3. Holly
THREE
HOLLY
“Here?” I turned my shocked eyes in Graham’s direction where he sat smugly in my car.
Embarrassment at driving him in my GMC Jimmy, a car that was older than me, fled as soon as Graham flung his body into the passenger seat, belted in, and said, “Bet this works great in the snow.”
There wasn’t a hint of judgment in his eyes, no pity. He hadn’t even hesitated to get into it, like it wasn’t too old, too run-down, and way too rusty for him.
He started giving me directions that were so quick there was barely room to speak about anything else until I was pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.
We weren’t just going out for dinner at a diner or pizza joint or regular close-to-campus American grill—we were at a steakhouse.
An expensive steakhouse.
“You can’t be serious.” How could he even afford this? We were college students, for crying out loud.
“Sure I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because the meals in this place cost more than my car is worth.”
Graham was still grinning that cocksure grin, and for the first time, I truly wanted to slap it off his face. What in the world was he thinking? That’d we’d work enough hours washing dishes and then be able to afford to eat here?
“That’s not true. Your car is definitely worth more than a dinner here.” He slapped the dashboard, and I was surprised it didn’t crack. “It’s sturdy. Runs great. Practically a classic.”
“Graham.” It was meant to be scolding.
His answering smile said he didn’t take it as such.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name, Holly. I like it. Come on, I’m starving, and stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”
I glanced at him, his expression so confident it edged on arrogance, and back to the restaurant. Outside, it didn’t look anything special. Dark wood and beams made it fit perfectly into the mountain-town vibe, but this was a place that hand-carved your steak at the table.
Just because I was poor didn’t mean I hadn’t heard of the place. Half of my high school’s senior class had come here for prom night and then spent the rest of the following week raving about the food.
It should have excited me to finally step inside, but I’d also heard they only took reservations.
“When did you make the reservation?” I asked Graham as he wrapped his hand around the door handle.
“What do you mean?”
“You need reservations to eat here. When did you make them?”
“Does it matter?”
It didn’t. And yet it did. For some reason, it really did. “Before or after you stalked me this morning?”
“Ah…” He wagged his finger at me. “Not stalking if I knew exactly where you’d be?—”
“Speaking of?—”
“And last night,” he stated, not letting me speak.
“Last night?”
“Yeah. I was hopeful. You hungry yet?”
Starving. The small chicken salad I’d scarfed down at the student union had worn off hours ago, but I was used to the ache of an empty stomach.
“I’m already regretting agreeing to this.”
Yet I opened the door and climbed out, and Graham reached me at the front of the Jimmy. He then led me to the door, opened it like a true gentleman, and when he gave his name to the hostess, her smile was soft and welcoming.
“Right this way. Your table is ready.”
She guided us toward the left, away from the open bar area. On the far left side of the entire restaurant sat an enormous bouquet of pale pink roses and baby’s breath, the bouquet so large it’d be impossible to see the person on the other side and entirely out of place with the worn wood tables, flickering faux candles as centerpieces, and tables already prepped with silverware wrapped with fabric napkins. A light jazzy instrumental music filtered through unseen speakers, and the dining area was lit by chandeliers hanging from the ceilings with warm, candle-looking light bulbs.
It was elegant. Woodsy. Romantic and warm.
And my heart dropped to the soles of my boots when the hostess stopped at that very table with the massive bouquet of flowers.
“Is this table acceptable for you, Mr. Marchese?”
Mr. Marchese? Who was this guy?
“Absolutely. And thank you so much for the help.”
She left, and while I’d heard the conversation, it was muffled behind the rushing roar of whatever the heck this was going through my mind.
I found the strength to lift my head and meet Graham’s gaze.
His hand rested on my lower back, and he gently guided me toward the booth’s seat.
“What is this?”
Stunned didn’t begin to describe my emotions. Or lack of them.
I woodenly collapsed into the booth and stared at the flowers. Graham must have been moved into the seat across from me because the flowers were pushed to the side, giving me a relatively decent view of him through the falling wisps of baby’s breath.
“What is this?” I repeated.
Graham leaned forward, elbows on the table, and clasped his hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Holly.”
My mouth dropped open, and I sucked in a lungful of air. “What?” I managed to ask, but it came out on a wheeze, then a cough.
Humor fled Graham’s face as concern replaced it. He stood, reaching across the table for me, but I threw myself back in my seat and shook him off with a hand.
“Don’t.” I coughed and then kept coughing while I forced my body to start working again. Forced my breaths to slow down. “I…what…?”
For once, Graham didn’t look so sure of himself. He glanced at the flowers and pushed out his lips before looking at me again.
“It’s Valentine’s Day. I thought you’d like them.”
I gaped at him and then truly looked at him, and my shoulders fell. I didn’t have the heart to ask him what he was thinking or question him again.
He looked almost crushed that I hadn’t fallen over myself to thank him. “They’re beautiful,” I admitted. “I’m not used to such nice things. And I didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day.”
With his head tilted to the side, that curly lock of hair flopped into his eye, and slowly, his lips spread into a grin. “Then I’m glad I could give that to you, and trust me, I was hoping you hadn’t realized what today was. Figured that would have sent you running.”
“If I did, would you have known where I was running to?”
He chuckled then and shook his head. “Probably not.”
“So there are some things that you don’t know about me.”
He leaned back in his chair and flashed that cocksure grin. “Hopefully not for long.”
* * *
Dinner was a strange mix of awkward silences, smooth conversation, and the most incredible food I’d ever tasted. My steak was so delicious I would have dreams about it, and Graham gave me another surprise by adding lobster tails to our entrées, something I’d never considered ever ordering. I’d never been in a restaurant where it was on the menu. My salad had almost forty topping options to choose from, and the entire dinner was an experience. If I were the kind of girl who journaled every major experience in her life, I’d record this one in detail.
It was Graham who kept the conversation flowing, and while he shared bits and pieces of himself, I got the sense he was keeping it pretty surface level, which helped me do the same.
I told him why I was a finance major—because of the stability. He told me he’d played hockey his entire life, had loved his high school coach, and wanted to inspire others the way he’d been inspired. Science came easy for him, so that’s why he majored in it. It was hard not to feel a twinge of something warm when he talked about coaching. Most of the guys I met either had no direction in their lives, had no desire to make a better life for themselves than where they came from, or had dreams of playing professional sports, and that was all they talked about.
The comfort I felt through it all slithered beneath my walls. Somehow, slowly, his easy manner and mildly flirtatious smiles and teasing disarmed me. I blamed him for why I found myself asking the one question I never asked simply because I never wanted to have to answer it.
“What about your parents? What’s your family like?”
The words were out before I could suck them in faster than I’d eaten my ribeye.
“They’re parents.” He shrugged, but the softness in his eyes told the truth.
“Good ones?”
Why was I continuing this? At some point, these questions would come right back around to me, and then the ease of the night would drop like a weighted balloon.
“They’re old, overprotective, and also, I guess, kind of great.”
Kind of great. I got the sense he was minimizing how much he liked them in the same way Tracey tended to do when she was around me. Like because I had such crappy ones, she was loath to talk about how much she liked hers. This was the same hesitancy, but the guy had seen me kicked out of a bar and berated by a grown man, so he had to know mine weren’t the best.
I wasn’t even quite sure I cared. I never had before. I’d spent my entire life being judged by my parents’ actions, but that was Deer Creek, and the judgment typically stayed there.
I didn’t need more gossip or news about me spreading. I was still putting last year’s local headlines behind me, and thankfully I’d been able to go mostly unnoticed on campus.
“Can I ask you something?” Graham asked.
“You can ask anything you want.”
“But you might not answer?”
“It’s always a risk.” I grabbed my water with lemon and took a sip. Ice cubes clinked against my teeth, making me shiver from the sudden cold sensation.
“You knew that guy at the bar that night.”
Of course he’d bring up Mick. The chill from the ice spread further through my veins. I should have remembered this was coming, yet I’d been so focused on dodging questions about my family, I’d forgotten how we’d met.
“That’s not a question,” I teased and tried to keep it light, but inside, my heart was racing.
This was it. The last of my free meals.
Graham chuckled and shoved his floppy hair out of his face. “He didn’t seem to like you very much. I’m just wondering how that’s possible.”
It still wasn’t quite a question, but at least there was an easy answer to this. At least a rumor of it. And if he didn’t know why I was hated, then he hadn’t looked into me any further than my school and work schedule. “There’s a rumor in town that way back when, Mick wanted my mom, and she chose my dad instead. He’s carried a grudge ever since.”
Considering Mom took off, and Dad became a drunk and refused to let me talk about her, I was never able to get his perspective on that rumor, but since Mick had seemingly hated me since the day I was born, it made sense.
“Wow. That seems like a long time to hold that kind of grudge.”
The fact that Mom disappeared made it stranger, but my guess was that Mick was arrogant and delusional enough to believe that if Mom had chosen him, she would have stuck around.
“Mick’s that kind of guy.” I gave a halfhearted shrug. He’d seen the man.
“And you’re from Deer Creek, then.”
“Born and raised. Still live there.”
“You commute?”
“Doesn’t make much sense to pay to live closer when it’s twenty minutes away.” Tuition wasn’t the largest cost of going to college, and my loans were going to be more manageable now that I wasn’t. But man, the day I’d had to move back to Deer Creek had been depressing. Felt like such a step backward.
As long as I didn’t stay stuck backward, then I was okay with it being temporary.
My phone rang, buzzing against my hip where it was next to me on the booth. I ignored it, but Graham glanced in that direction. “Do you need to get that?”
“The only calls I get are spam callers.”
“And me.” He smirked.
I rolled my eyes as my phone stopped. “And you, and see? Silent now.”
It immediately started vibrating again, though, and this time, knowledge of who it could be sent a rush of ice picks to my head, giving me an instant headache. “Crap,” I muttered and rubbed my forehead.
“So people do call you.”
“No one I want to talk to.” I picked up my phone, checked the caller, and sighed. Of course it was him. My dad, calling from prison. Probably demanding more money as if I had piles of it lying around to spare.
Graham’s brows rose. I was beginning to think the man had a sixth sense because it seemed like he knew I wouldn’t talk about this. Like he could see my pulse racing, thumping in my ears and my inner wrists. “So then it’s not just me you avoid.”
A burst of laughter came through me, breaking my anger and fear and worry like a snap. “No.” I shook my head. “I suppose it’s not just you I avoid.”
I was saved from further talking about it when the waitress came. I tucked my phone into my coat pocket so I wouldn’t hear it vibrate again. Graham pulled out a credit card from his wallet, handing it to her without bothering to look at the check.
When she was gone, I asked, “Are your parents going to be okay with this? The meal, I mean?”
“Yeah. Of course. That’s why my dad gave it to me.”
“He gave you a credit card so you could take girls out to eat? Sounds like an interesting Dad.”
“No.” He laughed. “My dad gave it to me for emergencies.”
“And I’m an emergency?”
“Getting to know you is, yeah.”
Wow. He had all the right words, all the right jokes, and his flirtatious banter was top-notch. It was almost too easy to trust him and equally easy to believe he used all these lines on every other girl who threw herself in front of him. With his looks and personality, I assumed they were lined up.
“I’m not sure if I should trust you or run in the opposite direction,” I admitted.
Graham leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I don’t ask for trust from a lot of people. I’m used to people abusing it, but if you gave me yours, I can promise you I wouldn’t betray that or take it for granted.”
His stern expression had me melting. Maybe he wasn’t the player I thought he was. There was something so endearing about him, something that made me want to take the risk.
“Why me?” I asked.
An edge of his lips quirked up. “Why not you?”