“Did that babysitter make the grilled cheese on Friday too? Because that’s my preference, but I’m not a fan of soggy bread.”
Shaking my head, I fight a stupid grin that threatens to spread across my face. Something inside me is bubbling up and filling my entire being, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s happiness.
I’m actually happy that Holly is here in my apartment, giving me shit, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the amazing sex we had less than a half hour ago.
Of course, I’m not a stupid man. If I can have sex with her again before she leaves, I will.
I spend the next ten minutes heating the soup on the stove and making grilled cheese sandwiches on a skillet while Holly works on the computer. Other than Holly asking me for the wifi password, we both work in silent companionship. It feels right in a way that scares the shit out of me, so I turn on some music about halfway through.
I bring out a bowl of soup and a plate with the sandwich and set it at the opposite end of the table.
“Am I supposed to get my own?” she asks with a hint of attitude.
“No,” I say grumpily. “Contrary to what you seem to think, my mother taught me manners. I always serve my guests first.”
“But I’m sitting over here.”
“You can take a break to eat, Holly,” I say in exasperation. “I don’t expect you to eat while you work.” Then, because I’m worried she’ll get up and leave if I sound too nice, I add, “Besides, you might get grease on the keyboard.”
“Good point.” Getting up, she circles around to the other seat, and if my eyes follow her ass, well, I’m not one to ignore a good view.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m gonna grab a beer. Do you want anything to drink?”
“I’ll take a beer.”
I bring over the bottles, then grab my own food and set the bowl and plate directly across from hers.
Holly dips her spoon into the bowl. “Isn’t it going to be inconvenient to have the computer on your dining room table? We can find a small desk that would fit in the corner of your living room.” She points to an empty space next to the sofa.
“The only people who ever eat in here other than me and Jane are Nanny Faye, who is only here when I’m not, and my brother Logan. And when he’s over, we’re usually eating on the sofa while watching a game.” I pick up half my sandwich. “This is the best place for it.”
“Not much of an entertainer, huh?”
“I entertain every damn day down there.” I thumb toward the door that leads to the brewery. “This is where I escape. My mother always told me you need to keep something for yourself.”
She studies me for a moment, her gaze drilling deep, as if she’s seeing the real me.
A chill runs down the back of my neck. Do I want Holly seeing the real me? Will it give her more fodder to use against me when she leaves and returns to needling me?
“I already told you this in passing, but I was sorry to hear about your parents’ car accident,” she says softly. “They always seemed like such great parents.”
“They were,” I admit, a lump unexpectedly forming in my throat. It’s been over ten years since it happened. I can usually talk about them without getting emotional, but being around Holly makes me feel things deeper than I usually do. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one.
“You’re lucky,” she says, taking a sip of her soup, then picking up her sandwich. “You won the parent lottery.”
I tilt my head to study her. “Rumor has it your mom left town with a new husband, and your dad…” I pause, wondering if it’s a good idea to bring up the incident that occurred before my first kiss with Holly a year ago. But I’m already on dangerous ground. I might as well keep walking. “I know he’s been absent most of your life.”
Her eyes start to shutter, but then she drops her gaze to her bowl. “The rumor mill got it right. My mother left before I graduated from high school. My grandmother pretty much raised us before either one of them left, but she’s a bitch, so my childhood wasn’t full of cookies and milk and whatever else grandmothers are known for.” She makes a face that’s somewhere between a grin and a grimace. “In fact, she was always quick to tell me I ate too many cookies.”
I bristle, surprised by the protectiveness that ripples through me. “That’s fucking stupid. You’re perfect.”
She looks startled but pleased. “Where’s a tape recorder when you need one.”
“And here I thought you were into tech.”
She laughs, her breasts shaking with it, and it’s hard to look away.
“I’m sorry your grandmother sucks,” I say softly. “No kid should have to grow up like that. I’m trying my damnedest to make up for Jane not having a mom.”
