Six Month Rule (Kingston Ale House)

by A. J. Pine

  “You’re the only kid around here, Jeremy. And I thought you gave up waiting tables when Jamie made you manager.”

  Will leaned back in his chair and regarded the two of them, arms crossed over his chest and lips in a tight line. But he said nothing.

  Jeremy shrugged. “You got one year on me, Holls. That only counts in high school years, and we’ve been done with that long enough for it not to hold any weight. As for waiting tables? Only when it’s a beautiful day like today and I get to do the beer garden.” He looked back and forth between Holly and Will, his grin widening. “Casual dress with an air of uncertainty—I’m calling it business with potential.”

  Holly coughed just as she was about to sip her water.

  “Sorry,” Will finally interrupted. “But do you two know each other?”

  Holly groaned.

  “Just my friend Annie’s annoying little brother,” she said.

  Jeremy brought a hand to his heart with an exaggerated gasp. Then he held a hand out to Will.

  “Jeremy Denning,” he said. “Annoying little brother at your service.”

  Will shook his hand but still eyed Jeremy warily.

  “Jeremy, Will is in Chicago for a bit while he and I work together on a project for Trousseau.”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “Business it is, then. Can I start you two with an appetizer?”

  Holly wasn’t sure if she had the stomach for food any longer.

  “I’ll have a pint of the Kingston IPA,” Holly blurted—not exactly an hors d’oeuvre—and smiled, sure Jeremy could see right through her.

  “Right,” Will said, clearing his throat. “Make that two.”

  Jeremy raised a brow.

  “Like I said.” He smiled. “Business with potential.” He winked again, and Holly wanted to crawl under the table. Then she realized hiding out with Will’s legs in those great-fitting jeans would not ease the situation, so she thought better of it. After all, Jeremy was right. If things went according to plan, Holly and Will would be on their way to potential.

  …

  “Here we go!” Jeremy set a plate down in front of Holly. “Fish and chips for the lady. And…” Doing the same for Will, he added, “Fish and chips for the gentleman. Malt vinegar, ketchup, salt and pepper—it’s all on the table. Anything else I can get for you?”

  As much as Holly did not want to be under Jeremy’s watchful eyes, she kind of didn’t want him to leave. Because that would mean she’d have to start talking to Will instead of insisting she had to answer phantom emails from Andrea or bringing her pint to her lips every time it seemed like Will was going to ask her something. After all, Holly had set up this meeting. She’d been so sure of herself when she saw him in the elevator this morning, but now?

  What if he said no? Charlie had jumped at the chance for six months of fun, no broken hearts at the end. And it had worked out perfectly. They didn’t have to see each other every day if things got awkward, but things never did. Charlie was just as committed to not committing as Holly was. It was kind of a win-win other than Holly really not being into him anymore.

  “Can I ask you something?” Will reached for the malt vinegar and doused his whole plate as he spoke. “Or do you have another email to respond to?”

  Holly’s eyes darted from her phone to Will’s, then she instinctively put a french fry in her mouth and held up a finger since she couldn’t possibly speak while chewing.

  “Did you order fish and chips because I’m English?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up into a teasing, lopsided grin.

  Holly swallowed her fry—and her hesitation.

  “Did you order fish and chips because you’re English?” she asked with small chuckle.

  Now Will sprinkled salt over his vinegar-doused plate. “When it’s done proper, and when I ache for home, sure.” He picked up a fry soaked with vinegar and dropped it in his mouth, his tongue reaching below his bottom lip to catch a rogue drip.

  Holly’s mouth watered, so she ate another of her own fries to occupy her needy taste buds.

  “That’s not how you eat yours, is it?” he asked, and her eyes widened. Will shook the bottle of vinegar. “Either you do it proper or—I’m sorry. I can’t let you eat that.”

  Holly washed the fry down with a sip of her IPA.

  “You can’t let me? You’re kidding, right?”

  Will’s expression was impassive.

  “I don’t kid about fish and chips.”

  Yeah, he didn’t kid about much at all, come to think of it.

  “If you call them chips, then what do you call real chips?” she asked and popped another fry.

  “You’re just stalling now,” Will said, grinning as he leaned toward her. “You think if you distract me, I’ll let you continue this mockery you’ve made of my country.”

  She snorted. “Mockery? You’re joking, right? Will Evans knows how to make a joke?”

  “Crisps,” he continued. “We call chips crisps. And fries are chips. Trucks are lorries, cookies, biscuits, and elevators, lifts. There’s your American-to-English dictionary, love. Now you have a choice, Ms. Chandler. You can try a proper chip…” He lifted one off his plate and pointed it at her. “Or you can tell me why you asked me here for a meeting that seems on the verge of never actually starting.”

  “Both!” Holly blurted, not giving herself time to think. Nope, it was time to dive in. She watched him waver for a second, could see the wheels turning. He could drop the fry and let her call his bluff, or he could keep right on leaning closer, sliding his elbow across the table until his fingers met her mouth.

  She watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as a sort of nod—a decision.

  Will went with option number one.

  First Holly tasted the salt as the fry—or perhaps the chip—hit the tip of her tongue. Not a big fan of pickles, she had always thought the vinegar was to blame. But as Will’s fingers came closer to her mouth, pushing the fry farther back on her tongue, she felt the tang on her taste buds and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her parted lips.

  “Mmm,” she said softly, closing her lips over the edge of the fry, Will’s fingers escaping, but not before the tip of one brushed her chin. “I stand corrected.” Holly licked her lips. “Thank you for showing me the error of my ways, Mr. Evans.”

  Will cleared his throat. “Come on, Holly,” he said. “What’s this about? Lunch—the afternoon? So far it doesn’t feel quite like a meeting, and I thought—”

  “I don’t date,” Holly interrupted.

  There. She’d put it out there. Now all she had to do was follow through.

  Will’s brows pulled together, and his mouth hung open as he stopped midbite. So she continued.

  “Friday night was—a lot of things. I wasn’t expecting the evening to go in the direction it did. I mean, we work together. I’m from here. You’re from there. I have career advancement to worry about and you have a—a—”

  “A Sophie.” Will filled in the blank.

  “Right. A Sophie. And I get it, Will. I do. You’re a father, and I’m certainly not in any position to impose on that when… Family? Holy progeny, Batman. Not even on my radar.”

  “Holy progeny—?”

  Nope. She couldn’t let him take the wheel. Not now. Holly had to steer this baby home.

  “What’s your sign?” she asked.

  Will seemed to have lost interest in his food and drink altogether as he leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his already breeze-tousled hair.

  “Taurus. I don’t understand—”

  “See?” She bounced in her seat. “See? A Gemini and a Taurus?” She scoffed. “We’re so completely wrong for each other. If we dated it would never work out.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you really believe in all that? That the stars decide who’s right for whom?”

  She groaned. “No. I mean…I don’t know. I’m just saying that the odds are stacked against our compatibility, which is
actually in our favor.”

  She felt like they were speaking two languages. She had to get to the good part so he’d understand.

  Holly huffed out a breath. “We kissed.”

  He nodded. “We kissed.”

  Will wasn’t stopping her, so she was going to soldier on, see how far they’d get.

  “And it was good, right? Like really good.”

  Another slow nod. “Christ, Holly.” His voice was soft and rough. If she closed her eyes, she could swear they were in the middle of that kiss again, because she knew Will was replaying it in his head just as she was in hers. “It was bloody spectacular.”

  His words came out like a confession.

  “I don’t date,” Holly repeated. “Not seriously, anyway. Because it always seems to fall apart around six months. And you?” She smiled softly, waiting for him to catch on. “You’re only here—”

  “For six months.” He blew out a breath. He was up to speed, but she could still sense his hesitation. “Holly. We work together.”

  “I know. Good thing we both have the same goal—the best show possible for Tallulah Chan.”

  “And I go home to London every weekend I can. For Sophie. Sophie always comes first.”

  “I know.” She nodded, then offered him a teasing grin. “And work comes first for me. But there are all those weekday evenings—and days like today.”

  Their food was growing cold, and Holly didn’t think either of them cared.

  Will leaned forward on his elbows. “What are you proposing, Ms. Chandler?”

  He wasn’t smiling. Not yet. But he was interested, and that was all she needed.

  Holly leaned forward as well, palms flat on the table. Her fingertips brushed his.

  “Do you think about that kiss?” she asked, her lips so close to his.

  “I do.”

  “Do you think about what could have come after that kiss?”

  Holly fought not to squirm in her seat as her core burned with the memory of Friday night.

  “I do,” he said again, and his warm breath ghosted across her lips.

  “What if you didn’t have to worry about what this meant for you and for Sophie? What if while you’re here, we work during the day, and at night—when we’re both up for it—we take advantage of spectacular? Everything runs its course by the time you leave, and we end up with a lovely half a year spent putting together a brilliant fashion show and getting all that kissing stuff out of our system.”

  Will shook his head. “You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s like dating, but without all the expectations and heartache. We enjoy the honeymoon phase and call it a day.”

  “Just like that?” he asked, and she nodded, her lips so close to brushing against his.

  “Just. Like. That.”

  He reached a hand toward the back of her head. “I’ve got one condition,” he said. This was it. He was going to kiss her, and they’d take this thing between them as far as it would go. But instead she felt a soft tug. Then another. And another after that until her brown hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. “I want to know when we’re off the clock, when we’re no longer office Holly and office Will. Because this show is just as important to me. I can’t cock things up because you smell good or you drive me bloody mad by wearing red shoes.”

  She giggled. “I knew you’d like those.”

  His hand rested on her neck now, under her hair. And despite the heat of the sun overhead, goose bumps broke out all over Holly’s skin.

  “How will I know you’re off the clock?” she asked, feeling bold. “I don’t want to pick the wrong time to do this.” Holly flicked her tongue against his lips, and Will sucked in a sharp breath. She’d caught him off guard, but he didn’t back down.

  “I’ll take off my tie.”

  Her eyes took him in—head, shoulders, torso, and the denim she knew was under the table.

  “You’re not wearing a tie now.”

  Will shook his head.

  “Holly Chandler—whatever happened to your plait?” He tangled his fingers in her hair. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, and she could feel him so close to letting go.

  “I’m sure.”

  His lips tickled hers.

  “Then, Holly Chandler—may I kiss you again?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “God, I love it when you say May I?”

  And again she answered him without words, just with her lips on his, outside in a beer garden—over two plates of fish and chips.

  What was he doing? This wasn’t okay. This wasn’t what he’d come to the States for. He was here for Sophie. All he had to do was make it through the first of the year and he was a free man, free to be the father he should have been since day one, to put his daughter first.

  But hell if Holly Chandler wasn’t breathing new life into him with every brush of her lips, that tease of her tongue.

  “We shouldn’t do this here,” he said gently against her mouth.

  “I know.” She laughed softly, pulling away, and Christ, he’d have let her keep kissing him despite the public display, because it had been too long since he’d felt anything other than guilt or disappointment at the choices he’d made.

  “I’m not really hungry anymore,” she said. “For pub fare, I mean.”

  As if the kiss wasn’t enough to bring him back to life, the insinuation in Holly’s tone sent Will reeling—and straining against his goddamn jeans.

  “Can’t say I am, either.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, but she put her hand on his before he could retrieve his bank card.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “I set up this meeting, which means lunch is on me. Ask me to dinner sometime, and maybe I’ll let you take care of the bill.”

  Dinner. Would he take her to dinner? What, exactly, had they just agreed to? Will couldn’t think clearly, not with thoughts of his lips on hers again. But they were supposed to be doing something other than kissing, right? There was a reason she’d had him clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon.

  “Windows!” he blurted as Holly left cash on the table next to their uneaten food. “You were going to show me windows, right? For design ideas.”

  Holly stood and grabbed his hand, urging him to join her.

  “My apartment has windows,” she said. “Can I show you those first?”

  Will swallowed hard. They were really going to do this. Now. This was mad. Holly Chandler and her six-month plan were just plain mad. But he wanted her more than logic could argue, and he knew if he didn’t get this wanting out of his system, this job would be fucked, and his superiors would find a way to take that sabbatical from him. As it stood now, if he fulfilled the terms of his contract, he’d have a year off with job security. But fuck it all up, and he’d lose the job completely. Sure, there was enough money to live leisurely for a year, to take care of Sophie, and even to put away for her. But he wasn’t set for life. Far from it. He had to wade into these waters with care.

  But right now, he couldn’t think past the next three minutes. He just needed to see those windows.

  “Yes,” he answered, letting her pull him from the table, passing Jeremy on the way.

  Holly paused for a moment as Jeremy looked toward their table and then back at them, grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat.

  “Enjoy your potential,” Jeremy said, and Holly backhanded him on the shoulder while Will stayed quiet. Not like he could disagree about what lay ahead for them.

  We will, he thought instead, as Holly led him through the beer garden’s gate and out onto the sidewalk.

  He remembered their walk Friday night, how they’d lingered with each step, the feeling that neither of them wanted to reach their destination because that would mean the night would end. Now they practically raced to Holly’s flat, Will barely remembering the journey until his back was against the door she’d disappeared into only three days ago.

  Hidden from t
he street under the door’s small overhang, Holly whispered to him, “May I kiss you, Will Evans?”

  He was dizzy with need, but he was with it enough to remember that he didn’t live his life like this anymore. When he’d come home from that Paris trip six and a half years ago to find Tara had left him for Phillip while he was gone, Will had felt a sense of relief. He’d been only twenty-six, on fire at Spotlight PR. Being single would give him the freedom to do what he loved, what he was damn good at, without anything or anyone holding him back.

  Until Tara told him she was pregnant, and tests confirmed the baby was his.

  “Holly, wait.”

  She stopped, and he rested a palm lightly on her cheek while his other hand fisted at his side.

  “You’re having second thoughts,” she said, and the light in her green eyes dimmed. “It’s okay,” she added. “I knew there was a chance this would be too much. I mean, we barely know each other, but God, the heat between us, right? Maybe it’s that whole opposites-attract thing. I don’t know. I just thought if I could get it out of my system—let my little crush run its course—by the time we were ready for the show, we’d be past all this…this…need.”

  She ducked under his arm, and Will instinctively moved out of the way as she stuck her key in the lock. She turned back as she pushed the door open and shrugged.

  “Meeting adjourned, I guess?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. He kissed her again, and Holly’s eyes grew wide, but she melted into him nonetheless. When he felt her relax, he pulled away to speak.

  “Do you ever stop talking?” he asked, and she opened her mouth to respond but then, he assumed, thought better of it. “Right,” he continued. “I just wanted to set some parameters before we go inside. Is that all right?”

  She nodded and leaned against the door, backing it open into her flat.

  “I’m not some prick who’s going to just walk in there for a one-off shag and be on my way. I don’t know exactly how the next five or so months are supposed to go, but I—I’m—quite fond of you, Holly. And maybe we are wrong for each other outside this next half a year, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do some things right before I go.”