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Chapter forty-two

Rebecca

I’m brushing my hair after my shower when Holt appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. I feel a million times better after standing under the hot water for a few minutes and letting it wash away everything that’s happened over the past few days.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The huge grin on his face makes my insides melt.

Is it possible to fall even more in love with someone from one look?

“Hey, yourself.” I smile at him through the mirror. “What’s up?”

When we got back to my apartment, I hopped in the shower and left Holt relaxing on the couch.

“Hunter texted and wondered if we wanted to come over for an impromptu team dinner. I know that wasn’t part of our plans, but . . .”

“Sounds good to me. What should I wear?” I glance down at the black leggings and oversized Storm shirt I threw on. Perfect for hanging out at the park and a casual dinner with my boyfriend and his daughter, but not necessarily perfect for a team dinner.

“What you have on is fine.”

“I’m almost done getting ready.”

After sectioning my hair off, I start braiding it. I try to avoid using heat on my hair if I can, and since it’s in the mid-seventies outside, I can probably get away with going out with it damp. Plus, it’ll create really nice waves later tonight or tomorrow when I take the braid out .

“No rush.”

He continues to watch me from his spot in the doorway, and when I’ve finished, he steps closer to me and wraps his arms around me from behind.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I lean against his chest, staring up at him, loving how it feels to be in his arms. “I think so. I wasn’t yesterday, but I think I’m okay since we have a plan in place now to handle the situation.”

“Good.” He kisses my hair. “Are you done in here?”

“Yeah.” I go to step away from him, but he tightens his hold on me.

I laugh, turning in his arms so I can face him.

He smirks at me, picking me up and walking into the living room.

“Put me down. I can walk.”

“Behave,” he growls, sitting on the couch, me still in his arms.

I roll my eyes but lean back against him, relaxing into his hold.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“What the fuck?” Holt mutters.

I jump to my feet.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

“Going to see who it is.”

“They’re not knocking on your door.”

“I know. But they’re knocking on your old door.”

As the words sink in, a female voice shouts. “I know you’re in there, Holt.” The banging continues.

“No. No way,” He mutters, tiptoeing toward the front door and peering through the peephole.