Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I pop a brow. “Clearly, you do. I didn’t realize you had a hidden artistic side.”
She looks away, shoving another shirt in her bag. “Shocker that you’re not exactly perceptive.”
There’s a bite to her words.
I hate to admit that she might be right.
Holland’s always been a mystery to me, a combination of sharp edges and soft curves that never quite added up. She’s too much, too real in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
I settle in the chair and watch her. “Is it some big secret?”
Her hands still for a second but she doesn’t look up. “Not a secret at all. The people who matter in my life know about it.”
Ouch.
“Did you ever consider me one of them?” The question is out before I can stop it.
Her gaze is hard when it slices to mine. “After all this time, why does it even matter?” Before I can tell her that it doesn’t, she adds, “Let’s get something clear. We’re not friends. You’re blackmailing me because you think I’m out to ruin your life. At some point, you’ll realize it’s not me. And then won’t you feel like an asshole?”
Her words hit harder than I expect, and something that feels very much like regret unfurls inside me. I’m caught between wanting to pull her closer and wanting to protect myself from what she’s capable of.
“This could be over with before it even starts if you’d just come clean.” My voice is quieter than I intend. “Just admit you’ve been fucking with me, and I’ll let it all go. I won’t even press charges. I just need it to end.”
She lets out a humorless laugh before zipping up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. Sadness flashes in her eyes before it’s quickly masked. “I’m not going to admit to something I haven’t done.”
With that, she pushes past me into the hallway without another word. I follow, still trying to piece together what’s real and what’s just a façade.
When it comes to Holland, I’m not sure I’ll ever know.
As soon as the townhouse is locked up, she beelines to her vehicle, stubbornness and tension etched across her expression. “I’ll follow you back to your place.”
“Actually,” I say, holding her gaze, “you’ll ride with me.”
With a roll of her eyes, a puff of air bursts from her. “So now I can’t even drive my own car? What if I need it? How am I going to get to work?”
I glance at her death trap of a vehicle. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was held together with paperclips and bubblegum. “I’ll drive you.”
“Awesome. Now I have my own personal chauffeur. Things just keep getting better and better.”
A grin twitches around the corners of my lips. “Aren’t you lucky?”
Her glare hardens. “Luckiest girl in the world.”
I pop open the passenger door of my BMW and extend my arm. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”
With a snort, she slips past me before settling on the leather seat. “Chariot, my ass.”
Once she’s situated, I close the door and hustle around to the driver’s side.
Who would have ever thought Holland Tate would be sitting in my car and sleeping in my bed at night?
It all feels a little surreal.
And yet, I still can’t bring myself to regret the impulsive decision to bind her to me.
The drive to my place is made in silence as thick tension permeates the small space. Each unspoken word stretches uncomfortably between us as she stares out the window. Her expression might be unreadable, but I can feel the anger and frustration radiating off her in suffocating waves.
It’s strangely intoxicating.
The moment we pull up in front of my place, Holland bolts from the car before I have a chance to kill the engine. My attention stays riveted to her as I follow her up the stairs to the front porch.
She pauses outside the door, glancing at me with a dubious expression. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d be shacking up at the hockey house.”
And I’d fucking kill the guy she shacked up with.
The thought is so unexpected, it catches me off guard.
I bite back the sharp retort and reach around her, opening the door before muttering, “That makes two of us.”
She’s close enough for the rosemary and mint scent of her shampoo to slyly wrap around me. It’s so damn tempting to lean in and inhale a big breath of her.
But I don’t.
Are you fucking kidding?
Of course I don’t.
She’d probably junk punch me if I did. And then she’d kick me while I was curled up in the fetal position on the ground.
Her eyes narrow. “Did you just sniff me?”
Fuck.
I feign ignorance. “What? Of course not.”
I wasn’t kidding about the junk punching.
With a frown, she stalks inside the entryway before taking in her surroundings. Her body stiffens when she notices a couple of my younger teammates making themselves at home on our couch. There’s a girl or two cuddled up next to each of them. Their gazes stray to us, and I’m treated to a round of chin lifts.