Page 96 of Daddies' Holiday Toy

“Holly. What the hell? That’s… that’s a stupid amount of money. Where the hell did you get that? Seriously, how did you get that?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Her eyes narrow, suspicion making her face morph into something almost comical. “Don’t tell me you started sellingdrugs.”

Oh my god.

I stuff the money order into my bag, my fingers fumbling over the zipper.

This poor teller probably thinks we’re nuts. “No. Knock it off. Obviously not.”

Either that or she’s going to call the cops on his for suspicious activity.

I swing my bag over my shoulder and make a break for the door, but Mallory is right behind me, not about to let this go.

“Then where the hell you got the money, Holly.”

“Business loan,” I blurt, not even slowing down as I push the glass door open.

“Bullshit,” she fires back instantly, catching it before it closes and stepping out after me. “You aresucha bad liar. Like, painfully bad. I can literally hear your voice go up when you do it.”

See, this is the problem with having a close friend. They always call you out at the least productive moments.

I keep walking toward my car, half-wishing the sidewalk would just crack open and swallow me.

Hands, mouths, dark gazes, and the sound of my name breaking over graveled voices flashes in my mind.

And yeah there’sno wayI’m explainingthatto Mallory. Especially in a bank parking lot.

The second we get in the car though, it’s game on for her.

“Spill. Now.” She snaps her seatbelt into place with a sharp click. “Because unless you robbed a casino, there’s no way you just have that much money lying around. Out with it, and don’t say it’s a business loan again, because I know you didn’t apply for one or else you would’ve had me help you with the application.”

I groan, tipping my head back against the headrest, eyes flicking upward toward the pale winter sky like maybe divine intervention will swoop in and save me from this conversation.

“Okay. Fine. But you have to swear you won’t freak out.”

She lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you’re already setting conditions? That’s never good.”

I fire up my car, the low hum filling the silence between us as I pull out of the parking lot.

My hands grip the wheel tighter than necessary, and I focus way too hard on merging into traffic like I’m suddenly auditioning for a defensive driving commercial.

“Swear,” I press.

“Sure,” she agrees, leaning back and crossing her arms. “But I’m reserving the right to freak out internally. And maybe externally if this is something truly insane.”

Oh, it is,I almost say.

I sigh and head us in the direction of Mr. Larkin’s office.

The reality of actually saying it out loud has me wanting to veer off the road and crash my car, just to give me the excuse not to talk about it.

Mallory’s always been a stubborn person though. Even worse than me.

Once she gets her claws hooked into something, she never lets it go.

She shifts in her seat so she’s half-turned toward me, back pressed against the door, studying me.