Cole
“Istill don’t trust him,” I grunt as Horacio walks out the door. He’s assured us he’s eager and willing to become our double agent and report back within a couple of days, but I’m not feeling as good about it as Holly seems to be. For one thing, he’s a few curly fries short of a child-size serving. For another, the plan hinges on the Labelles believing him, and he’s not a convincing actor. His role is simple: he’s going to tell them that although he didn’t manage to get pictures of Jane, he’s been tailing me, and he saw me take a meeting with someone at the bank.
If it works, they’ll think I’m considering selling. Deacon will show up at my brewery again with another bullshit offer, and I can pump him for information. The Labelles may be more brazen in their efforts if they think they have me on the hook.
“You don’t have to completely trust him,” Holly says, resting her ass against the edge of her grandmother’s desk. “We just have to trust that he fears us more than he wants to please the Labelles.”
I shake my head. “I don’t like it. Even if he’s justifiably terrified of you.”
“And not you?”
I lift my shoulders into a lazy shrug. Sure, he’s worried about me beating him up, but that requires close physical proximity. Both of us have threatened his career, now and back at the school, but he seems to think Holly’s ability to find simple information about him online makes her either some master hacker or in the NSA. “Got a better idea?” she asks dryly.
“No.” Because even though this can go wrong in so many different ways, I can’t think of anything better. And yet…I don’t like that Holly set this in motion by herself. She conversed with him without me even being aware of it. What if he’d hurt her? A surge of protectiveness rises up in my chest. “You should have asked me first. You shouldn’t have been talking to that asshole. He’s potentially dangerous, Holly.”
She laughs. “You really think Horacio Duke the Second is dangerous?”
“He’s an idiot, so yeah, that makes him dangerous.”
“You were worried about me,” she teases, but there’s a breathlessness in her voice that catches my attention.
I take a step closer. Her hands are resting on the desk behind her, and her back is slightly arched, lifting her breasts. Her dark hair is loose, the mass of it swept over her right shoulder. On the other side, the sleek line of her neck is exposed, and my gaze follows it to the collar of her pale green button-down shirt. The color brings out her green eyes. She’s gorgeous. A surge of lust washes through me.
The whole reason I’ve only slept with out-of-towners for the last several years is to keep things from getting complicated, and there’s not a single thing about this woman or my feelings for her that is uncomplicated. But I can’t find the will to step back from her. Still, let no one claim I’m not stubborn. I lift my chin and say, “I was worried about you the way I’d be worried aboutanyonein a dangerous situation.”
Her eyes dance with amusement. “So you’re saying if Mikey was the one connecting with Horacio, you’d be just as worried.”
“Well…” Thoughts of Mikey sitting on the desk the way Holly is now gives me an unpleasant mental jolt. “Yeah,” I bark out, harsher than intended, mostly to get the image out of my head.
She laughs like she can see my mental picture of Mikey in this provocative pose. “You’re many things, Cole Garrison, but you never struck me as a liar.”
I don’t answer, because she’s not wrong, but I’m not ready to admit that she’s all I’ve thought about since I watched her drive away last night.
My arguments for sticking with out-of-towners are wearing thin. Maybe because I’ve only slept with two other women since Holly kissed me in that hallway at Salt and Bone a year and a half ago, and both encounters left me feeling hollow and unsettled.
I’ve been telling myself it’s not because of Holly, it’s just that Millie and I married so young, and while my friends were out partying and scoring notches on their bedposts in their teens and early twenties, I was in a committed relationship and working toward opening a business. I have no regrets about that—I was happy with Millie—but I’ve been telling myself that my habit of sleeping around was simply me sowing my wild oats, and the reason I’ve pretty much stopped this past year is because I outgrew it.
Staring at Holly now, it hits me that I’ve been lying to myself. Itisbecause of her.
Fuck.
“You think I’m incapable of taking care of myself?” she asks in a haughty tone. “You seriously think I can’t handle Horacio Duke on my own? That’s insulting.”
I know she can, but it still makes my heart compress with fear. “It’s not your problem to solve,” I say in a husky tone as I take a step closer.
Shit. Do I really want to do this? Do I want to try to start a relationship with Holly Mayberry? Because I know she’s not a safe bet. She’s never been involved with someone for more than a few weeks, and she’s unpredictable and wild. She’s too much like me, and the chances of her breaking me are very high.
She’s still holding my gaze, but her eyes have darkened with lust. “I like Jane,” she says, sounding slightly breathless. “I’m doing it for her.”
“What about me?” I ask as I come to a stop in front of her, using both hands to push her legs wider so I can stand between them.
Her eyes fly open in surprise, but she doesn’t resist and leans back even more to look up at me. “You’re okay, I guess.”
My mouth quirks up. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a ringing endorsement.” I rest my hands on her waist, my fingers lifting the edge of her shirt and stroking lightly across her bare skin.
She sucks in a breath, then lifts her eyebrows. “You trying to earn a higher score on the satisfaction meter?”
“And here I thought we were talking about my character.” I slide my hands up under her shirt, skimming her bare back.
