of my hands in his. Fire shoots through my chest and limbs, coalescing in my core. My lips part so that I can drag in more air and not pass out.

Holden lowers his lips slowly to mine. Every inch that he moves closer causes my heart to beat faster. I close my eyes as his mouth hovers over mine, and—

“Haley!”

My eyes fly open as Holden jerks back. We all look toward the door, where the tattooed hottie from earlier is standing.

“Oops,” he says. “Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

“Just a freaking wedding, Penn,” Haley says, reaching out and smacking him on the forearm. “What do you want?”

“I need help picking out these bulbs. Meredith wants something pink, naturally, and she said these would be yellow. They are not acceptable—her words, not mine.”