It wasn’t always easy, but Holly loved her fixer-upper cottage, one of the last remaining outbuildings on what had once been a palatial estate belonging to William Penn, for whom the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania was named.
She loved having the freedom to stay in her PJs all day long if she wanted to. And she loved the fact that what little she had was hers and hers alone, and she didn’t have to share with bitchy older siblings, annoying younger ones, or—the worst of all possible creatures—roommates.
She’d had enough of them to last a lifetime. First at home, sharing a room with her sisters. Then at the state university, where she had been paired with a girl whose biggest college achievement was being selected as a little sister in one of the nastiest frats on campus. Really, if you were into that whole “brotherhood/sisterhood” thing, why not at least go for a sorority? And, of course the coup de grace—her disappointing attempts to find a compatible, mature young adult to share an apartment in town.
If there was one thing Holly had learned about herself over the years, it was that she didn’t like having roommates. There was no faster way to dislike a person and ruin what might have been a good friendship than by moving in with someone.
In Holly’s experience, the quiet, shy ones turned out to be noisy and annoying, especially when she was trying to do something that required peace and quiet, like reading or writing, the two things Holly loved to do most. The perfectly coiffed Debs were actually pigs behind closed doors, and the steadfast and loyal types often proved untrustworthy in the end, stiffing her for rent and horking her food.
The absolute worst thing about roommates? It wasn’t sharing a kitchen or microscopic living room, but a communal bathroom. Holly had yet to find anyone aware of, much less a devout practitioner of, the ass-tag convention. Her last cohabiter actually had the nerve to look at her like she was crazy for having even brought it up. As if getting out of the shower and wanting to know that you could dry your face without having to worry if the same towel had just dried someone’s ass was a bad thing!
Honestly. And they thought she was the weird one.
Holly sat back and re-read the last few paragraphs, her face flushing and her body heating from the latest in a series of really hot scenes. She decided her alpha muse would just have to remain in her deepest, darkest fantasies, only coming to life on the pages of her stories and her dreams.
Who needed the real thing when she had a writer’s imagination and Vinny?
Chapter 6
Sunday dawned clear and bright, a perfect early summer day, ideal for doing a few minor repairs around the house. There were some shingles that had blown loose in the last Nor’easter that Adam needed to secure, the rotting step on the back porch he had to replace, and that leaky faucet in the kitchen he had been trying to find the time to fix for months now.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have what he needed on hand. It was a damn good thing that new home improvement center opened up in Covendale. He could drive into town and pick up everything in one trip without having to waste daylight running all over the county for roofing, lumber, and plumbing supplies.
After paying for his purchases, Adam loaded up his truck and breathed in the heavenly scent of grilled beef, which set his stomach rumbling. He decided to grab a bite at Lou’s Diner while he was in town. Everyone knew Lou had the best burgers, and chances were, he wouldn’t get around to eating again until much later that night.
The place was packed, but that was no surprise. Lou’s was a staple in the small, northeast community.
After waiting a couple minutes, Adam was shown to a booth along the window. Foregoing the menu since he knew just what he wanted, he waited for the server to come by for his order as he looked outside. He was mildly surprised when he realized his seat had a perfect view of the bookstore across the parking lot.
Or had he subconsciously ended up exactly where he wanted to be?
“I’M SORRY THE GUY DIDN’T show, Liz,” Holly said, clutching her bag of discounted paperbacks and her signed copy of the murder/suspense hardcover. She had hundreds of stories on her e-reader, but sometimes she just wanted to hold a book in her hand, feel the weight of it, smell the pages.
“No biggie,” Liz said with a casual shrug. She had a bag, too, but hers was nearly all historical, period type romances. “It was more for your benefit than mine, anyway.”
Holly stopped dead in her tracks, turning toward her friend in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, he was hot and everything, but too rough around the edges for me, you know? Definitely more your type than mine.”
“I have a type?”
Liz rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. Big, strong, alpha males with a white knight complex.”
Holly gaped at her. “Who wouldn’t want that?”
“Me,” Liz said matter-of-factly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love to read about them. But in real life? Too intense for me. I prefer Armani to Eddie Bauer. Bruno Magli to Red Wings.”
“See a lot of Armani in these parts, do you?” Holly teased.
“No, but I can dream, can’t I?”
ADAM WAS HALFWAY THROUGH his burger when he saw them. The blonde and the brunette came out of the bookstore, each carrying a bag with the store’s logo on it. He watched with mild interest as they walked out into the parking lot together, chatting for a few moments before parting ways.
When they split off in different directions, it was the brunette his eyes instinctively followed. She had a nice walk, a natural sway that was graceful without any attempt to impress.
On the far side of the lot, she stopped by a late model SUV, one of the smaller compact jobs, and got in. The fact that she had been discreetly scanning the lot and had the foresight to check under the car pleased him. Women couldn’t be too careful these days.
A minute later, he caught sight of her chocolate and cherry waves as the dark blue vehicle drove past the diner. Once the taillights were out of sight, Adam sighed and went back to finishing his burger.
On a sudden impulse, he ordered a refill on his cherry Coke and a slice of chocolate cake for dessert.
Thirty minutes later, his heart stuttered a little when he saw the navy Sportage listing off the shoulder of the road. Pulling up behind her, he caught the bob of a dark hair by the front passenger wheel.
Adam put on his flashers and got out to offer his assistance.
HOLLY POKED HER HEAD up over the bumper when she heard the crunch of gravel and saw a late-model pickup pulling to a stop behind her vehicle. Then she stopped breathing entirely when the tall, male form eased from the truck. It was him! The guy from the restaurant!
“Hi,” he said easily. “Need a hand?”
Given the slight hint of amusement in his eyes, he recognized her, too. Thankfully, it seemed as if he was too polite to remind her of their previous encounter. It was definitely a plus in her book. And if the flannel hugging his biceps was any indication, the frozen lug nuts on the rim wouldn’t be a problem for him. Damn Jiffy Lube and their hydraulic tools, anyway.
THE WOMAN RELEASED her death grip on the tire iron and stood up to her full, not-so-impressive height. Pushing her curls back from her face, she left a nice dark streak across her sweaty brow.
Adam tried hard to hide his grin.
“Yes, actually,” she said on an exhale. “I can’t seem to get these nuts off.”
“Well, that is a problem,” he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “Not one I’m personally familiar with, but I’ll do my best.”
She grinned at him, her cheeks pink with an honest-to-God blush. A little explosion went off in his chest. She had the prettiest smile.
It took him a minute to realize she was holding out the tire iron to him.
“Then I humbly defer to your manly expertise.”
It took a few good tugs, but he managed to get the tire off with little trouble. He then turned to ask if she had a spare, only to find her standing behind him with it in her arms. Since it
was a full-size spare—another point in her favor—it covered her practically from knee to shoulder.
“I would have gotten that,” he said, taking it from her.
She shrugged, then stepped back to let him get on with it. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I appreciate it,” he said, meaning it. In his experience, most women wouldn’t have tried to help; they would have been content to sit back and let him do all the work. Not that he would have it any other way, but it was the thought that counted.
He finished changing the tire, then carried the flat to her open trunk. After closing the lid, he removed a blue kerchief from his pocket. Rather than wiping his hands, though, he handed it to her. When she looked at him in confusion, Adam pointed to her forehead.
“You have some grease, right there.”
Holly’s eyes widened, then her cheeks blushed that lovely shade of rose again. He thought he heard her mutter “shit” under her breath, but it was so softly done he wasn’t completely sure.
She took the folded cloth he offered and rubbed vigorously. “Did I get it?”
She had, but Adam couldn’t resist. “Not quite. Here, let me.” He took the kerchief and made a few gentle strokes across her brow. She stood completely still while she looked at him with those big, green doe eyes. It was all he could do not to lean down and kiss the daylights out of her right then and there. He had never felt the urge to kiss a woman quite so fiercely.
“There,” he said, forcing himself to take a step back before he did something stupid. “That ought to do it.”
“Thanks,” she said softly.
Christ, if she didn’t stop looking at him like that, he really was going to do something stupid, like crush that sweet little body up against his to see if she was as soft as he thought. This time, though, he would make sure the contact lasted for more than a millisecond.
He pushed those caveman-like thoughts back down and simply said, “You’re welcome.”
“You know, I bet a hundred cars passed since I pulled over, and you’re the only one who stopped to help.”
Adam didn’t know what to say to that, so he wiped the grease and dirt from his hands and said nothing.
They stood there for a few moments in silence, but it wasn’t as awkward as it should have been. For some reason, Adam was reluctant to leave and simply kept wiping at his palm long after the grime was gone, shooting surreptitious glances at the pretty woman as he did so.
Dressed casually again, hair loose, face relaxed and natural, she was even prettier than he remembered. Then she opened her mouth to say something and Adam inwardly cringed.
Crap. Everything had been going so well. He hoped to hell she wasn’t going to ask him out and ruin it. Or even worse, try to offer him something in recompense for his effort. She was cute and everything, but ...
“Thank you for stopping and helping.”
He blinked, waiting for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he did a mental fist pump.
“You’re welcome.”
She smiled at him again, then turned and walked around the front of her vehicle to get in. From where he stood, it didn’t look as if she was in any particular hurry to leave, either.
“Hey,” he called on a sudden impulse as she placed her hand on the door handle. “What’s your name?”
“Holly. Yours?”
Good, she didn’t offer her last name. That showed intelligence and caution.
“Adam. Do you like coffee, Holly?”
She hesitated. Adam didn’t think he breathed during that time. Then she smiled and nodded. “I like coffee.”
Relief flooded through him. Suddenly, he felt as nervous as a kid.
“Would you like to have some? With me? Now?” Great. He winced inwardly. Way to sound overeager, dumbass.
Her eyes softened around the edges, her smile kind. “No,” she said, dashing his hopes. Thankfully, though, her next words restored them. “I have to go home and let my dog out. But how about later, maybe around seven? Ground Zero?”
“Seven’s good,” he said, pleased with her choice. Ground Zero was a nice, clean, well-lit shop with great coffee and a casual, cozy atmosphere. It was the perfect place for a first date. Not that this was a date; it was more of a pre-date interview. If things went well, they would see. “Shall we meet there?”
Holly nodded. “Sounds good. See you then.”
Only after watching her drive away did he finally let out the breath he had been holding. So far, so good, but he refused to get his hopes up just yet. He had been disappointed too many times before. Further analysis would be relegated until later that night.
Chapter 7
“So, Brandon’s your nephew, huh?” Holly asked, sipping her hazelnut cream coffee.
She refused to get her hopes up. So far, Adam was the perfect gentleman. Besides stopping earlier to change her tire, which had earned him quite a few points, he had asked her out for coffee and was fine with meeting there. He had even been waiting in the parking lot when she had arrived five minutes early, and had held the door open for her in an old-fashioned, and appreciated, gesture. Once inside, he had asked her what she wanted, then took care of ordering and paying.
She was glad she had taken extra time with her appearance, choosing form-fitting faded Levi’s that made her butt look good, and a soft, forest green sweater that accented her eyes. She was especially glad since he looked so ruggedly handsome in his jeans and white button-down with the collar open at the top and his sleeves folded back to reveal corded forearms.
Sitting across from him now, she was also glad she had chosen the corner booth. The muted lighting accentuated the sun-bleached, caramel highlights in his silky, chestnut hair and made her fingers itch to run through it. Two hands on the cup kept her from doing just that.
“I bet he’s a handful.”
“He’s a good kid,” Adam said, sounding honest. “Smart, too. He’s going to make one hell of an engineer.” The way his eyes softened and his lips curved slightly suggested that Adam was both close to and fond of his nephew.
“You’re very proud of him.”
“Yeah. It’s not his fault he inherited his father’s curse.”
Holly’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “A curse, huh? Is that what you call it?”
He chuckled. It was a deep, low, rumbling sound that sent tingling shivers into some of her more womanly parts. “Yeah. Women throw themselves at him all the time. Who would want that?”
“Who indeed?” she hummed, wondering how Adam handled that same cursed affliction.
If she looked closely, she could definitely see some family resemblance, but where Brandon’s features were of the picture-perfect, movie star variety, Adam’s were more rugged. His hair was a bit unruly, as if it had been hastily finger-combed as an afterthought. His skin had the sun-kissed look of someone who spent a good deal of time outside. A brief glance downward revealed strong, capable hands and a few calluses.
Of the two, Holly knew which one she preferred.
“What about you? Any nieces or nephews?” he asked, breaking into her mental inspection.
“A few, but they’re all still pretty young yet. The oldest is in seventh grade, the youngest, about six months.” Thinking of the last time she had seen them—at a family gathering turned intervention—the corners of her mouth curved down slightly.
“You don’t like kids?”
“Hmm?” she hummed, her gaze snapping back to his. Clearly, he had been watching close enough to catch the slight frown she hadn’t stopped in time. She could add “perceptive” to the mental checklist she was creating in her mind. So far, the plus column had a lot more entries than the minus one, which was still shockingly empty. “Oh, no. I love kids. It’s just kind of a sore subject with me.”
“WHY IS THAT?” ADAM asked. Normally, he was not so intrusive right out of the starting gates, but he was determined to find something wrong with her. The sooner, the better, too, because the more time he spent with h
er, the more he was inclined to possibly overlook some of his prerequisites for ascending to the next level, should it become necessary. Once he started settling, he was in trouble.
Holly scratched a non-existent spec from her coffee mug with the tip of her manicured but practically short nail. It was a few minutes before she glanced up at him with a rueful smile. “I have four siblings—two older and two younger—and each of which is married, actively procreating, and professionally employed.”
Adam shrugged, waiting for the innate alarm built into all single males to sound at the reference to marriage and kids, yet it didn’t. Weird. “So?”
She dropped her eyes again but not before he caught a flash of something raw and vulnerable. “So ... I’m thirty, not married, have a dog instead of kids, and work from my home. In my family’s eyes, that equates to the bottom of the ninth, down by a boatload, with a full count, and our worst hitter just off an injury is up to bat. In other words, all but hopeless.”
The baseball analogy amused him, a not-so-subtle attempt to infuse humor in a subject that was obviously painful for her. Instead of shying away from it, she took it, dressed it up a little, and put it right back out there.
“You paint quite a picture.”
She shrugged, but there was no mistaking the stubborn tilt of her chin or the challenge in her eyes. “There’s no use in sugar-coating it. It is what it is.” Then she flashed him a grin. “You seem like a nice enough guy, Adam. You should know what you’re up against.”
Jesus, he liked this woman. “Forewarned is forearmed?”
“Exactly.” She beamed, seemingly pleased that he had caught on so quickly. “As innocent as this is, if my family finds out about you, they’ll hold a family meeting ... after the shock wears off, of course. There’s nowhere you’ll be able to hide that they won’t find you. They’ll probably try to bribe you. It won’t be pretty.”
Five Minute Man: A Contemporary Love Story (Covendale Book 1) Page 3