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HOLT

I don’t chase after women.

They come to me.

They flock. In droves.

So, why am I driving to this children’s store to see her again?

Because it’s been less than twenty-four hours, and I can’t get her out of my mind. I badgered Raylee for all the information she had. Which wasn’t much. She’s been going to the store since it opened about four years ago, but she said that Merit doesn’t really talk about herself. She did notice that she used to wear a huge diamond on her ring finger, but she said that discreetly disappeared a while ago.

I used my newfound obsession with this stranger as an excuse to break up with Bunny. Not that we really needed a breakup; last night was only our third date. It’s not like I saw a future for the two of us. Hell, I didn’t even really like her. I was just lonely.

I am lonely.

I turn thirty-one in a few months, and I’m more than ready to settle down. Start a life, make a family.

Shit, if Ella and Crutch can make it work, then there’s hope for any of us.

It’s the last day of July, and the sweltering, midday Alabama sun beats down, covering everything in an oppressive, smothering heat. Sweat rolls down my back in the fifteen seconds it takes for me to walk from the parking lot into the store. Kyra’s standing at the register, checking someone out. Her head pops up, and she acknowledges my presence with a quick smile and wave. And maybe even a look of surprise on her face. Standing in the corner, I scan each inch of the interior, searching for Merit.

The store is basically one big rectangle with the front door set nearly flush with the left wall. When you walk in, there’s a couple of sales tables and racks. Then you have the register, and past that is a bookshelf filled with knick-knacks. That’s where I bought Laura’s bookmark. She loves to read and immediately fawned all over it. The entire back wall is covered with shoes. Planted high on the wall above the shoes is a big-screen TV. It looks like she’s playing another old movie. The right wall and half of the front wall are dotted with clothing racks and shelving. There’s one small display window on the right wall, where it meets back up with the front door. The middle of the store is lined with chairs, but it’s mostly open around the chairs.

I don’t see her.

Immediate disappointment floods over me.

Maybe she’s in the back.

At that precise moment, I hear her. I hear her laugh. It’s the very same laugh she did yesterday when watching the funny part of the movie. The same laugh that I dreamt about last night when my hand was wrapped around me, and I was trying to relieve the crushing pressure of constantly thinking about her.

The sound came from behind a shelf, over in the corner. I take a step in that direction but pause when I hear other voices. She must be helping a customer.

“Everything okay? Was something wrong with Anna’s shoes?”

I turn to Kyra’s voice and watch as her customer walks out the door.

“Hey.” Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I walk over to the counter. “No, all is good. She loved them and the shirt.”

She checks an old receipt and tosses it in the trash. “Perfect. Well, what can I help you with? You need to buy something else?”

I’ll buy every damn thing in the store if it means I can spend more time with Merit.

“Uhhh…not really,” I answer truthfully.

She opens her mouth and then closes it. Then opens it again. “Then, why are you here?”

Not exactly sure what to say, I nod my head in the direction of Merit’s hushed voice. I still can’t see her. She must be sitting on the floor.

Kyra’s eyes grow wide and she grins from ear to ear. “Ahhh, I see.” She nods, bending over the counter, drawing me closer to her. “She’s beautiful, huh?”

Fucking gorgeous. “Is she involved with anyone? Husband, boyfriend?”

“Nope. No husband. No boyfriend.”

Relief courses through me, filling my lungs with fresh oxygen. “Well, is she seeing anyone? Dating?”

Kyra snorts. “Merit? That would be a hard no.”

“She doesn’t date?”

She shakes her head.

I chew my lip in thought. “You mean she’s not currently dating anyone? Or she never dates?”

“She never dates.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Never?”

Kyra leans closer, exaggerating every single letter of the word. “Never.”

I push back, letting that sink in. “Why not?”

She whacks me on the arm with an ink pen. “I’m not telling you that! She’s my best friend.” Kyra shrugs. “Plus, she’s my boss. I need the paycheck,” she jokes.

Despite her tongue-in-cheek answer, I can see she really cares about Merit.

About that time, three bodies stand up from behind the shelf. Merit is standing with her back to me, but I watch as a woman and her son meander around to another clothing rack. Kyra waves me on, wishing me good luck. By the time I make it to Merit, she’s walking off in the direction of the back room. I know I shouldn’t follow her, especially not after what happened yesterday, but I can’t help myself. She’s wearing an oversized green T-shirt and short gray gym shorts. Her hips sway back and forth with each step she takes.

And of all things, she’s barefoot.

Standing in the doorway, I spend several seconds debating what to do. Giving in to temptation, I round the corner, stalking into the storage room like I’m the one who owns it. Not her.

Her back is still to me, and she’s standing in front of one of those big steamers that irons clothes. I hear the gurgle of the water and watch as steam rises from the handle. She’s hanging a boy’s wrinkled dress shirt.

I guess she wraps presents and irons clothes for her customers.

“Hey.”

Hey ? I used to give fucking press conferences and the best I can come up with is ‘Hey’?

She jumps, sucking a hiss of surprise through her teeth. When she spins around, I feel like I can finally breathe. Like I’ve been holding my breath since the moment she left my sight yesterday.

But that is short lived.

Her beautiful face is marred. And it pisses me off.

I cross the distance between us. My reflexes are super quick, so she doesn’t even have time to react. No time to decide she doesn’t want me to touch her, doesn’t want me to invade her personal space. Gently grabbing her chin, I tilt her head up, giving myself a better look. She’s tall for a woman, but still a good seven or eight inches shorter than me.

Too bad my reflexes weren’t quick enough to save her from damage yesterday.

Underneath her right eye, her beautiful skin is swollen and colored purple and blue. “You have a black eye,” I say, stating the obvious. “Anna’s shoebox did this?”

She doesn’t answer.

She just stares at me. I take the time to study her, memorizing every small detail. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. It was down yesterday, and I noticed it falls midway between her shoulders and her breasts. It’s thick and looks like it would feel like velvet. It’s a dark brown, but some of her strands look red and some look black. It reminds me of the redwood trees in California. Her eyes alone make my dick jump in my pants. They’re the most unusual color of hazel I’ve ever seen. They’re swirled with waves of brown, green, blue, and even yellow.

My eyes fall lower to the curve of her neck. I can see her heartbeat as it thunders in the artery underneath her soft skin. The collar of the green T-shirt hangs off her shoulder, confirming she’s wearing a blue sports bra. It calls my attention to the line of her collarbone. It’s summertime, and next to the strap of her sports bra, I see a thin, white tan line from a bathing suit.

Holy hell.

Even though I don’t want to, I take a small step back. I don’t need to scare her off even more by rubbing my massive erection all over her.

I am still a stranger.

I watch in awe as her pupils dilate. The reflex feels sensual and forbidden.

Fuck me. That’s sexy.

Suddenly, and without warning, she gasps for air and steps even farther away from me. My hand falls to my side.

I didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath.

“What are you doing here?” Her whisper is caught in her throat.

I ignore her question and repeat again, “You have a black eye. Are you okay?”

She furrows her brow and shakes her head. “That’s why you’re here? Who told you I had a black eye?”

She’s so freakin’ funny.

“No one told me you had a black eye. I just saw it. Just now.”

“Then, why are you here?” Her eyes grow wide in horror. “Oh no, the shoes didn’t fit? They’re supposed to fit the same as the other styles from that company. I’m so sorry. She must’ve been devastated.”

I take a step closer to her. “No, the shoes fit great. She loved them and the shirt.” I cock my hands on my hips. “And the surprise flowered notebook and glitter ink pen. She swore she was gonna save it for the new school year, but she was already writing in it before the party ended.”

Her distress levels immediately drop, and her shoulders sag in relief. “Oh, good. I’m glad.” Her eyes dart from side to side. I can see she doesn’t want to ask the next question, but she does anyway. “And the bookmark?”

Intuition tells me she doesn’t want to carry on a long conversation with me, but she can’t ignore her curiosity.

Is she curious about everything? Or is she just curious about me? And if she’s curious about me, why doesn’t she want to have a conversation with me?

“The bookmark was a hit too. It was for Laura.”

“And Laura is…?” Her face burns bright red and her throat makes a loud swallowing sound.

Yep. She definitely can’t ignore her curiosity.

“Technically, Laura is the niece to my cousin-in-law, Crutch. He’s married to my cousin, Ella. But Laura spends a lot of time with them, which means she spends a lot of time with me. It’s just easier for me to call her my niece than to explain the whole situation to someone. And she calls me her uncle.”

She nods, clamping her lips together to keep her mouth closed shut.

I can’t help it. My eyes wander down her bare legs, absorbing and committing every curve to memory, and finally, landing on her hot pink toenail polish.

She clears her throat, snatching my eyes back up to her face. “If the presents were a hit, why did you come back?”

“To see you.” Don’t they always say honesty is the best policy?

She looks down at her feet. After a split second, she lifts her chin in the air and stares directly into my eyes. Granting me that fake smile she gave me yesterday, she folds her hands neatly in front of her. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have a lot of work to do.” She tosses her head back to the hanging shirt, trying to give me evidence of her busy day. “If you’d like to browse the merchandise out in the showroom, I’ll be happy to assist you when I’m done with my current clients. However, I must insist that you leave the storage room.” She lowers her voice an octave, intent on conveying her seriousness. “Company policy prohibits you from being back here. It’s for your own safety, sir.”

There she is calling me ‘ sir’ again. Perhaps such language would be nice in the bedroom. Well, let’s be truthful, if the word were tumbling from her lips while I buried my head between her legs, it’d be fucking stupendous. But here? The way she’s saying the word…yeah, it’s not so great. Diplomatically choosing when and where to fight the battle of her formality, I simply agree. “Of course. I’ll just be out front waiting.” Giving her a little wink, I walk back out into the main part of the store.

I’m watching the old movie on the big-screen TV when she comes out and calls over to the mom and little boy still looking at clothes. He looks to be about nine or ten. When he catches my eye, I politely smile. The second his face lights up, I know that he knows who I am.

He immediately tugs on his mom’s shirt. “Mom! Mom!” Forcing her to bend down, he whispers in her ear. He points in my direction, and when I wave at him, his eyes grow wide and he starts bouncing on his toes. It takes a lot of effort on my part not to laugh—not to explode with pure happiness. I love seeing excited kids. It’s the best part of my job and brings me so much joy.

Joy I used to find on the field.

Clearing his throat and manning up, he walks over to me. “Hi, Coach. Is it all right if I take a picture with you?”

“Absolutely. Does your mom have a camera?” I watch as his mom waves her phone in our direction. I squat down and wrap my arm around his shoulders. We smile, following his mom’s prompt. “How about a funny one?” I offer. I make the classic muscle pose with my arms and hold back a snicker when he immediately follows suit, trying to make his little noodle-arms bulge. Before I stand up, I ruffle his hair. Little kid hair is the best. “So, do you play?”

“No, sir. I’m not allowed to. I have really bad asthma. But the doctor says I may grow out of it.”

I nod. “I hope you do.” I reach in my pocket and hand him a bright copper penny.

He stares at it like I just gave him the key to the city. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, Jason,” his mom waves him over. “We need to head home to get ready for the pictures.”

He rolls his eyes, explaining to me. “We have family pictures today. I had to get a new shirt.” He skips away before turning around for one last wave. “Bye!”

Merit mumbles to the mom, “Kyra can check you out. Thanks so much.”

When they’re out of earshot, Merit turns to me. She looks completely dumbfounded. And completely cute.

“What was that all about? What are you a coach of?”

“I’m a high school football coach.”

She sighs, not really understanding how that makes me a star. “Okaaayyy.”

I rub my fingers across my lips and drag them down my chin, giving myself time to study her. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

She pouts, growing frustrated. “You’re Anna’s uncle. Raylee’s brother.”

“Yes, I am. But I also used to play football.”

“Like in high school?”

“Yeah. And in college. And… in the NFL.”

“The NFL?”

I nod.

She cocks her head to the side. Her ponytail bobs, and her shirt falls farther down her shoulder. “Like the NFL that’s on television?”

Laughing, I say, “Yeah. That’s the only NFL I’m aware of.”

She narrows her eyes. She thinks I’m making fun of her. I would never in a million years do that. It’s just… her innocence and naivety are a commodity for me. A welcome luxury.

She shifts to fold her hands in front of her, but instead drops them to her side. Her fingertips tap against her thighs. And cue the fake smile. “That’s a wonderful accomplishment. Congratulations. Did you have a chance to look around? Is there anything I can help you with?” She waves her hand around the store. “What do you need today?”

You.

“Why do you do that?” I ask her.

“Do what?”

“Why do you switch midstream and act like you’re having a conversation with a UN ambassador or a member of British royalty?”

She freezes. I don’t know if anyone has ever called her out on that before.

She nervously straightens the collar of her T-shirt. Much to my chagrin, she hides her sports bra, but it doesn’t stop me from imagining what’s underneath. Her breasts look large and round and perfect.

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”

I take a step toward her. I’m not sure why I do it, but I kick off my flip flops, matching myself to her bare feet. “Why do you switch your tone of voice and your mannerisms? Why act so formal?”

“I’m just trying to be professional, sir.” She chuckles, trying to point out the obvious. “We’re strangers.”

I take another step. “Well, let’s solve that problem. Go out with me tonight.”

Her jaw falls open. “Excuse me?”

I take another step. She’s close. I can smell her. She smells like raspberries. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

Her hands curl into fists, and her beautiful face contorts in anger. “How dare you? How dare you ask me on a date when you have a girlfriend sitting at home waiting on you.” Technically, it’s a question, but she hurls it like a factual accusation.

“A girlfriend? You mean Bunny?” I shake my head. “She’s not my girlfriend. Never was. Last night was only our third date, and I told her that I didn’t wanna see her anymore.”

She narrows her eyes, not sure whether or not she should believe me. “Are you lying?”

“No. I don’t lie to people I care about. Ever.”

She scoffs. Cynicism travels through the room like a heavy fog. “Everyone lies.”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

We’re both quiet for a moment as I give her time to think. She’s choosing to selectively ignore my comment that I care about her.

I take another step. I have to make it a half-step, or I’d be embracing her in a hug. “So, what do you say? Date? Tonight?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t date.”

“And just why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“There has to be a reason,” I urge.

My fingertips still burn from holding her chin earlier. I wanna touch her so badly I have to stuff my hands in my pockets just to play nice.

“I’m divorced,” she says matter-of-factly.

I shrug. “So?”

Confusion etches across her face. “So, that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, why should it?”

She opens her mouth to enlighten me with her great response. When she can’t formulate one, she fumes. Her lips pucker, and the tip of her nose pinks.

I try a different tactic. “Let me ask you this—do you have a lot of work to do today?”

“I’m a small business owner. I always have a lot to do.”

“Well, I’m gonna plant myself right here,” I point to the chair on my left, “all day long and bug the ever-living-hell out of you until you agree to go out with me.”

A giggle catches me off guard. For the first time, I notice that Kyra has joined our conversation. She’s sitting in a chair right behind me, listening to every word.

Merit notices too. She frowns at her friend. “Don’t you have something to do over at the register?”

“No. When I’m over there, I can’t hear what y’all are saying over here.”

She starts to argue with Kyra, but I wrap my hands around her arms instead, drawing her attention to me.

So much for keeping my hands in my pockets.

Her skin immediately breaks out in goose bumps. The air between us explodes with tension and electricity. “Say yes,” I plead.

She looks down. Under heavy eyelids, her gaze follows the muscles of my arm. Her whisper is weak. “I don’t date.”

“I think what you meant to say is I don’t date just anyone . But you can date me.”

“I have to work. The store doesn’t even close until six-thirty.”

Kyra pipes up. “It’s fine. I can handle it by myself. It’s all good.”

Slowly, she glances up. When she looks me in the eyes, her soul crushes my heart. It withers into dust and blows away. Someone has hurt her, that’s for damn sure, and they hurt her bad. I only pray she gives me a chance.

Because that’s all I need.

One small chance.

I slowly edge my right foot along the carpet, grazing the side of her sexy, little foot with mine. The action is so minor—so innocent—but it shoots a current of high-voltage need and desire and possessiveness through every molecule in my body.

What is happening to me?

I have never, ever felt like this before.

And honestly, I worried I never would. But here it is.

And when the innocuous touch creates an audible gasp in the back of her throat, I realize I wanna feel like this forever.

My voice is lower than I intend for it to be; it’s dark and desperate. “One small chance, Merit. That’s all you have to give me. I won’t take anything more from you.”

She blinks, her hazel eyes glistening with sparks of brown and gold. The war she’s fighting is plainly etched across her face. She wants to say no; she’s begging herself to say no. But somewhere—deep, deep down inside of her—hope is blossoming. A flower that was dying has just been given water. And just like me, she wants that feeling to last. “Okay, Holt. One small chance.”

Yes. She said yes.

She said yes to my dishonesty.

I can’t believe I just lied. I just broke my own rule. I lied to someone I care about. I lied when I said I wouldn’t take anything more from her.

Because, the thing is, I already know I want to take everything.