Chapter Fourteen

Mark

H olly is deceptively strong. At 5’5” with a petite frame, you’d never guess it, but the moment I arrive at the location she sent me, I’m yanked inside by this girl with an iron grip.

“Come on,” she pants, tugging me along. “This is an emergency.”

“Jesus,” I grunt, nearly tripping as she drags me through the door that slams shut behind us. “Don’t rip my arm off.”

She whirls around, her cheeks tinged with pink, and abruptly drops her hand. “Sorry,” she says, looking flustered. “I’m just a little nervous. I don’t have any time to prepare, and I want this to go well.”

“Bambi,” I narrow my eyes at her. “You told me the date is next week.”

“Exactly,” she says, throwing her hands up. “No time at all.”

I shake my head, a scoff escaping me, and she freezes, her wide eyes locking onto mine.

“What?” I ask, confused by the way she’s staring at me as if I’ve suddenly grown two heads .

Her head tilts slightly, and she blinks. “Did you just… laugh?”

“What?” I frown. “No.”

“I think you did.”

“You heard wrong.”

“I didn’t,” she insists, a grin spreading across her face. “I definitely heard you laugh all sputtery and weird.”

Sputtery and weird? Seriously, where the hell did this girl come from? I shove my hands into my pockets, my jaw tight. “I didn’t laugh. I merely scoffed.”

“Aha!” she shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “A scoff is a type of laugh.”

“It’s not,” I mutter, but doubt creeps in. Is it ?

“It is,” she affirms with a smirk. “You just laughed.”

Jesus . I let out a long sigh. “I did no such thing. I simply exhaled.”

Her shoulders slump, and her expression softens as she shakes her head. “One day, Mark,” she murmurs. “One day I’m going to make you laugh.”

“I doubt it, Bambi,” I say, though I can’t help but feel the corners of my lips twitch whenever she says something completely outrageous.

Finally, I glance around the room she dragged me into, only now taking in my surroundings. “Is this where you live?”

“No,” she replies, hopping onto the arm of the couch and swinging her legs playfully. “I broke in earlier today,” she deadpans, before a sly smile forms on her face. “This is Olivia and Henry’s place. I’m just staying here with them until I can afford to move out. ”

Her smile fades slightly, and before I can ask what’s on her mind, she hops off the couch and starts walking away.

“Let’s go,” she calls over her shoulder, not bothering to look back.

I curse under my breath. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Reluctantly, I follow her into her bedroom, where she gestures toward her bed, covered in a bunch of small pillows. “Sit.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you expect me to bark too?”

She chuckles, turning around to flip through a million hangers.

“Jesus, Bambi,” I mutter, my eyes widening at the sight as I drop down onto the edge of her bed. “How many clothes do you have?”

“Not a lot,” she says while rifling through endless options. “Ooh, I love this one.” She pulls out a long black fabric and holds it against her body, studying herself in the mirror. She spins around, nearly whipping me with the dress, a smirk on her lips. “What do you think of this?”

I rub my jaw, unsure what I’m looking at. “Nice?”

Her brows knit together. “Nice?” she echoes, clearly unimpressed. “What kind of compliment is that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about fashion, Bambi. To me, it just looks like a big sack.”

She bites her lip, contemplating my words. “Maybe it’s better if I try it on,” she says, pulling her sweatshirt over her head.

“What the hell?” I gawk, quickly averting my eyes .

Fuck.

My fist clenches as I wrestle with the surge of emotions I’d rather not acknowledge. I shouldn’t be ogling her. I hate myself for even thinking it, but… Holly is gorgeous. It’s hard not to notice how beautiful she is—long brown hair, caramel eyes, peachy skin, and a slender frame that would fit perfectly in my hands. And way too fucking young for you, asshole , I try to remind myself.

I blame McLanahan for putting the idea in my mind. I hate to admit it, but the old guy is right. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to a woman like I do her and an even longer time since I’ve been with a woman.

“Don’t worry,” she says with an amused tone. “I’m wearing a tank underneath.” I glance over, confirming she’s right. Except the tank is thin and white, and I can clearly see the outline of her nipples pressed against the fabric.

Jesus.

I scrub a hand down my face, trying to regain some composure.

When I lift my head, I see Holly’s pink lips tipped up in a smirk. “Don’t worry. I don’t strip when I’m not working at the club.”

My eyes widen in shock.

“Kidding,” she says, her own expression mirroring mine. “Jeez, you’d think I told you I kill people for a living.”

I let out a heavy breath. “Honestly, Bambi. That wouldn’t even surprise me at this point.”

She laughs, shaking her head, and pulls the dress over her head, shedding her sweats once the dress is on. The dress fits her perfectly, hugging her slender frame in all the right places. The black fabric drapes down to just below her knees, with ruffled edges and a white trim that makes her hair and skin glow.

My jaw tightens. She looks so beautiful. I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone as beautiful as her, even in her baggy sweaters and big, thick scarves. But this...

“So?” she asks, doing a little twirl, the fabric of the dress swirling around her legs. “What do you think?”

I rub my jaw, trying to clear the lump in my throat. She looks stunning, but the words get stuck somewhere between my chest and my mouth. “It’s…” I clear my throat. “That’s… good,” I finally manage, though it sounds hollow.

Her face falls, a frown tugging at her lips. “Oh. This isn’t the one, then.”

Damn it. Why couldn’t I have just told her the truth? Told her how the sight of her in that dress nearly knocked the breath out of me, told her she looked beautiful—no, more than beautiful. But instead, I tried to play it cool and unintentionally insulted her.

“What about this?” she asks, reaching into her closet and pulling out a top and a mini leather skirt that looks like it would barely cover her ass.

I will fucking die if she puts that on.

“Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, even though all I want is to end this torture and take the coldest shower of my life. “That one looks good. ”

“Really?” Her eyebrows arch in surprise, and she gives me a curious look. “Huh.”

“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling like I’ve missed something.

“Nothing,” she replies with a smirk, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “It’s just a little… risky, that’s all.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You picked it out.”

“And you chose it,” she counters, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. “You said the other one was hideous.”

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I definitely didn’t say that.”

“It’s fine, Mark,” she says, smoothing her hands down the dress still hugging her body, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that’s making my head spin. “It’s just not your type.” She pauses, her expression turning thoughtful. “But then again, I guess I’m not either,” she adds with a laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

My brows furrow at her words, something about them not sitting right.

“What is your type?” she asks suddenly, catching me off guard.

“In clothes?” I ask, trying to deflect, though I know that’s not what she means.

“In women.”

I shrug. “I don’t think I have one.”

“Oh, come on,” she presses, sitting down on the bed beside me, her knee brushing against mine. “Everyone has a type.”

“I don’t,” I insist .

She studies me for a moment, her eyes searching my face as if she’s trying to read between the lines. “What was your ex like?” she asks, the question carrying more weight than it should. I turn to her with a dry look, my expression closing off at the mention of her. Holly seems to sense she’s touched a nerve, and she lets out a small sigh. “Fine. I won’t pry,” she says. After a beat, she tilts her head, a playful glint returning to her eyes. “You want to know mine?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“My type is kind,” she says, ignoring my response as a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Wow.” I shake my head, smirking at her. “The bar is in hell.”

She nudges my shoulder playfully, letting out a laugh that’s so sweet it almost makes me forget what we’re talking about. “I’m serious,” she says, her laughter fading. Her eyes lose some of their usual sparkle as she looks down at her hands. “I’ve met so many assholes before. All I want is someone to be kind to me. Gentle. Patient.” She turns her head to meet my gaze, her expression open and vulnerable in a way I’m not used to seeing. “I want them to understand me, even though I know I’m a lot.”

“Understatement,” I mutter, trying to lighten the mood, but she just breathes out a small laugh, her eyes drifting away as she gets lost in thought.

“I want him to look at me and have his breath taken away,” she says softly, almost like she’s admitting a secret she’s held onto for too long.

“You want to kill the guy?” I joke .

She laughs, the sound light as she meets my eyes. “Yes,” she confirms with a grin. “I want him to be socked in the chest at the sight of me.” She shrugs slightly, her expression softening. “It might be too much to ask for, right? I mean, I know I’m not a supermodel or anything special. But that’s what I want.”

Hearing her talk about herself like that makes something in me twist. Kinda hated hearing her say that.

Her eyes flick up to mine, filled with uncertainty. “Do you think it’s too much to want?”

The look in her eyes kills me. I want to tell her that the odds of someone looking at her and falling head over heels might be impossible, and that life isn’t a fairy tale where everything just clicks into place. But who the fuck am I to tell her she can’t have what she wants? Who am I to crush that hope?

“No,” I say, my voice firm. “It’s not too much.” I take a breath, meeting her gaze. “There’s going to be some guy someday who won’t know what hit him when he meets you.”

Her pink lips curve into a smile, and she looks so genuinely happy that it makes something warm settle in my chest. I like that I can do this for her, even if it’s just with a few words.

“Do you think Ryan will like me?” she asks, her eyes bright with hope.

I rub my jaw, the thought of Ryan making that warmth fade. Don’t know why I hate hearing his name on her lips so much. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Her eyes widen slightly, shocked by admission, and my jaw tenses. The silence lingers between us until she tears her away, her fingers tracing the lines of the dress. “I hope I find it soon,” she says, her smile fading slightly. “Henry looks at Olivia like that, even when they argue.” Her voice drops a little. “My dad looked at my mom that way.”

“Yeah?”

She nods slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor as if searching for something she’s lost. “They were so in love. I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t even mind seeing them kiss in front of me,” she says, her lips lifting slightly as her voice cracks.

I see the tears well up in her eyes, her chest rising and falling unevenly, and I can tell she’s fighting to keep it together.

Fuck.

I reach out and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The contact seems to break something inside her, and Holly collapses into tears. Her sobs are raw, each one pulling at my chest and twisting my heart.

I just hold her hand, providing whatever comfort I can as she lets it all out. “I’m sorry,” she says between sniffles, her voice trembling as she tries to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “I haven’t cried in a while.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I say softly as I keep holding her hand. “Cry all you need.” She lifts her head, her glassy eyes meeting mine. “I’m right here,” I reassure her. “I won’t judge you.”

Tears continue to fall from her face, mingling with her laughter as she shakes her head, trying to compose herself. “You really are a softie, aren’t you?” she says .

“No,” I reply, trying to sound firm, though I can’t help but feel relief at the sound of her laugh.

A faint smile tugs at her lips as she shrugs. “Okay.”

I narrow my eyes at her, trying to maintain some semblance of seriousness. “I’m not.”

“Sure,” she replies, her tone light and teasing as she shrugs once more. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m…” I groan, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know what? I give up. Can I go now?”

Her laugh eases something inside me, and she nods. “Yeah, you can go. Thank you for coming over and helping me choose an outfit.”

I tip my chin. “You’re welcome, Bambi.”

She flashes me another smile, and I linger for a moment longer, feeling like there’s so much more I want to say but not knowing how. So, instead, I nod once more and finally turn to leave.

My hand reaches out to grab the doorknob, but something stops me, and I pivot back around, catching her staring at her reflection in the mirror.

“Holly.”

She looks up, her attention shifting from her own reflection to me. “Hmm?”

“Wear the dress.”