Chapter 19 Going To Hell
GOING TO HELL
When I arrive at the office Monday morning there’s a cup from Cherry’s sitting on my desk. Next to it is a gooey glazed croissant drizzled in chocolate atop a napkin.
I can hear Holt in the back office. He’s on the phone.
I’m pretty sure he’s arranging to have a basement poured, but I tune him out as I settle behind my desk.
Then I glare at the coffee and treat. One, if I keep indulging in Cherry’s croissants, I’m going to need to add another thirty minutes to my morning workout. Two, WTF?
The man has been tense, and borderline irate with me since he returned to oversee Wilder Builds and Reno’s while Herman recovered. Now he’s bringing me my favorite latte and treat, like it’s nothing. Normal.
It’s not.
I power on my laptop. I obviously have very little willpower, because as the laptop is doing its thing, I nab the cup and take a generous sip.
Oh, my goodness sooooo good.
I log in to the company email, opening the titled Kepler Residence. I scan the images and smile. This was Elise’s idea, implemented years ago. Before and after a project is complete, photos are sent to the company email. It’s fun to see the transformations.
I pull out my phone and text Tanner.
Fantastic job on the Kepler house! Floor looks great.
Thanks. You in the office today?
Yep. I’m done being sick.
Are you busy this weekend?
I wince. I should have known this was where the conversation would turn. Before Holt arrived in town, I’d been trying to see Tanner in that spot beside me. Mostly because everyone said it was time, and I felt like perhaps something was wrong with me for not wanting someone. For not wanting Tanner.
But now that Holt’s back I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not so sure, because I don’t feel that way about Tanner. A twisty kind of sick settles in my belly when I think of being with Holt the way I’m trying to make myself think of being with Tanner.
I already know nothing can happen with Holt. He’s my ex from high school, and my late husband’s little brother. I already jumped from Holt to Tate once. I can’t imagine the name I’d earn myself if I jumped back to Holt.
But still, the feelings are there—as bad as that may be.
Of course, I won’t do anything about them. But the fact they are there at all proves that Tanner isn’t the one for me. Encouraging him any longer would simply be cruel.
Still, I want to let him down gently.
I’m not sure I’m ready for that, Tanner. I’m sorry.
I stare at my phone for way too long.
Finally, he replies.
I’ll be here when you are.
I want to cry. I do the next best thing and smother my emotions with a giant bite of the gooey croissant.
Because I was clearly born with absolute shit for luck, Holt takes that moment to enter the main office. I chew, swallow, and manage a croaked, “Morning.”
His eyes are laughing at me.
Heat creeps up my face. I point to the coffee and treat. “Thanks for this.”
“Welcome.” He sits on the edge of Elise’s desk, folds one booted foot over the other and pins me with those dark eyes. “Tanner show up at the house often?”
Oh, God, why is he asking?
“He—um—sometimes.”
Holt nods once. “The kids seem close to him.”
“He’s their uncle.”
“I’m their uncle.”
I feel like I’m going to choke on air. I take a sip of my latte. “Tanner was Tate’s best friend. He was around a lot. He came around a lot more to help around the house after…” I can’t continue, but I don’t need to. I say quietly, “He’s like family.”
“Did he want you when you were Tate’s?”
I flinch. “Of course not.”
Holt’s expression is hard. I feel like I might crumble under the pressure of it.
Finally, darkly, he responds, “He wants you now.”
Now I wish he hadn’t responded.
“I know.”
I feel like he’s stripping me bare and raw, peering beneath my flesh to the secrets I keep concealed when he asks, “Do you want him?”
I hold Holt’s eyes. I wonder if he can read those secrets I’m trying to contain. My most inner, forbidden desires. The ones that revolve exclusively around him. The ones I hate myself for.
I pray he can’t.
I shake my head, severing my gaze from his. “No.”
Holt pushes off the desk. My eyes snap up to watch as he stalks closer to me. My heart responds as though he’s a danger—the single most ruthless predator intent on its ultimate destruction. My final ruin.
He stops far closer than is appropriate. My face is in line with the buckle of his belt—and heat swarms every inch of me.
There’s a rough edge to Holt’s voice when he commands, “Look at me, Faye. Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t want him.”
I don’t know what possesses me—what possessed him—but I do as he demands. I look straight into those espresso eyes touched with inky coal and say firmly, “I don’t want Tanner.”
His eyes dive deep into the depths of mine, searching for what?—I’m not sure.
Finally, he rasps a rumbly kind of growl, “Good.”
I don’t move as his hand lifts to my face and his thumb swipes across my lip. I see the glitter of glazed sugar on the pad of his thumb as he pulls it from my mouth and brings it to his.
The throb of sharp pain that pulses between my legs in that moment steals my breath. It’s a stabbing, unexpected arousal and I haven’t felt in—I haven’t felt it since him.
Holt sucks his thumb clean, pivots, and walks away.
I race to the bathroom where I can collect myself in peace—because what the actual heck.?
I look at myself in the mirror, face flushed, eyes bright with arousal.
“I’m going to hell,” I mutter to myself.