Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
MILLIE
H oly. Shit. What in the hell kind of alternate universe did I just wake up in?
I have to lean on the door of my bedroom, hand pressed to my chest as I will my galloping heart rate to slow down. Bridger and Brooks are waiting for me, and I’m hiding in here, having an existential crisis up against this door.
“I don’t have time for this.” I march over to the last open moving box and pull out the clothes I set aside to wear today, dump my robe inside of it, and close the flap.
After I dress, I brush my hair and tie it up in a loose messy bun, wash my face, brush my teeth, and then toss all the last-minute toiletry items into yet another box.
After pulling my sheets and comforter, along with the pillows and cases, off of the bed, I put those into a tote, planning to wash them at the new place, and then take a moment to pull in a deep breath.
Holden Lexington just asked me to marry him. I don’t think I dreamed that. He stood in my apartment and asked me to marry him, and he has a wild rose tattoo on his freaking arm.
A tattoo. For me.
I want to touch it and examine it and ask him all the questions.
Essentially, all of my nineteen-year-old fantasies just came true, except he’s eight years too late. I can’t stand him, and he asked simply because he wants me to help him keep his property.
Not because he loves me.
I snort at that thought. Of course, he doesn’t love me. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have been so cruel all those years ago. But he was cruel, and I learned my lesson about trusting Holden Lexington. I need to remember that. Marrying him is preposterous.
With that decided, I step out of my bedroom and frown at the crazy amount of testosterone filling the living room.
Bridger and Holden are practically toe-to-toe, both with their hands fisted, jaws clenched, ready to duke it out. They really are a sight to behold. Both so tall and broad. Muscular. Tattoos, tanned skin, thick hair.
And there’s Brooks, scowling, also hot as hell, hands on his hips.
“Enough.” My voice is hard. “I don’t know what either of you is trying to prove, but enough. ”
“I want to know why he’s here,” Bridger says without sparing me a glance.
“Same goes,” Holden adds, and Brooks pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. The Blackwell brothers and Holden have been friends since way back.
But Bridger is Brooks’s brother.
What’s a guy to do?
“Brooks and Bridger are helping me out today,” I say at last, turning my eyes to the ceiling in frustration. “And Holden is just…here.”
I’m not going to blab about Holden’s personal life. As much as I want to strangle him, that’s not my story to tell.
“Are you going to load my bed up in your truck or what?” I demand, staring at Bridger. “For fuck’s sake, stop it with the dick-measuring contest. I’m not sleeping with either of you, so just stop it . ”
Holden’s shoulders relax, his fists loosening.
And Bridger does the same.
Bridger is maybe the only person in the world who knows the whole story of what went down between me and Holden. Several years ago, when we had some drinks and were really talking, the story just came out of me, and he listened without judgment. I needed a friend right then, and I know that Bridger considers Holden a close friend, too.
Which is why this is so freaking weird.
“Guys, we don’t have time for this. I’d really like to have all my things moved over by noon so I can work on getting unpacked and settled before I have to go back to work tomorrow. So, please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop the staring contest. I’ll talk to you later, Holden.”
“If they’re helping,” Holden says as he points at the guys, “I’m helping.”
I can’t help the sigh that escapes me.
“You don’t have—” But he glares at me, and I just don’t have it in me to fight with him. If he wants to invest time and energy into moving all of my shit for me, so be it.
It doesn’t mean anything.
“Fine,” Bridger says with a resigned sigh. “Help if you want to help, but lose the fucking attitude.”
Brooks pats Holden on the shoulder as he walks past, headed for the bedroom.
“I just have stuff in the bedroom and in here. Everything is packed up and ready.”
Bridger moves for the box marked Lingerie , but Holden growls and scoops it up before Bridger can get his hands on it.
“I’ll go grab my truck. Be back in ten.”
He stomps out the door, box in hand. I can’t help but smirk. I should probably tell him that there isn’t really lingerie in there, but this is too much fun.
“Why is he such a dick sometimes?” Bridger props his hands on his hips and then frowns at me. “Oh, yeah, because you won’t just talk to him and tell him that you and I are just friends. For fuck’s sake, Millie.”
“It’s none of his business.” I sniff, lifting my nose in the air, and reach for a box as Brooks calls out from the bedroom.
“Bridge! Get your ass in here and help me with this bed.”
It actually went really well. The four of us got all the boxes moved over to my new place in less than an hour. When I told the guys that they could go, they all shook their heads and dug in, opening boxes and helping me get settled.
“So, you bought Polly’s old furniture?” Brooks asks me.
“Yeah, it’s nice stuff. Mine was getting old, and I didn’t want to move it anyway, so I sold it. The beds are both new. Well, the mattresses are, anyway.” I shrug and smile as I look around the place. My brother had the whole thing renovated when he and Polly were still dating, and I absolutely love it.
Holden and Bridger have finished bringing the last of the boxes in from the trucks, and Holden’s holding four cold waters. He tosses one to each of the guys and then crosses over, holding one out for me after he breaks the seal of the lid.
“You need to hydrate.”
I accept the bottle. I want to ask where he found four cold waters, but I don’t. I can’t help but glance at his arm and see the little bit of pink peeking out at the bottom of the sleeve of his black T-shirt.
Goddamn it, it turns me on, and that’s what pisses me off the most.
“I ordered sandwiches from Mama’s Deli,” Holden adds. “They’ll be here in about twenty.”
“I could have done that. You all are doing the hard work. I should buy you lunch.”
His gorgeous blue eyes never leave mine as he smirks, his lips tipping up in a half smile. “No way. You don’t need to buy me shit. Now”—he searches the area and lifts the box marked Lingerie— “I’ll go unpack this one.”
“Help yourself,” I reply with an innocent grin. “It’s the bedroom on the right.”
“I’ll find it,” he says, walking past me.
“Shall we unpack the kitchen?” I ask Brooks, who’s watching me with shrewd brown eyes. Bridger is currently unpacking my bathroom.
“You bet.” He finishes his water, tosses the bottle into an empty box, since I don’t have garbage or recycling set up in here yet, and then grabs two stacked boxes marked Kitchen. Just when I’ve unwrapped some mismatched glasses and started to organize them in a cupboard, Brooks asks, “So, where are your brothers today?”
“They’re busy,” I murmur, feeling an ache in my breastbone. “They all have jobs and families now, with kids and property to take care of. I appreciate that you and Bridger are close by and are willing to sacrifice your morning for me.”
“We’re always happy to help,” Brooks agrees. “Anytime, you know that. But, sweetheart, your brothers will drop whatever they’re doing at a moment’s notice to come help you. You know that, too.”
I feel tears burn the backs of my eyes, so I bite my lip, keeping my eyes down on the Montana State University mug in my hands.
“I know,” I whisper.
The truth is, I miss them all so much. But now that they’re all settled down, doing their own things, I feel like an outsider. I don’t really fit in anywhere, and I don’t want to feel like an obligation or a pain in the ass.
“Where do you want the plates?” he asks with a sweet smile.
“Just right there.” I motion to the cabinet next to the stove. Then the doorbell rings, and Holden comes jogging out of the bedroom.
I can’t help but bite my lip again, but for another reason entirely. I wonder if he opened the lingerie box.
“Hi, Jeanie!” I call out, waving at the manager of Mama’s Deli, who smiles widely and waves back.
“It’s moving day,” she says happily. “How fun. This is such a cute little house. It’ll be perfect for you.”
“You can keep the change,” Holden says with a wink.
“You’re sweet. Thank you. Don’t work too hard.” Jeanie waves again, and then Holden closes the door, carrying the sandwiches to the kitchen.
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Fucking starving,” Brooks answers, and Holden tosses him a wrapped sandwich.
“Is that lunch?” Bridger asks as he joins us, and Holden tosses him a sandwich. “Nice. Thanks, man.”
“I’m still pissed at you,” Holden says, glaring at Bridger, but his words have less bite than before, and Bridger just grins when he takes a bite out of what looks like turkey on wheat. Holden turns to me, his expression softening, and smiles at me. Goddamn it, he needs to take that smile elsewhere. “Here. I got you the Italian.”
How can he push my world off of its axis with a fucking sandwich?
“Thanks.” I blink and accept the sandwich. He remembered my favorite.
Because, of course , he did.
That son of a bitch.
I keep my face neutral as I unwrap my lunch and take a bite. It’s damn good.
“So, your lingerie is interesting,” Holden says, and Bridger smirks. “Shoes. A computer cord. Playing cards. A night-light. I believe there was a spider in there.”
“There was not!”
He laughs. “Why’d you label it that?”
“To get a rise out of the guys.” I’m smug when I take another bite out of my sandwich. “Looks like it worked. Besides, I’m not really a lingerie kind of girl. I sleep naked.”
I shrug a shoulder as Bridger and Brooks both choke on their food.
Holden stops chewing, his eyes hot on mine. They journey down my body and up again, as if he’s undressing me with those gorgeous blue orbs, and my freaking nipples betray me by tightening under his scrutiny.
Of course, the jerk doesn’t miss that. He smirks and takes another bite of his sandwich.
“I’m going to haul the empty boxes out of here,” Brooks declares, brushing crumbs off his hands before he starts to gather the cardboard. “Looks like we got most of them unpacked.”
“You guys were a huge help, and I’m grateful.” I break myself out of Holden’s spell and set my lunch aside so I can help the guys gather the empties, break them down, and set them by the front door.
Finally, when pretty much everything is done and good to go, the Blackwell brothers each offer me a hug.
When it’s Bridger’s turn, he whispers in my ear, “Call me if you need me.”
I ignore Holden’s growl as I smile up at my friend. “Always. Thanks, guys. Tell Birdie I said hi.”
They wave, and then they’re gone, and I’m left with the one man on this earth that I do not want to be alone in a room with.
He watches me as I wrap up half of my sandwich and set it in the fridge. I pull out a plastic garbage bag and line the can before setting it under the sink, and then I tug a couple of Clorox wipes out of a tub and wipe down the countertops.
“Are we done talking, then?” he asks softly.
“I’m honestly talked out,” I reply. I just want him to go so I can relax and let my mind start to unravel everything that has happened today. After tossing the wipe in the trash, I move to the back door and open it, then step out onto the patio.
I love that there are screens that lower with a remote, closing in the patio so I can avoid bugs in the hottest months. I walk to the edge of the stone surface and wrap my arms around my middle, taking a deep breath.
I feel him join me, and from my peripheral vision, I see him step up beside me, crossing his arms over his chest, taking in the fresh air.
Being near him shouldn’t be this easy. It should be awkward as fuck, and I should scream for him to get out.
That’s what I should do.
But I don’t.
And we stand like this, quiet in the spring afternoon, listening to the birds. I want to lean into him, so I lean away, and he sighs beside me.
Suddenly, he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear, the way he did back then.
And just like then, it sends a jolt right down my spine.
“You could destroy me.” I didn’t plan to say it out loud, even in a whisper, and heat floods my cheeks.
“Same goes, Millie.” He drops his hand, not touching me anymore, and without another word, he leaves. I can hear his footsteps through the house and then the front door closing.
I wait until I hear his truck start and then the engine revving as he drives away before I lower myself to the swing and drop my face into my hands, finally letting the tears come.
God, I can’t possibly entertain the notion of marrying him. My body is humming, begging for him after just a couple of hours in his presence. And I hate myself for it because that means that if I agree to this insane idea of his, I won’t be strong enough to pretend that it’s not real for me.
I won’t be able to keep my heart safe from him.
Because despite all of it, I want to give in. Over the past couple of years, Holden has softened toward me. He brings me flowers, stops into the shop to chat, and always has a smile or a wink or something nice to say.
At first, it shocked the hell out of me.
Then I started to get used to it, even though I tried my best to be mean to him in return.
There have been moments when I’ve caved and laughed at a joke or smiled at him. When he brought me roses and sunflowers—my second favorite, next to the wild roses—the day I officially took over ownership of BVCC, I thought I was going to melt into a puddle. He told me he was proud of me. His eyes were so sincere, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep it together until he left.
Damn him.
I hate what his dad did to his sisters. They don’t deserve that. And I respect that Holden is doing what he can to make that right. Because I know how much he loves his girls , as he calls them.
He adores them.
He’s protecting them.
But he’s trying to use me to help him do that.
“Jerk,” I mutter when I sit up and tip my head back as I brush the tears off my cheek. “Swoony jerk.”
The look in his eyes this morning when he told me that there’s no one else he’d consider marrying almost brought me to my knees.
There’s no one else.
I’m so fucking confused!
Without overthinking it, I grab my bag and keys and march out to my SUV before heading out toward the Lexington ranch. It just happens to be near my family’s ranch, since they have property that borders each other.
I’ve never set foot on Lexington property before, and I don’t know where Holden’s living out there, but I’ll find it.
If I get lost, I’ll turn back and come home because I don’t have his number.
I deleted that a long time ago.
I pass the turnoff for the Wild River Ranch, and about four miles later, I turn onto Lexington Ranch Road. I follow it until it curves and winds around to a small grouping of buildings, one being a big farmhouse.
But Holden’s truck isn’t parked in front of that. I can see it back a ways, in the trees, over by a smaller cabin with a tiny front porch, and I frown.
I guess he didn’t want to live in the farmhouse.
It’s not long ago that if I’d been caught setting foot on this property, I might have been taking my own life in my hands. Literally. Holden’s dad was an ass, and he made it no secret that he wished all of us Wilds dead.
What a jerk.
I park next to Holden’s truck and then stumble to a stop, staring at the second truck parked by the cabin.
The old, two-toned Ford that he drove forever. I lost my virginity in the back of that Ford, and standing here, looking at it, brings back all kinds of memories that have my nipples puckering and my thighs tightening.
“Get it together, Millie.”
Before I lose my nerve, I walk up to the door and knock.
I can hear footsteps inside, and then he swings the door open, and his face drains of color.
“We’re going to set some ground rules.”