Chapter 11 Holly
HOLLY
I sit at a small table by the window of Peak to Perk, hands wrapped around my mug only to give them warmth.
The caramel latte is almost too pretty to drink.
The foam decoration on top is in the shape of a heart—so cute, I don’t want to disturb it.
And I know why. I’m falling a little too fast for Scott.
I can’t help it. His cocky ways, and that hard body of his, and how he looks at me like I’m something special are addictive. But a guy like him doesn’t settle down, does he? He talks a lot about his goals in professional hockey, but I know players get traded sometimes from team to team.
What would I do? Follow him around the states with Winston in tow? No, our life is in Hollywood when we’re not on a set somewhere else.
I sigh. I’ve always been practical in love, which might be my downfall. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up a lonely cat lady, not that there’s anything wrong with that. And I do have a nice collection of battery-operated toys to keep me satisfied when needed.
Scott Sanderson has been living under my roof for a month, though, and every time he looks at me, my body betrays me with butterflies and heat. That’s something no toy can produce. I promised myself after Peter I wouldn’t fall for a man so easily again. But Scott makes it hard to remember why.
I stare deep into the foam heart, hoping it might whisper answers I don’t have, when I should be working. I have plenty to do with emails, calls, and managing Winston’s schedule. But I received an unavoidable message this morning, or I wouldn’t be here to meet with a man I don’t want to face today.
Movement outside the window jolts me. I recognize the sleek truck pulling into the space beside my car. My breath catches. Scott’s grin flashes as soon as he spots me, and my stomach flips. I lift my hand in a wave, foolishly girlish. He waves back and pushes through the door like he belongs here.
My eyes dart to the men’s restroom. Scott suddenly showing up here makes things complicated.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss against my cheek before sliding into the seat across from me. My pulse races. “Saw your Mercedes out front. Kind of hard to miss in a town like this. Thought I’d stop and say hi.”
I give the faintest smile, setting my cup down. “I had a couple of hours to kill while Winston’s at his Reiki session.”
“You found someone practicing Reiki around here?” Scott chuckles, shaking his head.
“You should try it. It helps the body relieve stress and balance energy flow.”
His eyes soften, covering my hand with his. “I didn’t stop here to talk about the latest health trends. Come to dinner with me tonight. Just us. No cat, no distractions.”
Before I can answer, I see the bathroom door open and the man who steps out. In seconds, his shadow falls across the table, and then he takes the seat next to me.
“Um, Scott, this is Douglas. Daddy, this is a friend of mine. Scott Sanderson. He plays for the new hockey team, the Frostbite.”
The two men have a stare-off. Scott’s posture stiffens under the weight of my father’s glare.
“Hello, sir,” he says, making the first move, reaching across the table with a steady hand.
Dad grips it as if they’re in a power struggle. “Hockey? Interesting.” That’s all he says, then leans back. His disapproval clear as he side-eyes me.
“Yes, it is. And the way we’ve been practicing, I think the team has a real shot at the cup.
” Scott’s canned response is something players probably use in public all the time.
But there’s so much he doesn’t know about my father, like how he couldn't care less.
Money and power are the only two things he loves.
“Good to hear. I’ll have to check the odds. I like to dabble in a little sports betting now and then.” Dad smirks. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish the conversation with my daughter alone.”
He pushes back his chair. “Sure. Holly, I’ll see you back at home later.”
“Home?” Dad turns his puzzled face to me.
“Auntie offered Scott a room for a while, until he gets on his feet here,” I blurt, but the damage is done. Scott’s reaction is subtle but sharp—his jaw ticks, his eyes widen briefly before shuttering. Why does this seem to be a problem for him?
We haven’t exactly figured out what our situation is, relationship or otherwise. We talk about having fun, and find pockets of time to spend together in and around our busy schedules. What about any of that spells out long-term or love? Even though my heart is already falling.
“Ah. So, it’s not enough that you hide up here in Montana. You’re using this guy as your distraction from making any attempts to reunite with Peter?” Dad huffs, his face turning red. He always had a high blood pressure problem that spiked when he didn’t get his way.
“You mean so she can reunite with a dickhead who treated her like shit?” Scott interrupts.
“This is none of your damn business,” Dad spits like venom.
“Maybe not, but I won’t sit here and let you talk to Holly like that.”
“Scott, enough. Please go. I’ll finish up here and see you later—” I start, but he pulls me up from my chair and into his arms before I can stop him.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay with him? I hate to leave you like this,” he whispers in my ear.
“Yes. Go on. I’ll be fine.” I inhale his freshly showered manliness like he bathed in an Irish spring at the hockey locker rooms. Scott has no idea how his arms around me gives me strength to press on with Dad.
My stomach twists as he lets me go and heads toward the door. I turn back to Doug, but the smug tilt of his mouth practically accosts me.
Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them. “I can’t go back to Peter. I won’t. You know how he treated me. You actually want your daughter to marry a cheater?”
He only ever cared about merging our family with Peter’s, another power move in his ongoing game of life.
My father’s voice hardens. “You don’t get to decide.
Breaking off your engagement and moving out was bad enough, especially while I was distracted with Brenda on our extended honeymoon in Asia.
Now, I’ve spent the past year being very patient while you were supposed to be patching things up with Peter.
But they’ve been nothing but empty promises, haven’t they? ”
He rises up, and leans over the table, hovering above me, intimidating me. I try my damnedest not to shrink back. I look him in the eye and say, “I am not yours to control, and I will never, ever go back to Peter. So stop pushing.”
Upright, he straightens his jacket, buttoning it at the waist. “Peter’s waiting for your call. And I don’t give a fuck if it’s a loveless marriage. You will do what I say, or I cut you out of my life.”
My jaw hits the floor and he stalks away, and only when I see him get into his car do I let out a breath. Hasn’t he already cut me out? For so long, I’ve never been enough for him. No wonder Mom divorced him. He hasn’t been there for me since. Why do I keep trying to earn his love?
The realization makes me choke on a sob, clutching my cup like it might anchor me. Only now, the foam heart has dissolved into nothing but swirls of brown.