Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  All Cole, all the time makes my stomach churn. I stand to make a dash for the ladies’ room, but Kim and Melanie block my exit like two schoolyard bullies. Kim starts in, “So, how’s the social media stuff going, Rosie?”

  I bristle at the moniker. Only Mom can call me that. Taking a deep breath, I say, “It’s Rose, and the social media is going fine.”

  The look Kim gives me tells me that I should have let the insult pass. “That’s nice. I’ve been busy meeting with the PI and telling Emilie’s people about her new living arrangements. I presume Greta shared my idea about having her move in with Cole?”

  Melanie chimes in, “That was brill, Kim. I bet Greta just loved that.”

  The two smile at each other. I want them gone.

  Melanie continues, “Oh, and I’ve gotten Jessie and Brandan all squared away, too. Of course, I’ve ignored your quaint strategy. They’ll be the talk of the town once Kim makes all this Starr stuff go away.”

  I bet Melanie hasn’t shared her new plan with Jessie. “Greta approved my strategy.”

  “Well, she’s now approved my strategy. Jessie and Brandan are my talent.”

  “C’mon, Mel, let’s go get lunch.” The two prance away.

  A sinking feeling takes up residence in my chest. Poor Jessie. And how do those two even have time to go out to lunch? All I’m doing is checking social media, and I don’t have more than ten minutes to grab a sandwich. Not that I have any appetite.

  A few minutes later, I return to my desk and run searches for Cole’s wife across all of his social media platforms. Seems like many women have appropriated her name. I begin to sift through them, trying to figure out if any is the real deal.

  Cole’s ringtone blares from inside my drawer. I can’t keep avoiding him. Time to pull up my big girl panties and talk with him.

  “Hello.” I grab my stress ball.

  “Rose,” he says on an exhale. “Are you all right? You weren’t hurt last night, were you?”

  It’s a good thing that I didn’t eat lunch, as the sound of Cole’s concerned voice is twisting my intestines into knots. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. The rock went through a window in the laundry room.”

  “Thank God. I was flying home when that happened, but Wills got the scoop from Roberto. This is such a clusterfuck.”

  “No argument here.”

  “I need to know.” He clears his throat. “Are you and Marco back together?”

  I squeeze the stress ball like it’s filled with air rather than the dense foam. “Really, Cole? You went off and hooked up with Starr—married her—and all you can do is ask if I’m back together with my ex-boyfriend?”

  “I didn’t fucking get married.”

  So he says. Whatever. I remain silent and Cole continues, “Look, Starr is the stalker.”

  “I kinda got that.”

  Not commenting on my snotty tone, he continues, “Kates is trying to track her down.”

  “Greta hired a PI to do the same.”

  “I know. That girl, Kim, called to fill me in. Who is she and why’s she on my team?”

  Squeeze. “Greta’s decision. Kim is now handling the PI as well as your public romance with Emilie, who, by the way, is moving into your house when she’s done in New York.”

  “Fuck.”

  There’s nothing for me to add.

  “Rose, I didn’t get married. Yes, I did get drunk and leave Caesar’s with Starr, but I didn’t have sex with her. She wanted to, and I was really pissed about Marco and what went down in Jersey, but in the end I couldn’t do that to you. Or us.”

  I close my eyes. I want to believe him, but my need to protect myself is too great. The wall around my heart is, once again, a fortress.

  “Feel free to do whatever you want with your personal life. It’s best if we go back to how things were before . . .” I exhale. “I’m just one of your account reps.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  No. “Yes.”

  Long pause. “Goodbye for now, Rose.” He disconnects the call.

  Why can’t he just leave me alone? Why don’t I want him to? Dammit.

  The stress ball sails across my office.

  Monday evening

  I’M PULLING INTO my garage when the clock on the dash reads seven p.m. Phew. McKenna’s plane should have just landed, so I’ll have time to shower and change before she gets here. Today sucked and I want to wash it away.

  If only that were possible.

  Roberto parks behind me and walks over to Mike’s car. Turns out the kid Mike caught last night was paid one hundred dollars by “some woman” to throw the rock through my window. He doesn’t know Starr and can’t identify her, so it’s a dead end. Why am I not surprised? After last night’s incident, Cole’s PI Nolan Kates assigned another guard to watch the back of my rental.

  The one bright spot today was when Shari stopped by my office on her way out to wish me a good evening. Now McKenna’s coming, and at least I won’t be alone anymore. I just hope she’s understanding about all of this.

  In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and let the water heat up while dumping my work clothes in the hamper. This afternoon’s conversation with Cole keeps replaying in my mind. His sexy voice makes me want to reach out to him. But I can’t. Won’t.

  I step into the shower, and the water cascades over my body. Of course, now all I can think about is shower sex with Cole. Before him, I never had shower sex. Chris was a more conventional lover, and Marco and I were limited given that we were both in high school when we dated. Now, Cole and I have christened at least three showers, including this one.

  Remembering the best sex of my life certainly will not help me get over him, so I push those memories away, scrub furiously and exit the shower. I’m finished dressing and drying my hair when the doorbell rings.

  A smile of anticipation crosses my face as I make my way to the front door. As soon as I open it, McKenna pulls me into a hug. “Rose! I’m so excited to be here with you.”

  Giggling at her exuberance, I open the door wider and invite her in, then step outside to help her with her bags. “Plan on staying for a while?” I ask, given the number of suitcases she brought.

  “I never learned how to pack light. I need to have options.”

  “Some things never change. Let’s put these in your room and then we can talk.” I lead her to Tommy’s old room, passing by the taped-up laundry room window.

  “What’s up with the window?”

  “That’s a long story. Someone threw a rock through it last night.”

  “I can’t believe you pissed anyone off that badly,” she says, winking.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “I want to hear all about it, but can we do it over dinner? I’m starved.” She flips her hair, showing off a new blue streak.

  Since it’s her first night here, I can hardly refuse. “I don’t have any food in here. I’ve been away for a week.”

  “On the plane, I read about this amazing place for fried chicken and waffles. It’s called Gorman’s, I think. Have you been there?”

  “No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard of the chain. Want to try it out?”

  “My mouth has been watering ever since I read the words ‘fried chicken’ and ‘waffles’ used in the same sentence.”

  “Great. Why don’t you freshen up, and I’ll let Roberto know where we’re headed.”

  McKenna stops and looks at me. “Did you get back together with your man?”

  “Huh? What?”

  “Roberto. Is he the guy you were crying about in Vegas?”

  A small laugh escapes. “No, Roberto is my bodyguard. I’m not getting back together with my ex.”

  “Oh, sorry. My bad.”

  “No worries.”

  She opens one of her suitcases, but stops abruptly. “Why do you have a bodyguard?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  “Boy, you’re full of long stories. Hey, is Robert
o cute and available?” She raises and lowers her eyebrows several times.

  I reply, “He is cute, but I’m not sure if he’s single.”

  “We’ll find out tonight. There’s no better cure than to get right back on that horse again.”

  WE PULL UP to Gorman’s Chicken and Waffles in under an hour. If we’d gone to the one in Inglewood, we would be eating by now. However, as it’s located on Manchester Street, I decided to go to the one in Hollywood instead. McKenna’s been very animated throughout the car ride, pointing out landmarks with the sort of enthusiasm that even makes me excited to see them.

  Once seated, McKenna says, “Thank you so much for letting me crash at your place. I know it’s not the best timing, but I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. I’m swamped at work, but so long as you don’t mind being on your own here in LA, I’m glad this worked out. It’ll be good to have the company at home.”

  “Me, too. Hey, what’s up with Roberto?” She nods her head in his direction. “I mean, why do you have a bodyguard?”

  Before I can answer, the waitress comes over to take our order. I’ve gotten used to waitresses giving me the evil eye while trying to flirt with my dinner companion, but tonight I’m out with McKenna, not Cole, and our server is disinterested.

  After our server walks off, McKenna resumes our conversation, “Where were we? Oh yes, you were going to tell me all about why you have a bodyguard. Does it have something to do with the broken window in your house?”

  I look down and catch myself flicking my thumb sequentially on each one of my fingers, a coping strategy my therapist suggested following Chris’s death. Linking my hands together, I park them both in my lap. “The guy I was dating—”

  “The asshat who you were crying over last weekend?”

  Smiling, I continue, “Yeah, him. Well, he has a stalker who has been sending me threatening notes and stuff so Co—the asshat—had bodyguards assigned to me. Roberto sticks with me, and a few other guys watch the rental. Today, another guard was assigned to the backyard because of the rock throwing incident. Plus, the police added extra patrols.”

  “Wow.” We stop talking briefly when our drinks are delivered. McKenna takes a sip of her beer and continues, “Is your ex paying for the protection not being provided by the LAPD?”

  “Yes.”

  “He wants you back.” She emphasizes her statement by placing her glass on the table with a definitive thud.

  Grimacing, I take a gulp of white wine, which has lost all of its sweetness. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, since I’m not taking him back. My job is in serious jeopardy because of him. I can’t risk it.”

  She leans forward. “How does he figure into your job being in jeopardy? Does he work with you?”

  No one outside of family and extremely close friends know about us. Plus Starr, apparently. I’m only getting reacquainted with McKenna; at NYU, she was my closest confidante, but that was a lifetime ago. Still, I can’t keep this in any longer . . .

  “Can I trust you?”

  She blinks. “You know you can.” She looks around the restaurant and then whispers, “Oh my God, is he a Navy Seal who’s on a deadly mission that somehow involves your employer? That would explain the bodyguards.”

  “Uh, no.”

  “I know, I know. He’s your UPS guy, and he messed up an important work delivery.”

  I giggle. “Nope.”

  “Hmmm. I got it! He’s an Oscar-winning movie star who makes everyone drool and stop working when he stops by the office to take you to lunch.”

  Sucking in my breath, I respond, “Closer.”

  Our conversation is interrupted again when our food is unceremoniously delivered to our table. We look down at our dishes and then exchange plates so that McKenna gets her order of a quarter chicken smothered in gravy with two waffles and a side of sweet potato pie, and I get my fried chicken breast and waffle.

  How do I say this? “You already know that I work in PR. My boss is a big time heavyweight. She has A-list clients and a strict non-fraternization policy. Well, he’s one of her clients.”

  McKenna looks up from her waffle. “So she found out that you guys were dating?”

  “Thankfully, no.” She gives me a quizzical look. This is my old friend, and I can trust her. The need to share that’s welled up inside me insists that I do. “I wasn’t supposed to be in Las Vegas, but I wanted to see my boyfriend. I ended up running into my boss there, and she put me to work.”

  I take a deep breath. Here goes. “The publicity from Vegas should have been about his new single, but instead the media was all abuzz with his wedding. I failed to prevent that explosion, so she put me on probation.”

  McKenna blinks. I see her putting the puzzle pieces together. In a hushed tone, she utters, “Cole Manchester?”

  Placing my fork down next to my barely eaten meal, I nod.

  McKenna’s eyes widen to almost double their normal size, then a smile creeps across her face until it can’t get any bigger. Her fork clatters to her plate. “You go, girl! You caught your college crush.” Her hands raise upward and she mouths, “Whoop! Whoop!”

  After her celebration dies down, she picks up her fork and takes another bite of her waffle. Chewing it slowly, she says, “But wait. Why did he get married to someone else when he told you that he loves you?” She punctuates her words with her fork.

  “You have a good memory. He says he didn’t get married. But I don’t know what to believe. This is all so confusing.”

  “Oh Rookie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Now a tiny hole has punctured the dam, I can’t keep the words from spilling out. I confess to McKenna all about the awful Jersey trip, Marco, the phone call with Cole today and my job woes.

  “So, things started to get rocky between you two because of your Mom. Some things never change.” She and Mom never had seen eye-to-eye. “Just because I changed my major three times freshman year and, yeah, dated a couple of guys at once, doesn’t mean that I was—what did she call me? —flighty. I was a free spirit. If I didn’t say it before, I’m sorry for all the shit she put you through because of my behavior.”

  “I handled it. She just wanted me to be focused on my education only.” I sigh, remembering the many arguments Mom and I had about my college career in general, and McKenna in particular. “She mellowed a bit over the years. After Chris was killed . . .”

  McKenna puts her hand over mine.

  Clearing my throat, I continue, “Well, she was very supportive of my coming out here and taking the job with Greta.” I take another sip of wine. “Okay, that’s enough about me. Tell me about you. How did your boss react when you told him that you were taking off for a few days, starting immediately?”

  She replies, “Oh, she was fine with it.”

  The twinkle in her eyes makes me think there’s more to the story. “She must be a very understanding boss. The only reason I got to go to New Jersey last week was because Greta’s client needed help choosing photos for his upcoming music video.”

  McKenna raises her eyebrow when I don’t say Cole’s name. “My boss is the best. I just looked in the mirror and said, ‘I’m outta here.’”

  “You own your own business?” She gives me a broad smile as she steals half of the remaining waffle from my plate. “I’m impressed. I can’t wait to tell Mom.”

  McKenna snorts. “I bet she’ll be shocked that such a ‘flighty’ girl turned into a respectable citizen.”

  “I kept telling her that you were going places. I don’t know anyone who owns their own business, aside from my boss, of course. And Marco.”

  “Now you do.”

  “How could you get away?”

  “Graphic design is mobile. I barely ever meet with my clients in-person. Most of my work is done over the phone and by email. I could be across the world for all they know or care. So long as I don’t miss a deadline, it’s all good.”

  “That’s cool.”

&nb
sp; “Yeah. I have some awesome clients. Maybe I can pick up some more out here.”

  “How long are you planning on staying?”

  “I’m not sure. Vegas was getting too small, if you know what I mean.”

  “That guy you were dating?”

  “Exactly.”

  The server comes and clears our table. She asks without looking at us, “Anything else?”

  McKenna pipes up, “I’d like a Hot Chocolate.”

  The server gives her a look that communicates her disapproval, then shifts her gaze to me. McKenna may be heavier than the waifs around here, but so what? She’s healthy. I’m glad that she seems oblivious to the server’s reaction. Even though I don’t have an appetite, I say, “Make that two.”

  We’re enjoying our drinks when McKenna blurts out, “This place is so much fun. Great food and super awesome people watching.” She points to a young couple seated a couple of tables over. “What do you think? First date?”

  I glance at their table. Shrugging, I respond, “Nah. At least third date.”

  She takes a sip. “Should we tell her to run away now before it’s too late?”

  “They could be soul mates.”

  We look at them. The girl looks down at her lap and the guy plays with her hair. A stunning model-type walks by, but his gaze doesn’t waver.

  McKenna comments, “Maybe she found the last good guy.”

  “Lucky her.” I used to think that Cole was the last good guy, but I was wrong. I use the corner of the napkin to dab a tear.

  I set my mug to the side, no longer able to enjoy even the silky taste of chocolate.

  McKenna pushes it back toward me. “Hey. Things aren’t over between you and him yet. Trust me.”

  The front doors fling open. Two very loud, very drunk guys stumble into the restaurant, making more noise than should be humanly possible. Diners stand up as the drunks make their way inside.

  “I see that Vegas doesn’t have the market cornered on obnoxious drunk guys.”

  “True. Let’s get the check.” I pull out my cell and check the time. “It’s getting late anyway, and I have to be at the office early.”