Chapter 13
IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME
The man hasn’t demanded I make his coffee since that first day when I put him in his place.
I worked myself up all weekend long to work with him in a professional and amicable manner.
Then, within minutes of me walking into the office, he made it clear he had every intention of playing hard ball. So, I pivoted.
I wasn’t about to let him walk all over me.
I refused to let the guilt I carried around our past dictate how the next five months played out for me. I’ve had a hard enough time the last fourteen months to willingly allow Holt to throw me into the ringer and kick the emotional crap out of me.
So, I gloved up and punched back. With a hefty dose of sugar.
I’ve been doing that daily for the last week. He scowls, I smile.
He grunts, I giggle.
He curses, I coo.
I’m driving him crazy, it’s plain to see. But surprisingly, this is the most fun I’ve had in the last fourteen months.
Who’d have thought the thing to pull me out of the funk of losing my husband would be driving his brother up a wall, across the ceiling, and down the other wall?
But it is pulling me out in a way that waking before the sun, working out and dressing pretty hasn’t entirely been able to do. This last week, I’ve been waking with a jitter in my heart. I think it’s edging excitement.
Over the weekend, knowing I wouldn’t see him, I woke without that jitter—and it sucked.
I shouldn’t be so excited to see Holt. I shouldn’t crave his ire the way I do—but I do.
It is what it is.
For the first time in a long time, I feel alive again. I don’t have to fake my smiles or fear they shine with a little too much water. Because they are real, if a little on the maniacal side.
Whatever. I feel alive. Like a woman.
It’s been a long time.
I dump another spoon of sugar into my coffee and smile into my cup as I mix just a touch more cream into the brew.
Mabel had been tough this morning. She’d wanted to snooze in and ditch the responsibilities of the day.
Alas, I’d dragged her booty out of bed and all the way to daycare.
Thankfully, Owen rode his bike to school now that the days are warmer, so that was one less drop-off.
I’d have stopped in at Cherry’s, but that would have definitely made me late.
Thanks to my daughter, I entered the office with two minutes to spare.
Holt glared hotly at me, to which I responded by flashing him what I hoped was a radiant smile.
I’m not so sure it was, considering the way his face darkened and that constant grumpy cloud over his head crackled with lightning before he turned and stormed his stormy self back into the office.
“Do you want some coffee with all that crap you put in your cup?” On a miracle, I manage not to jump at the sound of his rough voice so close.
How hadn’t I noticed his approach? I always know when Holt is close. It’s like I have Holt radar, and any time he’s within eye-balling distance, the sirens start to blare.
“Nope.” Hugging my mug with my hands, I turn.
He’s so close, my heart does a leapy thing in my chest. I lean my booty into the counter.
I could slide to the side to escape him…
but I don’t want to. I take a sip of my creamy sweet coffee and moan.
His eyes darken, and my pitch drops to an unintentional kind of husky when I add, “I like it just like this.”
His eyes sweep my face. Prickles of heat erupt over my skin. My belly twists itself into knots that it really shouldn’t be tying.
A memory of Tate flashes in my mind. Ugly confliction claws at my heart.
I clear my throat and slide out from between Holt and the coffee counter just as the bells jingle on the door and Tanner strolls inside.
I manage a chirpy “Morning,” that must sound off because his brows furrow as he looks at Holt, me, and back to Holt.
I can’t make myself dare a peek at Holt, so I dip my chin and scurry, as well as one can scurry in heels, to my desk.
I take another sip of my sugary sweet coffee for courage before I force myself to look at the men. They’re locked in what I imagine a modern-day duel might look like.
Tanner drops his hands to his hips, stretching his T-shirt over a hard chest. All Holt has to do is stand tall and straight, his extra inches giving him the appearance of looking down on Tanner.
What the heck is going on?
“Ahem.” I clear my throat. “I got a visit from Mrs. Kepler last thing on Friday.” It takes a moment, but Tanner pulls his gaze from Holt’s. He gives it to me, and I relax just a little. “Looks like it’s really a go. I’ve squeezed her into the schedule first thing tomorrow morning.”
Tanner sways his body away from Holt as he starts for me. “I’m supposed to be on the Picker’s house tomorrow.”
“I think Craig can handle the Picker’s house for the few hours it’ll take you and Luke to rip up Mrs. Kepler’s floor.
” I give Tanner a smile and feel something unsettling pinch around my heart as that dark storm cloud from Holt stretches to try and sweep me up in its vast darkness.
I ignore it. “We want to get a move on that before she backs out. Again.”
“Did you order her new flooring?” Tanner asks, leaning into my desk.
“It’s coming in Wednesday.”
Tanner cocks a grin. His eyes doing that thing that should have my heart melting as they roam slowly over my face. Even Andy says Tanner is a wet dream. She claims she’d have moved in on him, if he didn’t look at me like he looked at me.
I just wish it made me feel something. Anything.
Maybe Andy is right, and I’m just not giving him enough of a chance.
But Holt makes me feel a lot of things. Knotted and twisty things. Melty and prickly things.
I’m confident that unlike Tanner, Holt isn’t trying.
“You’re a miracle worker, Faye.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I set my coffee onto my desk as I straighten to pluck up a pen. I toy with the clicker on the top before I scan my calendar for an install window. I frown. “You’re busy the rest of the week.”
“Not busy Saturday.”
I don’t look up. “You’re willing to work Saturday?”
“Willing to work Saturday day,” Tanner says. I start to scribble him in and pause when he rumbles, “But I’d like to take you out Saturday night.”
My eyes lift to Tanner. My smile wobbles, just a little. Holt makes a noise that makes me think maybe he sees it.
I force some brightness I don’t feel into my smile. Tanner’s eyes drop to my lips. Something pinches my heart. It’s not pleasant. But Tanner is a good man, and he is good to my kids. They love Uncle Tanner, because he was Tate’s closest friend.
And everyone seems to think we’d make a wonderful pair, if only I could give him a chance.
I clear my throat. My eyes flick to Holt, who is now leaning against the coffee station, arms folded, eyes pinned on me.
Why can’t he just go away?
“Um—you want to take me out?”
“I do.”
“This Saturday?” I touch the tip of my ball point to the Saturday in question on my calendar.
“Yeah, Faye. This Saturday.” Tanner’s grin stretches. He really is handsome.
“Um—” I bob my head. “I’ll have to ask my mom to watch the kids.”
“You do that.” He taps his knuckle on my desk before taking a step back. “Let me know, yeah?”
I nod. “I will.”
Having made it to the door, Tanner waves. “See you later, Faye.”
I wince when I croak, “Bye.” So, I give him a finger-wave.
The door cuts off his deep laugh as it falls closed.
My eyes snap to Holt. “Why are you still here?”
He kicks off the counter, his movements lethal as he nears my desk. He doesn’t stop on the far side of my desk like would be appropriate. He rounds my desk, drops one big hand to the back of my swivel chair, and takes advantage of the ease with which it swivels when he spins me to face him.
My breath gets stuck in my lungs when he drops his hands to the arm rests and leans in far too close for comfort.
I can taste the icy mint of his breath as he says low, “You must have forgotten in the excitement of your date.” He bites out the last word.
“But for the next five months, I run this place. That’s why I’m here. ”
His eyes drift slowly over my face before dropping to my heaving breasts and sliding back up to my eyes. His are dark pools of stormy danger I can’t help but slide into, even knowing I might be lost forever.
They definitely don’t make me feel blasé, the way I so often feel under Tanner’s gaze.
In Holt’s gaze—trapped in the fire of his glare—I feel like a woman again. Alive again. Like not all of me died with Tate. Like there’s something that still wants to live. To breathe. To feel.
This is so wrong. So complicated.
He pushes off my chair, and I flinch at the roughness of the movement. At the loss of him so close.
I’m a mess.
“Pour your syrup into a to-go mug and pack up.” Holt moves to the front door, flipping the open sign to closed. He locks the door and starts for the back.
“What are we doing?” I find my voice, even though I have no hope of walking on my knocking knees just yet.
“You’re coming with me to the Cuthill’s. Got a call about a complete gut job but she’s not sure she has a vision. You’re going to give her one.”
“Um…”
He twists at the mouth of the hall to pin me with those pit-less eyes. “That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“I’ll gather my samples.” The words sound far hoarser than I like. Something flickers in the deep of his eyes. Something I can’t begin to decode.
“You’ve got ten minutes.” He turns and walks away.
I slump in my chair because what the heck was that?