Chapter 7
Piper
“So, what do you want to watch,” I ask him.
I’m avoiding his inspection of me. I’m not sure what he finds so interesting—but I’m just going to ignore it.
Escaping his probing stare is probably best done by watching some mindless television.
His light brown, almost blonde, eyebrow raises a bit and he smirks knowingly.
“What do you usually watch,” he asks. I am so jealous of his laid back nature. I weigh my answer. I can’t exactly tell him that I have been enthralled with the latest bodice ripper romance adaptation. That would be awkward. I go the safest route.
“Whatever true crime special they have on,” I answer, truthfully. He chuckles and my stomach flutters slightly at the sound. Jesus.
“That works for me,” he answers as he finishes the last of his pizza. He places the empty plate on my coffee table. As he leans back he puts his arm along the back of the couch. We aren’t touching, not even close, but his proximity makes my skin prickle.
Blindly, I select one of the first options, and try to focus.
I’m hyper aware of everything that he is doing.
I look over at him out of the corner of my eye.
I can’t believe this man is sitting in my living room.
His sharp jaw is covered in light stubble, his full lips are tilted in a slight grin.
I shake my head and once again try to pay attention to the program.
My phone buzzes next to me and I look down. It’s Meg. She is probably checking on me. I swipe to open her message and can’t help but huff and roll my eyes. As I respond to her sage words of wisdom.
Meg: Don’t overthink it Piper.
Piper: There is nothing to overthink. Shouldn’t you be busy with Sterling right now?
I think I have won this round, but I know I haven’t when I see she has quickly responded to me.
Meg: I need a break after 3 times in a day. Don’t worry—soon you will understand ;)
She has been impossible ever since she started getting laid on a regular basis. I huff and click out of the messages. I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.
“Something wrong,” Holt asks. His voice has a slightly amused tone. It is as if he knows.
“No, just Meg being nosey. She can’t mind her own business,” I huff, and cross my arms in irritation.
“I’m sure she is just checking in on you,” Holt suggests. He is right in his own way, but he has no idea.
“You would think your brother could keep her busy for awhile,” I mutter quietly. He chuckles.
“I assure you, he has been. He hasn’t been able to come up for air since he met Meg. If there is one thing us Campbell men have, its stamina,” he wiggles his eyebrows as he jokes.
My eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before my brain catches up. Act cool, Piper. I lightly shove his shoulder.
“Yeah, okay—sure,” I say, in what I hope is a disbelieving tone. The truth is, I have no trouble believing that the Campbell men are gifted— in every arena. He saves me and changes the subject. A serious look darkening his features.
“Piper, no more hide-a-key,” he states definitively. I open my mouth to argue, but he rolls on with more.
“And, tomorrow I’ll be by with a few things to secure this place,” his tone leaves no room for an argument, but I’m going to try to make one.
“Look, Holt, I appreciate this— but my home is perfectly safe,” before I can add all of the safety features I have conjured up in my head, he interrupts me.
“You have a sliding glass door with a flimsy lock and no privacy curtain, the lock for your kitchen window is a broom handle that you jammed in between the top and bottom pane, you have no deadbolt on the kitchen door, no security system, no cameras. I could go on and on,” Holt finishes his list. I can’t believe he inventoried all of that in one visit.
I’m so tired, and honestly, Holt isn’t wrong. I have no energy to put up a better fight. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow, when I have slept a little.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow. My brain is mush,” I explain to him. Holt looks at me and nods. His hand reaches out and I freeze as he tucks a loose piece of my hair behind my ear. It is almost as if the action was in slow motion.
I’m left wondering if I imagined the whole interaction when Holt turns to watch the television. He is cool as a cucumber, while I’m over here wondering if I am losing my mind. Shaking my head I mirror his actions.
In a few minutes, I am pulled into the show. Before I know it the credits are rolling. I turn to look at Holt and find him asleep. Do I wake him up? Do I let him sleep?
I stare at him for a few minutes. Willing him to make the decision for me.
When I realize he isn’t going to wake up on his own, I decide to choose the path of least resistance.
Grabbing the throw blanket off the back of the couch, I gently lay it over him.
He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. He must be just as tired as I am.
I pad over to my bedroom to grab pajamas and jump in the shower.
Showering at 4:00 am is just not something that I like to do, so the night before it is. Maybe by the time I’m out, Holt will have woken up. I slip into the bathroom with my pajamas and turn on the shower.
I go through my shower routine fairly quickly.
Shaving my legs—since my pajamas are men’s boxer shorts and washing my hair.
After rinsing off I jump out, dry off, pull on my clothes, and brush my teeth.
I run a comb through my wet hair and then quietly pull open the door.
I peer around and see that Holt is in the same position that I left him in.
I scurry out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.
Closing the door until it is only cracked open, I hop in bed and debate on whether or not I should shut off my bedside light.
Ever since the Brookins incident, I haven’t been able to sleep without some kind of light on.
However, I’m feeling a bit more comfortable with Holt out there on the couch.
I reach over and turn it off, plunging the room into darkness and drift into sleep.