by Kendall Ryan
The tears are coming steadily now, which makes me feel like even more of an idiot. It’s just a little mistake, but it’s the last thing I needed right now.
“I feel so stupid,” I manage to choke out through sniffles.
He pulls me in again, letting me break down for just a moment in his arms. But I guess Holt Rossi is accepting no pity parties today, because as soon as my breaths slow down, he unhooks his keys from his belt loop, unfurling my fist to place them in my palm.
“Don’t feel stupid. It could have happened to anyone. Breathe, Eden. This is no big deal. We’ll get it fixed, okay?”
I nod, starting to believe him. “I’m supposed to be giving a speech for the kids’ clinic at the arena in . . .” I check my watch, drawing a big breath. “Fifteen minutes.”
“My car’s outside. Take it.”
My brow creases and my tears subside. “But then how will you—”
He shakes his head adamantly. “Nope. No arguing. Just do it. You’ve got kids waiting for you, and I know a repairman I can call. Give me your keys. I’ll wait here while it gets handled.”
Reluctant, I place my key ring in his big palm. “Are you sure about this?”
He gives me a firm nod, wiping the last of my tears away. “Now go inspire the hell out of those kids.”
“Th-thank you,” I sputter, a hint of a smile pulling at my lips. “I really can’t thank you enough for all of—”
Before I can finish the thought, he cuts me off with a firm, silencing kiss that warms every inch of my body. “Go wow ’em, sweetheart,” he whispers, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Okay,” I whisper back, then hurry out to his car, wondering how and why he seems to know just the right things to say to make everything seem okay.
• • •
The second I step out of the arena, I dig my phone from my pocket and dial Holt.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, how’d it go?”
“So well.” I sigh, sandwiching my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I fish his car keys from my purse. “The kids were super-sweet and attentive. I’d love to tell you about it over dinner, if you don’t have plans.”
This man was my own personal superhero today. The least I can do is feed him.
“Dinner sounds great.”
I can hear his smile through the phone, and I smile back, knowing I’ll get to see him in just a few minutes. “Perfect. I’ll order something for delivery. Chinese sound okay?”
We agree on two orders of kung pao chicken, fried rice, and egg rolls, and he waits on the line while I tap our order into an app.
“The site says it’ll be there in twenty. Meet you in the lobby?”
“Done and done,” he says. “See you soon.”
If I were driving my own car, I’d probably speed the whole way home with how eager I am to see him, but since I’ve already been in one fender bender today, I hug the right lane the whole way back to my condo.
When I pull up to the parking garage, I’m surprised to see that the garage door is already fixed and fully operational, and when I drive past my own car, the dent on the back bumper is less severe than I remember. Not saying that the car accident was a good thing, but between the minimal damage and the very sexy dinner date I’ve secured as a result of the ordeal, I feel as though things have balanced out nicely.
When I enter my building, Holt’s imposing figure makes him easy to spot right away. While the other residents filter in and out of the elevators, he stands in the very center of the lobby, a slight grin on his mouth and a plastic bag full of small white takeout boxes dangling from his fingers.
He greets me by pressing a quick kiss against my cheekbone. Instantly, my temperature shoots up several degrees. He’s never kissed me in public before, and even if it’s just on the cheek, I’m amazed by how special it makes me feel.
Maybe my instincts should have prompted me to scan the lobby for onlookers or, worse yet, a camera-happy blogger ready to report on any newsworthy move I might make. But none of that crosses my mind until we’re unpacking our dinner on my kitchen island, and by then, it’s too late anyway. Being with Holt makes all my worry subside. He’s magical that way.
“I can’t believe the garage door is already fixed,” I say as I press onto my tiptoes, grabbing two square white plates from my cabinet. This dinner isn’t the fanciest thank-you in the world, so the least I can do is serve it on real plates.
“I told you, I know a repairman,” Holt says. “He’s good.”
“If he got that whole project done in under two hours, he’s not just good. He’s superhuman. I really can’t thank you enough.”
“This is as good of a thank-you as a man could ever want.” Holt smiles, jutting a thumb toward the takeout boxes.
“Do you want to watch the game while we eat? Puck drop is in ten.”
“Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.”
I’m usually too much of a neat freak to eat such messy food anywhere other than the table, but nothing in the world sounds better than cozying up on the couch with Holt, dinner, and a game we’re predicted to win.
With full plates, we assume the same spots on the couch as the last time Holt was here, the night of the big team dinner. But unlike that night, there’s no awkwardness, no readjusting to each other. Instead, we sit close enough that my thigh presses against his, and he listens attentively as I recount my afternoon with the best and brightest young hockey players in Boston.
“I swear, some of these ten-year-olds can skate as well as our players,” I say with a laugh.
“You’ll be drafting those same kids in ten years,” he points out. “Just you wait.”
As I’m turning that thought over, Holt slips his fingers between mine. His palm is warm and rough with calluses, and my heart rate quickens as he runs his thumb along the back of my hand.
I told Gretchen (and myself) that all I wanted was some hot, sweaty fun. So, why are my emotions all over the freaking place right now? Because of the history Holt and I share? That deep, brief connection that ended so quickly?
I take a moment, trying to breathe deeply and calm down before I embarrass myself with a display of emotion that has no place in a casual relationship like this one.
Get it together, Eden. Maybe I’m just feeling grateful that he saved me earlier in my jam . . . that has to be it.
“I’m proud of you for bouncing back so quickly after your accident,” Holt says, unaware of my inner dialogue. “I’ll bet your speech made those kids’ whole year.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I say truthfully, blinking up at him with an appreciative smile. “And not just because you let me borrow your car. The things you said to me the other night about working as a team and just handling my own role? It really helped me.”
“Yeah?” His full lips tick upward. “I’m happy to help you with anything you need.”
Just the suggestion sends heat flooding through my system. “You sure?” I whisper, wetting my lower lip with a sweep of my tongue. “Because there’s something pretty important I need your help with right now.”
“Yeah? Anything for you.”
My free hand floats to the stubble on his cheek, taking him in—chiseled jaw, gray eyes, and velvety lips. “I need you to kiss me right now.”
“I think I can take care of that.” His head tilts, and his warm, eager lips meet mine in a slow, sweet kiss that prompts every hair on my arms to stand on end.
One gentle kiss becomes two, and when he touches his tongue against my lips, they part, welcoming him in. Soon, his big hands are in my hair, pulling me close to him as our tongues intertwine in an easy dance that only we know the steps to. When he breaks away, I lean in again, capturing his mouth with mine. Nothing could pull me away from him right now.
“Eden, honey. Knock-knock.”
Well, allow me to immediately take that back. There’s one thing—one person, rather—who could make me leap a full foot away from this man, and she just waltz
ed through the door.
“M—Mom?” I stutter, jumping to my feet and quickly finger-combing my hair. “What the h—heck are you doing here?”
Holt’s eyes widen as he silently mouths a question. Did you know she was coming?
I shake my head, then plaster on a smile as my mother’s heels click around the corner. Her brows shoot up and she presses a hand to her chest when she sees I’m not alone.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Didn’t the front desk notify you that I was coming up?”
“My phone is still in my purse,” I say, instantly regretting that choice. Unless I’m working, I don’t really text anyone other than Gretchen and Holt these days. I didn’t even think to grab it.
“That’s very concerning,” she murmurs through pursed lips. “Anyone could wander in here off the streets.” She quickly appraises Holt, then turns her thin-lipped frown back to me.
“I promise, I’ve never had a security issue,” I tell her, biting back the until now that I’d like to tack onto that statement. I love my mother, I really do, but now is not the time for a surprise visit.
“I heard you weren’t traveling with the team tonight and thought I’d swing by to say hello. I didn’t realize you already had company.”
Well, I guess we’re doing introductions now. Love that for me.
“This is Holt Rossi. He’s head of the security firm we hired on for the Titans this year.” I gesture to Holt and he shoves up from the couch, clearing his throat before extending a hand to her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wynn.”
She places her hand in his, confusion written all over her small features. “I go by Baker now.” And then the crease in her brow deepens. “I hadn’t heard about additional security.”
“Just an extra precaution for Eden,” Holt says gruffly, then shifts his gaze back to me. “I should get going. Glad we could talk through those security guidelines, ma’am.”
I offer him a sad smile. As grateful as I am that he’s sparing us any further awkwardness by playing it professional, a pang of guilt twinges in my chest that he feels like he has to lie about why he’s here. “Thanks for everything, Holt.”
“Have a great evening,” my mother says, her tone sweet and genuine. But before Holt can leave, she turns back to me with a sharp frown. “Eden, honey, I thought you took the weekend off. Why are you bringing work home with you? You need time off. Maybe you need a date.”
Little does she know that she just interrupted one.
19
* * *
HOLT
When my phone chimes with another text, I assume it’s Madden again. He and I have been going back and forth about this week’s schedule, in addition to him giving me a relentless ribbing over his perceived crush I have on Eden. Little does he know how true his words were, though I played it off well.
But when I check the screen, it’s not a text from Madden. It’s Eden. I made it home from her place a little while ago so she could visit with her mom. Her text is a welcome distraction from work.
I park my ass on the stool in the kitchen and read her note. I’m so sorry about my mom.
That’s okay, I write back.
Little bubbles bounce on my screen for a few seconds. I know she can be a bit much.
I type out my reply with a smirk on my lips. Maybe she was right. Maybe you do need a date.
Ha-ha, she writes. Then she adds a laughing-face emoji.
Alone in my kitchen, I chuckle and take another sip from the bottle of water sitting beside me. Another text comes through from Madden, but I ignore it. Then I dial Eden’s number, and she answers on the first ring.
“Hey.” She sounds slightly breathless, or maybe just surprised that I called instead of replying to her text. But I’m not really a texting kind of guy.
“I’m serious. About that date. Could I take you out sometime?”
She’s quiet for a second, and I wonder what she’s thinking. “We’ve never had one of those.”
“I know. I thought it might be time.”
My voice is steady, but inside, I feel less certain. And for a second, a flash of insecurity hits me and doubt creeps in.
Maybe she doesn’t want to go out with you. Maybe you’re better off being her dirty little secret. Maybe she doesn’t want to be seen with you in public.
But when she speaks again, I can tell she’s smiling. “I’m free tomorrow.”
I smile too. “Perfect. It’s a date. Would six work?”
Eden chuckles. “Yes. What did you have in mind?”
I run a hand through my hair, still grinning. God, this is fun. “It’s a surprise, but I promise it won’t involve hockey or shellfish.”
She laughs. “Okay, that sounds perfect.”
• • •
I spend the entire next day cleaning my apartment because it’s rare that I have visitors. Since I thought Eden might like something more low-key, I invited her over to my place tonight and told her I’d cook for her. A chill night in sounded like a good idea at the time, but now I’m second-guessing myself.
Surveying my work, I let out a sigh. It’s not as nice as Eden’s condo, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be self-conscious about it.
My apartment is a small one-bedroom in a good location, and the fact that the kitchen isn’t outfitted with sleek stainless steel or all the latest gadgets doesn’t bother me. I have what I need and not a thing more. Plus, I have a kick-ass balcony that I’ve decorated with cushions and white-string lights and warm flannel blankets, where I pictured us cuddled together under the stars as I cleaned today.
God, I sound like a sap, and I don’t even care.
My sheets have been washed, just in case things progress to the bedroom, and I even made sure to squeeze in some manscaping. So basically, I’m one thousand percent ready for this date tonight.
My phone rings, and for a second I think it might be Eden. Maybe something came up at the last minute. Maybe she needs to cancel. I sure as hell hope not.
But when I check the screen, it’s not Eden’s name I see. It’s my mom’s. My stomach sinks as I stab the ANSWER button with my thumb.
“Hello?” There’s irritation in my voice, but it’s nothing compared to the frustration I feel at the next words out of my mother’s mouth.
20
* * *
EDEN
I park outside Holt’s building at exactly six o’clock with a smile on my lips. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve been almost giddy with excitement all day.
First, I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready, even though he promised it was a very casual date at his place. After a lengthy shower, where I made sure to shave all the important parts, I blew out my hair and did my makeup with care.
Now I’m dressed in a pair of slim-fit dark jeans, and since the fall air is cool enough to warrant it, my favorite deep V-neck sweater in creamy oatmeal with what I’m hoping will be my secret weapon underneath—a push-up bra and matching panties in black satin. I can only imagine Holt’s expression when he discovers them.
With a deep breath, I head up the stairs to the apartment Holt indicated in his last text. I’m filled with anticipation. Maybe it’s because aside from Alex, I haven’t dated much. Or maybe I had such a surprisingly good time with Holt on the road, I’m eager for more time with the man I can’t stop thinking about.
I find his unit at the end of the hall and pause at his door to knock, my lips already twitching with the hint of a smile. After waiting about a minute with no answer, I press my ear to the door. It’s quiet inside, no voices or sounds of music, so I knock again.
As I wait, my smile starts to fade.
Still nothing.
I twist the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, peek my head inside. “Holt?” I call as I step through the doorway.
His place is compact, but clean and organized. It suits him. Nothing is out of place, and I can picture him here, rifling through the mail on the counter after work, or doing so
me push-ups in the center of the living room floor.
After a quick glance around the living room with its large gray couch and flatscreen TV, I spot him on the balcony outside, just beyond the glass doors at the end of the living room. He’s facing away from me, his hands gripping the railing and his head tipped down as though he’s studying his feet.
My good mood from moments ago is gone. Seeing him looking distressed like this brings a whole new set of emotions crashing through me—and a whole lot of confusion.
Suddenly Holt turns, and when he registers me here, standing in his living room, a look of uncertainty crosses his features. His posture is stiff, his shoulders set back as he stalks toward me. There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. An empty, haunted look. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I have no idea what. It’s disorienting.
I swallow past the nerves in my throat, wondering what’s happened. What’s brought about this change in him. But I can do nothing but wait, because Holt doesn’t seem in a hurry to fill me in.
I shouldn’t be here. That’s the first thought that flits through my brain.
My heart pounds out a heavy rhythm as he comes closer, stopping beside the sofa where I stand. He lets out a heavy sigh and fists his hands at his sides.
“Is everything okay?”
With a curt nod, he continues appraising me coolly, but he offers nothing else. A wealth of emotions are hidden in his gaze, but I couldn’t begin to tell you what he’s feeling. Mostly there’s a vacant look that makes my stomach tighten.
“Because I feel like something’s wrong,” I say.
He gives his head a cursory shake. “It’s fine.”
I don’t feel fine. I feel like I could cry, and I don’t even know why. If everything’s going to fall apart around me, I’d at least want to know the reason why. I deserve that much.
But he won’t even look at me, and a shiver creeps over my skin. I wrap my arms around myself, preparing for the worst. Holt stays silent, though, so I have no clue where his head is at.