Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
HOLDEN
S omeone is trying to kill me by jackhammer to the goddamn head. My whole body hurts, and it tastes like I ate a skunk.
“Fuuuuuuck.”
“Wake up.”
Suddenly, I’m sprayed with cold water, and I slit one eye open. Staring back at me with a frown on her face is my former favorite sister, Charlie.
“Stop it.” I think I said those words, but it might have just been a grunt.
“What the hell did you do last night?” she demands before spraying me in the face again.
It actually feels kind of good.
“Not a cat,” I remind her before scrubbing my hand over my face.
“I woke up to my brother sacked out on my couch, smelling like beer and bad choices. Tell me you walked here.”
“Yep.” I try to pull myself onto the edge of the couch in a sitting position, but then fall back over on my side. “Kill me. Please. If you ever loved me, just fucking kill me.”
“Aww, poor baby.” She squirts me again, and I just snort. “Get up. Who did you drink with last night?”
“Don’t know.” I bury my face in a throw pillow, but Charlie wraps my hair around her fingers and yanks me up. “Hey! Stop that.”
“You deserved a night of debauchery. I should be glad there’s not a naked woman draped all over you.”
That makes me snort again. I’ve never done that to my baby sister.
“But now debauchery time is over, and you need to sober up.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Too damn bad. Come on, I’ll make you coffee and some pancakes to sop up the leftover beer. Jesus, go take a shower, will you? You smell like a dumpster.”
“Don’t wanna.”
I can hear her rolling her eyes as she storms away, and I decide that a shower doesn’t sound too horrible. On my way over here last night, I had the foresight to grab my go-bag out of my truck. I pick it up and take it into the bathroom with me, and thirty minutes later, I’m sitting at Charlie’s table, scarfing down pancakes and coffee.
I might still be just a little drunk.
“We have to talk about it,” Charlie begins, and I close my eyes. “If you say don’t wanna , I’ll punch you in the face. You’re too hungover to fight me off.”
“You didn’t used to be this violent. I raised you better than that.”
“And you didn’t used to be this drunk . God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wasted.”
Because I don’t usually drink more than two beers at any given time. My dad was a filthy drunk, and I won’t go down that road.
But I needed it last night. And I don’t regret it.
Wait.
An image of Millie, her eyes full of hurt and anger, flashes through my mind, and I clench my jaw, hating myself as my stomach twists into freaking knots.
I guess I have one regret.
“Holden, we have to talk about the terms of the will.”
“It just is what it is, Charlie. I’ll figure it out and make sure you four get the money that’s coming to you. We all know that the ranch should be split five ways.”
“No, it shouldn’t.”
Her eyes soften when I glare at her.
“Holden, the four of us have moved out of there. We don’t work the ranch, and none of us really has a desire to. You do. Hell, you’ve done more out there than Dad ever did for years. You hire the guys, and you keep the cattle healthy. You are the ranch. The only reason it’s worth a dime is because you didn’t let Dad ruin it.”
Because I didn’t want to see it fail. I didn’t want to watch a hundred-year-old legacy go into the shitter.
“Doesn’t matter. It should be split five ways, and Dad was a prick for what he did to you four.”
“Dad was just a prick. Full stop.” She shrugs a shoulder and pops a bite of pancake into her mouth. “Do you really have to get married? That feels so…dramatic.”
And at that thought, I push away my plate, no longer hungry.
“If I want to keep the ranch and make sure you’re all taken care of? Yeah. I do.”
She sighs and pushes her fingers through her blonde hair. “Holden, it’s not that we don’t all want to see you settle down with someone awesome and have a million babies. We totally do. But there is no way that we want you to marry some random girl just for the inheritance.”
“She’s not random.” The words slip out before I can keep my mouth shut, and Charlie’s eyes widen.
“Who the hell is she, then? I didn’t know that you were dating anyone.”
I shake my head and stand up from the table. I can’t tell my sister my plan. It wouldn’t make any sense to her. Hell, it barely makes sense to me.
And the woman in question very well might tell me to go fuck myself.
In fact, that’s likely how this will go, so there’s no use in getting anyone’s panties in a twist.
“I have a plan, okay? You just have to trust me.” And I might as well get this plan underway, since I’m still a tiny bit buzzed, and if ever there was a time to do it, it’s now.
Before I lose all the liquid courage I worked so hard for last night.
“I hate being out of the loop.” Charlie lets out a forlorn sigh. “So, tell me everything as soon as you can.”
“I can do that.” I kiss her on the head as I pass by, heading toward the front door. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night.”
“I didn’t even know you were here,” she reminds me. “I woke up to you passed out on my couch.”
“Thanks anyway.” I toss her a smile and then leave, headed for Bitterroot Valley Coffee Co. to try to have a conversation with the most beautiful woman in the world.
She’ll probably kick me out on my ass after what happened last night. How was I supposed to know that she was waiting around to give me a ride home? Millie avoids me like the plague. As Dad got older and sicker, I got braver, flirting with her and bringing her flowers when she bought the coffee shop. Little things.
And every once in a while, she’d drop her guard enough to laugh or smile.
But then those walls would slam back into place, and I’d be iced out again.
Then I go and fuck up a kind gesture from her because I was drunk and horny and way more clever in my head than what came out of my mouth.
Fuck.
When I pass by my truck, still parked outside of The Wolf Den, I toss my bag into the back seat and then keep going on foot to the coffee shop.
But when I get there, there’s a sign on the door.
Dear Customers:
So sorry, we are closed today. We will be back tomorrow!
-Millie
What the fuck? What’s wrong? Jesus, did something happen to her last night after she left the bar? Is she hurt? An image of my girl hurt, in a hospital bed, flashes through my mind, and I’m now stone-cold fucking sober.
I head off toward Millie’s apartment. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve been sure to know everything there is to know about my wild rose over the past eight years.
I’ve simply done it from a distance.
Taking the stairs up to her apartment two at a time, I pound on her door with the back of my fist.
There’s no movement inside as I pace back and forth outside of the door, so I bang again.
Where is she? Shit, I could call the hospital. I can’t call her brothers; they wouldn’t tell me. I’m lucky they didn’t kill me eight years ago. They would have, if Millie had confided in them.
Finally, I hear the deadbolt turn, and Millie opens the door, looking sleep rumpled, with messy hair and a crease down her cheek from her pillowcase. She’s wearing a silky pink robe held closed by just a small silky belt.
I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want this woman.
“There is not enough coffee or fucks for this.” She scowls and scratches her head. “What the fuck are you doing here? Wait, is this a nightmare?”
The door next door opens, and a gray-haired woman pokes her head out, scowling at me.
“Hi, Hazel,” Millie says with a forced smile. “Everything is fine here.”
Hazel gives me the stink eye before she closes her door.
“Well?” Millie demands. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?” Every nerve ending is on high alert. Do I want to go into Millie’s place, where I’ll be consumed by her smell, her essence? No. Not really. It’ll be just another slash to my heart.
But I have to talk her into helping me. For the sake of my sisters, I don’t have a choice.
“That would be a fuck no. ” She moves to close the door, but I prop my hand on it, stopping her.
“Please. I just need ten minutes, and then you can kick me out on my ass.”
She rolls her eyes and steps away from the door, walking barefoot through her living room, wrapped only in that robe sent from heaven.
But I stop just inside the closed door and scowl.
The living room is full of moving boxes. There’s no furniture in here at all, just the boxes marked Kitchen and Linens and Lingerie .
I linger on the lingerie box for a second and then focus on the woman in the kitchen.
“Where the hell are you moving?” I demand, watching as Millie pops a coffee pod into her coffee maker and presses a button. My voice isn’t raised, but even I can hear the steel in it.
“Nunya,” she says with a yawn and pulls some cream out of the fridge, giving it a little shake.
Nope. Not acceptable.
I march through the small living space until I’m on the other side of the island from her and lean on my hands.
“Where. Are. You. Going?”
She keeps that bland look on her beautiful face, but I see her pulse pick up in her neck as she turns, and her eyes find mine.
“Holden—”
“Goddamn it, Millie, answer the question.”
“Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I’m moving into Polly’s old place a few blocks away. Jesus, I’m not going anywhere. Calm yourself.” Her coffee finishes brewing, and she turns to pour some cream into it, takes a sip, and closes her eyes. “Someone should be here in about thirty minutes to pick up my bed. Sold it.”
“You sold your bed ?”
“Hmm.” She takes another sip. “I only want to move boxes. Now that we’ve had this charming early-morning conversation, would you please explain to me what you’re doing here, waking me up at this ungodly hour on my day off?”
“I thought someone was coming to get the bed in a half hour?”
“ Holden. ”
I’ve reached the end of her patience, so I hold my hands up in surrender.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. Jesus, I didn’t practice what I was going to say. My stomach is suddenly in my throat, and every word I know has vanished from my brain.
“Whoa, are you in trouble?” Her voice has softened, and she’s watching me warily, and I feel like an absolute asshole.
I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve for her to agree to help me. I don’t deserve even one word of kindness from her after the shit I did to her.
But I have to ask her.
“Kind of,” I admit and start to pace in front of the island. “Listen, I don’t know how to do this, so I’m just going to lay it all out on the line, tell you everything, and hope to God you don’t try to cut off my balls.”
“No promises.” She presses her lips to the rim of her mug and sips her coffee. I’ve never wanted to be a mug so badly in my life.
“We had the will reading yesterday, as you know.” Her eyes narrow as she sips more coffee. “My asshole of a father left my sisters each ten thousand dollars.”
“ What ?”
“And the rest of everything else to me. With some conditions.”
“What conditions?” She’s openly scowling now, listening.
“Well, one condition, really. I have to get married.”
“Man, sucks to be you. Wait, he can do that?”
“And I have to stay married for one year.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me all of this.” She shakes her head. “I don’t really have any single friends to hook you up with.”
“ Millie. ” She frowns at me, and I want to kiss the fuck out of her. “Let me finish.”
“Okay.”
“I have to stay married for a year, at which time everything fully transfers to me, and I can finally make things right for my sisters. I can divvy up the money, give them land, all of that stuff. But I can’t do any of it until after the year is up.”
“Ooooookay,” she says, drawing out the word. “I mean, that’s pretty harsh. All of it. I’m sorry for your sisters. I actually like them. But I don’t see?—”
Her eyes widen.
The blood drains out of her gorgeous face.
I have to rush around to grab the mug before it goes crashing to the floor.
“No.” Jesus, she sounds horrified. Not great for my ego, but also not a surprise.
“Listen—”
“Have you lost your mind ?” She’s shaking her head, pacing away from me in that thin robe. Is she naked under there?
Jesus, my heart can’t take this.
“Under no circumstances did you just show up here to ask me if I’d help you out with your inheritance by marrying you. ”
“I know it’s not exactly a romantic proposal.”
“Oh, my God!” She flings her arms out, and the belt of her robe comes a little untied, and yep.
She’s fucking naked.
She hurries to cover herself and glares at me. If she could shoot fishing knives out of her eyes, I’d be a dead man right now.
“You fucking crushed me, Holden Lexington. You destroyed me, completely shredded me. You were mean and cruel, and I’ve hated you for years. And now, you want me to help you by marrying you?”
I prop my hands on my hips and lower my head, looking at the floor, feeling each of those words like a jab to the heart.
I know it. I know I did those things to her, but for fuck’s sake, it was to protect her. To protect Charlie. I didn’t have a goddamn choice in the matter, and she wasn’t the only one that was destroyed because of it. Not that I could tell her that.
“There is no one else in this world that I would even consider marrying,” I admit softly before lifting my gaze back up to hers. “There is no one else, Millie.”
Her jaw drops. Her gorgeous eyes are round, and that pulse in her throat is beating the tempo of “Mambo Number Five.”
“And if it wasn’t for my sisters, I would never ask you.”
“This isn’t fair,” she whispers, her voice cracking as a tear slips onto her cheek. Christ, I don’t want her to cry. Rail at me, hit me, but don’t cry. “To put this on me. It isn’t fair.”
“I know.” I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to pull her to me and hold her, to tell her how sorry I am, and explain everything that happened all those years ago, but I know that my touch wouldn’t be welcome right now, and I don’t know that she would believe the story anyway. “It’s not fair, not even a little bit, but it’s the only chance I have to take care of them. Please don’t say no right now. Don’t give me an answer right away. Think on it, Mill.”
I hold my hands out, and her eyes cut over to my arm. I’m in a T-shirt today, and the sleeve has moved up on my biceps.
Higher than she’s seen in, well, years.
On purpose.
Her gaze sweeps up the grayscale tattoos on my arm until they freeze on the pink flower high on my biceps.
My stomach drops.
Her eyes narrow.
The flowers are the only thing in color, standing out from the rest of the grayscale tattoos on the sleeve.
“Holden.” The tears have dried up, but her voice shakes, and I know this isn’t going to be good.
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
“Is that—” She breaks off, and when tears fill her eyes again, she blinks and swallows. “Is that a?—”
“Wild rose? Yeah. It is.”
“Get out of my house.” Her face is mutinous, angrier than I’ve ever seen her. This was not the reaction I was expecting.
There’s a knock at the door before I can say anything else, and Millie rushes over and yells, “Hold on! Be right there!”
Then she jogs around me, on her way to what I assume is the bedroom.
“I want you out of here,” she says, pushing the tip of her finger into my chest. “Now.”
Once she’s closed the door of her bedroom, I turn to leave. There’s no way she’s going to agree to help me. As much as I see some longing in her eyes, some of the chemistry we’ll always share, there’s also contempt and anger. So much fucking anger.
I’m going to have to figure out another way. Maybe I can hire my own attorney to contest the will. I don’t know if it’ll help, but I can try.
When I open the door of the apartment, I find Bridger Blackwell standing there with a smile. When he sees that it’s me, that smile fades. His oldest brother, Brooks, climbs the stairs behind him.
“Hey, Holden,” Bridger says with a confused frown, just as rage begins to course through my blood. “What are you doing here?”
“I’d like to ask you the same fucking question.”