Chapter Eighteen
Hollie
I’m reading the romance novel featuring Coyote Maverick to Mrs Huxley, who is sat up in her chair. Turns out, it’s her favorite.
‘Mrs Huxley, I don’t think I can read you this bit. It’s a little too X-rated,’ I say with a giggle, but as my gaze skims down the page, I feel yet another ripple travel through me, my intimate muscles tightening, my core throbbing in delicious anticipation.
Tonight, I’m having sex with AJ Callahan.
All day, I’ve been walking around, my entire body tingling at the prospect, in a state of permanent arousal. This is going to be the longest day ever.
‘Oh, honey, the spice is the best part!’ Mrs Huxley exclaims, which sends me into a second round of giggles. There’s no way I’m reading some of this stuff out loud to a woman in her eighties.
‘Do you seriously want me to read it?’
Mrs Huxley lowers her voice. ‘Maybe skip that part, then leave the book on my nightstand when you’re done. I’ll read it on my own. In secret.’
We laugh at that.
The wait wouldn’t be so bad if I could tell someone about it. But I don’t know anybody at Sunset Pines well enough to confess that I haven’t had sex since I moved back to Canyon.
‘Did you have a lot of boyfriends when you were young, Mrs Huxley?’ I ask, trying to stop the questions from firing around my brain.
‘I had a couple,’ she begins, then lowers her voice. ‘But my Robert, he was the only man I ever went to bed with. That’s the way things were in them days.’
‘I think it’s romantic,’ I say.
‘My wedding night, I tell you, I did not have the darndest clue what I was doin’. But we got better with practice. These days… y’all just go on TikTok or whatnot for tips.’
I laugh along with her, but another shiver of sweet anticipation travels through my inner thighs.
‘Was he your first love?’ I ask.
‘First and only,’ she says. ‘I knew from the moment he spoke to me at church that this was the man I wanted to give my heart to. Hollie, you shoulda seen him… the way he could strut around in them cowboy boots.’
‘You make him sound like Coyote Maverick.’
‘Hollie. Coyote ain’t got nothin’ on my Robert, may the Lord rest his soul. But right now, Coyote’s about the closest thing I’m gonna get.’
When I exit Mrs Huxley’s room, Tawny comes racing up to me down the corridor in her uniform.
‘Why did you not tell me?’ she says in a weird whisper that comes out through gritted teeth.
I frown. ‘Tell you what?’
‘That your stepmom was comin’ here. Like, right now. With some kind of press junket.’
‘You mean here, now?’
‘I do! There’s even a goddamned cameraman!’
‘I swear to you I had no idea.’
I follow Tawny back to the reception area, my heart thudding inside my chest. Sure enough, Evelyn is in a power suit, being interviewed on camera about the quality of state-funded residential nursing homes, and how she plans on increasing city-wide funding.
Behind the camera are her lackeys, one scrolling on his phone, the other two listening diligently.
Did she choose Sunset Pines deliberately, knowing I would be here?
I look around the reception area. It doesn’t seem like my dad has accompanied her.
I could just get on with my day. Pretend I haven’t seen her and go and read Moby Dick to Mr Josephson, which was my plan anyway.
‘Thank you for your time, Madam Mayor,’ the interviewer is saying, shaking her by the hand. ‘That was perfect. I think we got just about everything we needed.’
She’s shaking him by the hand, flashing him her white Invisaligned teeth. I shrink back down the corridor but I’m too late. Over the reporter’s shoulder, she’s noted my presence.
‘Allow me to introduce my stepdaughter, Hollie,’ she says to him. ‘She’s a candy striper here.’
‘Oh!’ the reporter exclaims in surprise as Evelyn beckons me over. ‘I had no idea. Can we get some pictures?’
To my horror, one of my stepmother’s lackeys comes to grab me by my arm. The next thing I know, I’m being herded next to my stepmother in front of a handheld camera and blinded by an industrial flash.
Afterward, she doesn’t ask to meet any of the Sunset Pines staff. Tawny looks on almost in amusement, like my stepmother is a caricature.
Once the interviewer and cameraman have left, Evelyn stalks over to me and squeezes my arm above my elbow, digging her nails into my flesh. It hurts. ‘A word,’ she hisses in my ear, ‘Somewhere private.’
She offers everyone a tight-lipped, polite smile as I escort her to one of the living areas I know will be empty.
The moment I close the double doors behind us, the smile vacates her face.
‘Young lady, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at. Trying to embarrass me and your father outta spite.’
I let her words sink in. ‘It wasn’t my intention to embarrass anyone.’
‘By going out to Rapture? Of all places? What was your intention then? Knowing you would be seen there?’
‘I was invited.’
‘By whom?’
‘Some coworkers.’
‘Who would only have invited you knowing your presence there would probably end up on the news bulletin.’
I cross my arms over my chest. ‘I didn’t see it on the news, did you?’
She inhales audibly. She despises my defiance, because it’s one of those rare occasions I’ve not followed her rules.
‘I want you to promise me that you won’t go near Rapture ever again,’ she says. ‘You hear me, Hollie? Your father and I forbid you from going out there.’
It’s a moment before I say, ‘I’m not going to promise anything. You can’t stop me from living my life how I want.’
‘I can take away that apartment. Have you come live under my roof. What possible reason could a girl like you have to spend time in that place?’
I straighten a little. ‘I have high school friends who live there.’
‘Oh, friends you’ve failed to mention until this very moment. I think you went out there because you knew it would piss me off. And I don’t think you like me.’
I’m stunned. It’s not an inaccurate statement, but it’s the first time she’s accused me of not liking her to her face.
Ordinarily, I make a point of keeping my head down and complying with her wishes, if only to keep my father happy.
Ever since he told me they both want me out of the apartment, I’ve realized whose side he’s on, and it’s not mine.
‘I don’t like you. I don’t like that you married my father. And I don’t like you telling me what I can and can’t do.’
‘Then go back to England and let us get on with our lives in peace.’
Her words sting like a slap in the face, yet they’re not unexpected. That Evelyn wants me gone is no surprise. But to come to my place of work and put on a show, then berate me not in the presence of my father, feels like rubbing salt in a gaping wound.
‘Never ever go out to Rapture again,’ Evelyn breathes, jabbing one finger in my face before she stalks out of the room in her heels, leaving me standing all alone. It occurs to me that she didn’t even notice that most of the furniture in this room is falling apart at the seams.
At seven o’clock, in my apartment, I dim the lights. I’m trying to forget my conversation with Evelyn from earlier. I’ve waxed, plucked, showered, shaved, moisturized, washed my hair, redone my makeup and worn the nicest set of lingerie I own, with a plain shift dress over the top.
By seven-thirty, my knee is bouncing up and down and I’m on my second glass of wine. I put a film on to calm my nerves.
By eight o’clock, I’m pacing around the apartment. I’ve peered out the window into the night.
By nine o’clock, the movie is over. Some of the tealights have gone out. There’s a stinging sensation at the back of my eyeballs. My lip trembles but I do my best to hold the tears inside.
Only an idiot wouldn’t have taken his phone number. I have no way of checking where he is.
My eye makeup barely intact, a familiar sensation stirs in the pit of my belly. A memory, from high school, that I’ve tried but failed to forget. Realising, so often too late, that something was a prank and that I was last in on the joke.
Me sitting here alone? It feels like a prank.
In the bedroom, I slither out of my dress and toss it on the floor, replace it with a comfortable, dusky gray hoodie and Lycra yoga pants before I eat Ben he told me he didn’t give a shit and to sit my ass down.’
At the same time, he’s moved inside my apartment, put down his motorcycle helmet. I close the door and he takes both my hands in his.
‘I’m a piece of shit, I know. Hate on me all you want.’
I should scream at him. What time do you call this? Only right now I’m about as useful as a puddle on the floor. My smile is a little broken.
‘And we really need to exchange phone numbers,’ AJ says.
I laugh softly, then wipe my eyes. ‘We absolutely do.’
He leans in, kisses me long and slow. Liquid heat rushes south. How one man can turn me into a quivering, horny mess is beyond me.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks.
‘I’m fine,’ I squeak, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
‘Only you look like you’ve been crying.’
‘No,’ I lie. ‘I thought for a minute you’d stood me up.’
He tilts his head to one side, reaches up and wipes the damp skin under my right eye with the pad of his thumb. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he says softly.
‘I’m not mad. I just looked a lot nicer an hour ago. I was thinking about going to bed.’
His lips twitch. ‘Can I come?’
My breath hitches. I can’t look at him. I feel his fingers brush against mine.
‘Whatever you’re comfortable with,’ he adds when I say nothing.
I give a little nod of my head, then say ‘yes’ in a voice that’s barely audible.
We kiss for some time. At the same time, he removes his jacket, and it falls to the floor.
A moment later, I let him take me by the hand. When he enters my room, he takes in the sight of the candles. He leads me to the bed and I lower myself down.
AJ reaches up, pulls his T-shirt over his head. From his jeans’ pocket, he pulls four condom packets, dropping them without a word onto the linen. My stomach clenches, and I fist the sheets below my palms.
Gently, he lifts my chin, encouraging me to look at him, his knees positioned on either side of mine. ‘If you wanna stop at any time, you just tell me, okay? And we’ll stop.’
In the dim light, I nod again.
AJ takes a step back. Leaning down, he kicks off his boots and his socks follow. Then he walks to my ensuite, and within a moment, I hear the sound of water running.
When he re-emerges, I frown at him.
‘Are you taking a shower?’ I ask.
He holds out one hand.
‘No,’ he says. ‘We are.’