to be so gentle. And he was selfless, too, putting my life ahead of his own that night.
Of course, I wasn’t about to tell him that.
He flashed me a small smile, almost like he could read my thoughts, and then lifted my other wrist and he began the process all over again.
I glanced over at my cereal, long forgotten and turned to mush.
“You can make another bowl after I’m done,” he said, the words rumbling out of his chest as he worked.
“I can just stop on the way to the motel and get something.”
His eyes flashed up to mine. “Motel?”
I nodded. “I’ll stay at one until I’m able to get another place.”
“You can stay here.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I opened my mouth to give some kind of reply when he demanded, “Do you have a boyfriend?” The anger in his tone was surprising.
“No!”
He fell silent again as he finished up bandaging me. When he was done, he grasped my forearm up above the burns. “Katie, please stay here.”
I felt my insides caving. I looked away. If I couldn’t see the persuasion in his eyes, I wouldn’t be tempted. After all, I did feel safe with him and after everything that happened, feeling safe seemed really important.
He’s still a stranger . The sensible voice in my head reminded me.
For once in my entire life, I found myself not wanting to be sensible.
“Holt, I—”
He leaned forward, tugging on the collar of his button-down. “I like seeing you in my shirt.”
I liked wearing it. It was like being wrapped in his arms all the time.
He brushed his thumb across the fullness of my lower lip, his pupils dilating a bit on contact. From there, his thumb trailed over my jaw and down my neck, creating a charge of electricity between our skin. His hand tangled into the ends of my hair, and I knew he was going to kiss me.
And I was going to let him.
In fact, I kind of wished he would hurry up already.
Just as his lips descended upon mine, the doorbell rang. I jerked back like I got my hand caught in the forbidden cookie jar. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told me, and then he muttered the entire way to the door about bad timing.
It was kind of endearing.
He pulled open the door and I swear all the heat in the room was instantly sucked out to be replaced by an arctic wind.
“I’m busy,” Holt said in a cold tone that I never heard from him before and moved to shut the door on whomever was outside.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” A feminine voice came from the other side. “We both know you aren’t busy,” she said, pushing past him and stepping into the house.
Of course she was stunning. She had ultra-blond hair cut in a shoulder-skimming sleek bob, with not an ounce of frizz in sight. Her make-up was applied impeccably over skin that appeared to never see the harsh southern sun. She was tall and willowy, her movements graceful, and she was wearing short white tennis shorts and a hot-pink fitted polo with a pair of strappy sandals.
Compared to her, I looked like a troll. A short, frizzy troll full of bruises and bandages.
Her gaze landed on me instantly. I stood. “Hi—” I started, but she narrowed her eyes.
“Who the hell are you?”
Oh, I knew her kind. The kind of girl that thought she was queen bee of everything. Even if you were intimidated, you couldn’t show it because once someone like her smelled fear, it would all be over.
I lifted my chin. “Who the hell are you?” I countered.
Holt grinned and gave me a wink from over her shoulder. Then in a no-nonsense tone, he said, “This isn’t a good time, Taylor.”
Taylor was busy taking in an eyeful of my attire—or lack thereof. Her eyes met mine and a spiteful glint came into them. She sauntered across the carpet to stand in front of me, peering down her nose at me (I wasn’t about to lift my head
Of course, I wasn’t about to tell him that.
He flashed me a small smile, almost like he could read my thoughts, and then lifted my other wrist and he began the process all over again.
I glanced over at my cereal, long forgotten and turned to mush.
“You can make another bowl after I’m done,” he said, the words rumbling out of his chest as he worked.
“I can just stop on the way to the motel and get something.”
His eyes flashed up to mine. “Motel?”
I nodded. “I’ll stay at one until I’m able to get another place.”
“You can stay here.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I opened my mouth to give some kind of reply when he demanded, “Do you have a boyfriend?” The anger in his tone was surprising.
“No!”
He fell silent again as he finished up bandaging me. When he was done, he grasped my forearm up above the burns. “Katie, please stay here.”
I felt my insides caving. I looked away. If I couldn’t see the persuasion in his eyes, I wouldn’t be tempted. After all, I did feel safe with him and after everything that happened, feeling safe seemed really important.
He’s still a stranger . The sensible voice in my head reminded me.
For once in my entire life, I found myself not wanting to be sensible.
“Holt, I—”
He leaned forward, tugging on the collar of his button-down. “I like seeing you in my shirt.”
I liked wearing it. It was like being wrapped in his arms all the time.
He brushed his thumb across the fullness of my lower lip, his pupils dilating a bit on contact. From there, his thumb trailed over my jaw and down my neck, creating a charge of electricity between our skin. His hand tangled into the ends of my hair, and I knew he was going to kiss me.
And I was going to let him.
In fact, I kind of wished he would hurry up already.
Just as his lips descended upon mine, the doorbell rang. I jerked back like I got my hand caught in the forbidden cookie jar. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told me, and then he muttered the entire way to the door about bad timing.
It was kind of endearing.
He pulled open the door and I swear all the heat in the room was instantly sucked out to be replaced by an arctic wind.
“I’m busy,” Holt said in a cold tone that I never heard from him before and moved to shut the door on whomever was outside.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” A feminine voice came from the other side. “We both know you aren’t busy,” she said, pushing past him and stepping into the house.
Of course she was stunning. She had ultra-blond hair cut in a shoulder-skimming sleek bob, with not an ounce of frizz in sight. Her make-up was applied impeccably over skin that appeared to never see the harsh southern sun. She was tall and willowy, her movements graceful, and she was wearing short white tennis shorts and a hot-pink fitted polo with a pair of strappy sandals.
Compared to her, I looked like a troll. A short, frizzy troll full of bruises and bandages.
Her gaze landed on me instantly. I stood. “Hi—” I started, but she narrowed her eyes.
“Who the hell are you?”
Oh, I knew her kind. The kind of girl that thought she was queen bee of everything. Even if you were intimidated, you couldn’t show it because once someone like her smelled fear, it would all be over.
I lifted my chin. “Who the hell are you?” I countered.
Holt grinned and gave me a wink from over her shoulder. Then in a no-nonsense tone, he said, “This isn’t a good time, Taylor.”
Taylor was busy taking in an eyeful of my attire—or lack thereof. Her eyes met mine and a spiteful glint came into them. She sauntered across the carpet to stand in front of me, peering down her nose at me (I wasn’t about to lift my head
Similar Books
