What the heck?
She squinted at her cell, as if that could somehow keep it from moving.
What was going on? She couldn’t already be tipsy, she hadn’t even finished the whole bottle.
Maybe she’d drunk it too fast?
The doorbell rang, and she jumped. Who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone and Scarlett used her key.
She pushed to her feet, only to waver.
Okay, the liquor had absolutely gone straight to her head.
Slowly, she moved to the door. When she opened it, her jaw dropped.
Holden.
She felt like she should be annoyed that he was there. But all she could feel was this fuzzy warmth in her belly. It had to be the alcohol.
Her lips stretched into a wide smile. “Hey. What areyoudoing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
Her gaze caught on those fingers. On the thickness of his knuckles. The veins in his hands. “You have sexy fingers.”
He frowned. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure. It’s nice thatsomeonewants to spend the evening with me.” See, she didn’t need Deb’s little gathering.
Holden stepped inside, watching her closely now. “Are you okay?”
“Depends on what you mean by okay. I almost fell over when I reached for my phone and I’m blaming the vodka seltzer.”
He inched closer. “How many did you drink?”
“Zero-point-seven-five of a bottle…but that’s an estimation.” She turned, only to immediately kick her foot into the wall. “Sweet baby carrots, that hurt!”
Holden’s reflexes were like lightning as he grabbed her arm. “Clara, what’s going on?”
“I think I drank it too fast.” She massaged her temple. “I need to lie down.”
The room began to spin again.
Without hesitation, Holden slipped an arm around her waist and behind her legs and lifted her up against him.
She gasped and touched his chest…his very sculpted chest. “Oh…this is nice.”
It was a two-second walk to the couch, but in that time, she managed to feel many muscular ridges.
“This is probably the best chest I’ve felt in my life,” she said, speaking her thoughts out loud. “Not that I’ve felt many chests. Most men’s chests don’t appeal to me, but yours is like a fine wine.”
He set her on the couch.
Her gaze zeroed in on the TV screen. “Want to watchNotting Hillwith me? I haven’t gotten to the, ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her’ part. It’s my favorite. Although, it might not beyourfavorite, if our past conversations are anything to go by.”
