I chuckle. “Why can I see it so vividly in my head?”
“Probably because I’m two more burpee foul poles from doing it.”
“Okay, so that was your immature response. What’s your mature one?”
He takes a sip of his drink and looks me in the eyes. In a deep, serious tone, he says, “Fall in love.”
“Oh,” I answer while swallowing hard.
Dear.
God.
I was not expecting such a guileless answer from Holt.
The fuck-off answer—yeah, I can see it. Goes with his smart-ass attitude. But falling in love? And for the first time? It adds a layer to Holt I don’t think I was ready for.
Yes, Harmony. My intent is to date you. Hopefully multiple times—that’s if I can win you over.
Is he looking for a serious relationship?
From what he said earlier and the answer to his question now, I’m thinking that he might.
Does he think he can find that with me?
Do I want a serious relationship with him?
I glance up at his hazel eyes, and a wave of butterflies flutters in my stomach. He could have given up on me. I’ve been a cold fish toward him. Distant. Aloof. Made him work hard for one simple outing with me. A relative nobody in the scheme of things. And yet . . . he’s made this date something unique. For me.
Yes. Maybe I do want something more with Holt. Maybe I do.
Chapter Fifteen
HOLT
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
And funny. So fucking funny.
And she takes my teasing like a goddamn champ and throws it right back at me.
We filled up on Chinese and now we’re sitting next to each other, watching the mini waves from the lake lap at the shore.
“We’ve been to the lake before,” I say. “But I like this date better.”
“I wouldn’t consider the first time a date. More like intruding on a pre-planned girls’ day.”
“It ended like a date,” I say with wink.
“That’s not how I usually end dates. You caught me in a weak moment.”
“Not going to complain about it. And just so you know, there are no expectations for tonight. Well, there’s one.”
“One?” she asks, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “And what would that be?”
“Hoping to find out what your lips taste like.”
“You’re going to have to work a little harder to find that out,” she says with a cheeky grin.
“I’ve no problem with working harder.” Leaning back on my hands and looking up toward the dimming sky, I ask her, “What’s been the best day you’ve had so far in your life? Besides our beach day, of course.”
She rolls her eyes cutely. “Of course.” Pausing, she pulls her legs against her chest and hugs them. “Best day so far in my life? That’s a hard question. And a day came to mind but it’s going to make me sound ungrateful.”
“Lay it on me.”
“I want to preface this with saying I love my parents. So much. They’ve given me a modest yet beautiful life and I’m grateful, but I think one of my best days was moving here.”
“Starting a new chapter?” I ask, knowing the feeling.
She nods. “Yeah. I grew up in a small town, which has its pluses and minuses. But I watched my parents live in the same house and never do anything outside of their bubble. We never traveled. We never went on vacation. We never saw anything outside of the fifty-mile radius we lived in. I wanted so much more, and leaving was the way to find what I was looking for.”
“So, you’ve found it?” I ask.
She lets out a dry chuckle. “Not sure. My naïve eighteen-year-old self thought moving away was going to solve all my problems, but I’m starting to find out that’s not the case. Sometimes I have to face my problems head on even if they scare me.”
“And what would be a problem you’re facing head on?”
She turns her head and looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes. “You.”
“Me?” I point to my chest. “Nah, I’m not a problem, baby. I’m a solution.”
She chuckles. “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too smooth. I was swept up by a guy like you before—”
“I’m not the asshole who—”
“I know.” She places her hand on my leg. “I know, Holt. But the problem is, I’m trying to convince myself of that. Just like you, I’ve never been in love. I thought I was at one point in high school, but it was more infatuation than anything. And then when I got to college, I was introduced to a different kind of guy. The college boy who doesn’t care about much anything else except his dick. So, I’ve avoided dating, until you.”
“What made you give me a chance?”
“Your persistence.” I laugh. “And I think you’re a nice guy. In spite of the sarcastic façade you try to hide behind, there’s a nice guy beneath the pomp and circumstance that is Holt Green.”
“I wouldn’t call it sarcasm. I just like to have fun with people. Found out that life is too short to be serious and angry all the time.”
“From your mugging,” she asks.
“Yeah, something like that,” I answer with a sigh. After watching the sun start to head toward the horizon, I turn to her and say, “Truth or dare?”
She keeps her eyes trained on me as if she wants to dive deeper into my nonchalant answer, and I wait for it. I wait for her to press me, but she doesn’t. Instead she tips her head back, exposing her beautiful neck as she says, “Truth, because I feel like your dare is going to be something lame like . . . ‘kiss me.’”
“How is that lame?”
Her head rolls to the side so her eyes connect with mine. “It’s lame because you can find a better way to lay your lips on mine.”
Hell.
I’ll fucking do it right now.
I’ve been thinking about those lips all night.
No, scratch that, I’ve been thinking about those lips for more than two weeks.
I’ve been thinking about how lush they are, how soft and inviting. I’ve considered how they would taste, like watermelon or cherry. I’ve wondered if they would open for me easily, or if she’d make me work for it. Given how our interactions have been, I’d say she’d make me work for it.
“Pfft, I’m smoother than that.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re really not.”
Chuckling, I say, “Got to enjoy being brought down a peg or two by the girl you’re pursuing.”
“Pursuing—I like the sound of that.”
“You would.”
She laughs and nudges my foot with hers. “Ask your question.”
“What are your top three turn-ons?”
I watch as a sexy smile spreads across her face. “Taking notes, Green?”
“You can bet your perfect ass that I am.”
She pushes some hair behind her ear and says, “Turn-ons . . . Well, clearly someone with muscles. That’s how I found my hand down your pants on our first non-date.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll be sure my penis writes a thank-you note to my muscles.”
“You’re so stupid.” She chuckles. “I’m also a sucker for a guy who knows how to use his hands.”
I flash my fingers at her, wiggling them. “I believe we’re both in the know when it comes to the magic that rests in my hands. Your pussy knows quite well.”
“I swear you asked this question to torture me.”
“I would never,” I say, full of sarcasm. “Come on. One more answer.”
“Okay, one more turn-on . . . Uh . . . a nice dick. And I know all my answers were physical, but I figured that’s what we were going for.”
“Define nice dick.”
“Doesn’t have to be big, but it has to be well maintained. Girth and length are a bonus.”
“Ahh . . . so my dick.”
“Eh, yours is decent.”
That makes me straight-up guffaw. “Okay, yeah, sure . . . decent.” I ro
ll my eyes.
Ignoring me, she asks, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” I answer.
A chill shakes her, and without giving it a second thought, I reach over and tug her so she’s sitting between my legs.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Keeping you warm.” I encircle her with my legs and arms, bringing her back to my chest and the back of her head to my shoulder. Her arms are cold, so I wrap my arms around her shoulders and attempt to bring her warmth. Whispering into her ear, I ask, “Are you comfortable?”
“I am,” she says, almost in awe.
“Good. Now I think you owe me a question.”
“I do.” She pauses and her head nuzzles against my shoulder. I hear her take in a deep breath, and then she asks, “What laundry detergent do you use?”
“That’s your question?” I ask while laughing.
“Yeah, it is. And don’t bullshit me. Tell me the real stuff. Dryer sheets and all.”
I chuckle some more. “Just Tide Sport. Nothing too fancy.”
“Then what cologne do you use?”
“I believe that’s two questions.”
She looks back at me. “Humor me.”
“Armani Code,” I answer. “Why, you think I smell good, Harmony?”
“Not good. Amazing. Add that to my turn-on list.”
“Noted.” I want to kiss her cheek so bad, feel her skin against my lips, but I hold off and say, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Really scared of the dare, huh?”
She shakes her head lightly against my shoulder. “No, I’ll do a dare when I think I’m ready. Maybe it’s best you get to know me right now.”
“I do want to get to know you.” I give my question some thought. I want to ask her something that she has to put some reflection into. Something that will get her mind spinning. “Okay, what’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”
“Oh, good one.”
I feel her lean into me more and I have to say, as I take in the picturesque skyline in front of us, I think this is what contentment feels like. I loved our beach day, but I fucking love this calm, serene moment so much more.
“Biggest lie I ever told . . . hmm . . .” She pauses, and then she answers, “Most recently? Probably when I told Priya that I wasn’t interested in you.”
“Really?” I ask, dragging the word out. Interesting. I never would have expected that answer, especially since she’s always poking at my ego. All that did was inflate it some more. “That doesn’t seem like a big lie, more like avoidance.”
“Probably, but I couldn’t think of anything. I’ve always been truthful with my parents. I’m sure there’s some sort of lie I told a friend back in the day, but I can’t think of any. That’s the most recent thing that came to mind. Trust me, it pained me saying it.”
I chuckle. “And why’s that?”
“Because I don’t want you getting the impression that I like you.”
“But you do.”
“Yes, but I don’t need you knowing that. I’m still not one hundred percent sold on you.”
“That’s fair. How can I change your mind?”
“Time,” she answers. “That and another truth or dare.”
“Truth, then.”
Stiffening, she asks, “Have you ever cheated on anyone?”
“Never,” I answer. She looks back at me and my eyes connect with hers, emanating the truth. “Not once. The thought has never crossed my mind.”
“Good to know.” She starts to look away, but I place my fingers on her chin and force her to look at me again.
“And I have no plans of ever cheating. It’s not in my blood.” Her eyes search mine and I decide to elaborate. “I know what it looks like. I’m the charming frat boy who puts on a front but then screws the girls over in the long run. That’s how you first saw me, right?”
“Maybe a little,” she says, guilt heavy in her voice.
“I get it. I really do. But I want you to know, I’m not that guy. I’m loyal as they come, and when I’m serious about a person, I don’t fuck around.” I actually hate that this is something Harmony questions. I’m not a man who would stay with someone if things aren’t working. I’m also not a guy who looks at other girls and wonders if the proverbial grass is greener on the other side. This girl has caught my attention. I pinch her chin. “I have my eyes set on you, Harmony, and I don’t plan on changing that.”
* * *
The sun is kissing the horizon now. We’ve moved our picnic to the base of one of the trio of trees, using part of the blanket to keep us warm as Harmony leans against me and I lean against the tree. It’s comfortable. Feels natural. As if she’s meant to be in my arms.
“When did you start playing baseball?” she asks while bringing her legs up against her chest.
“Young. I was rambunctious as a kid and my dad thought it would be a good idea to teach me patience. So, when I was five, he signed me up for tee ball. He has videos of me running all around the field, being that kid, while the others try to play the game. Parents hated me. I heard my dad get in an argument with one about my behavior. Didn’t change what I was doing.”
“You, a hellion? Nooo,” she says with humor.
“It took me two seasons to calm down and start to develop patience. And that’s when I started falling in love with the sport.”
“Was it challenging playing baseball and growing up in the city?”
I wince. “Well, we had private cages where we went to for practice.”
“So, you were very lucky.”
“Pretty much.”
“Since you grew up in the city, are you a Yankees or a Mets fan?”
“As if that’s even a question. Yankees. I was just old enough to be able to fall in love with Derek Jeter at shortstop. Caught some games with Mo on the mound. But even though Dad had the money for the fancy seats behind home plate, he enjoyed watching the games with the rowdy fans. We hung out in right field and on occasion Dad would grab seats with the bleacher creatures, but that wasn’t until I was older and Dad didn’t mind me hearing all the taunting and bad language.”
“Let me guess—you taunted as well?
“Hell yeah. It’s what you do when you’re a Yankees fan. You’re loud, you’re obnoxious, and you expect wins.”
“You plan on going pro, right?”
“Yeah, hoping to get drafted at the end of this year,” I answer, slowly rubbing my thumb over her exposed arm.
“So, when you play and someone heckles you, do you think you can handle it?”
“If I can handle your snark, I’m pretty sure I can handle a fan in the stands.”
She chuckles. “I’m not that snarky.”
“Snarky enough, babe.”
“I get it from my mom. She’s always had a level of snark I’ve aspired to.”
“And what level are you at now compared to your mom?”
“I would say I’m about two levels higher than her, so you should be scared.”
I shiver under her. “Shaking in my skin.”
She laughs and then sighs. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late and I have early classes, followed by studying and a long shift at the diner.”
“Let me steal a few more minutes,” I say softly.
She turns so her eyes connect with mine. “Steal a few more minutes?”
I nod and tip her chin up. “Just a few more. Please.”
Her smile is sweet, addicting. “Only because you asked politely.” She goes to turn her gaze back to the lake, but I stop her and help her shift so she’s leaning against one of my arms rather than my chest. I want to be able to look at her beautiful face, at least for a few more minutes.
“Tell me, Harmony, what’s a difficulty in your life right now?”
“A difficulty? Why do you ask? Are you going to help solve it?”
“Maybe. Or I can just help you talk through it. That’s what relationships are about.”
“So, we’re in a relationship now?” Her brows raise.
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, why not? I like you, and you’re clearly infatuated with me. Might as well make it official.”
“You’re far too sure of yourself.”
“Tell me you don’t like me.”
Her lips seal up and I chuckle.
“That’s what I thought. Now, tell me about a difficulty so your handsome and smells-good boyfriend can help you.”
“Wow.” She shakes her head in humor. “You forgot to add delusional in there.”
“Just talk to me.”
Sighing heavily, she says, “Fine. I’ve been having a hard time finding an internship. The only ones that seem to have open positions are asking for heavy hours that I can’t fulfill because of my job.”
“Shit, that sucks. Are they paid internships?”
She shakes her head. “No. But are there any paid internships out there? Especially for journalism?”
“Maybe.” I shrug while my mind starts to reel with possibilities. “I would keep looking. Who knows? Something might land on your lap.”
Her hand lifts to my cheek and her fingers drag along my jaw. “You’re cute for being so positive.”
“You hit a roadblock. No need to throw in the towel.”
“Not throwing in the towel. Just need a breather for a second before I dive back into the pool of rejection.”
“Within that pool, there’s an acceptance somewhere. I know it.”
She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “Holt Green, it scares me how good you are for me.”
That comment puts a smile on my face. “Don’t be scared, babe, be happy.” I lift my hand to her jaw and stroke her cheek with my thumb. “There was a reason you served my table that fateful drunken night. We were meant to meet.”
“Jumping the gun,” she whispers as I bring her closer in my arms.
“Overly confident. I know what I like, and I like you.” I rest my forehead against hers and continue to stroke her cheek. “Tell me you like me.”
Quietly, she says, “I like you, Holt.”
That’s all I need. Angling her mouth toward mine, I brush my lips against hers, testing out her reaction, and when she doesn’t pull away, I kiss her.
The Strike Out Page 10