Chapter Sixteen

Mark

I jolt awake to the sound of persistent banging on the door. My groggy brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. The noise continues, louder this time, and I grumble in frustration when Murray starts to bark.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” I mutter under my breath, already knowing who’s knocking on my door as I reluctantly pull myself out of bed. I shuffle to the door and fling it open to find Holly standing at my door with an arched brow.

“Were you sleeping?” she asks.

“What do you think?” I reply, my voice gruff as I try to rub the sleep from my eyes.

“It’s almost noon,” she says, her brows shooting up. “I would have imagined you to wake up with the sound of chickens.”

I give her a dry look. “I don’t have any chickens, and I had a long night last night,” I mumble, watching as she breezes past me, placing her purse on my couch before she crouches down to pet Murray. “I don’t know how I feel about you being so comfortable in my house.”

She lets out a small laugh as she rubs Murray’s head. “Please. Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” she teases .

I can’t even muster a response because… fuck me, she’s right. There’s something undeniably soothing about her presence. I rub my jaw, watching her kick off her shoes and settle cross-legged on my couch.

“So, what are we watching?” she asks, flopping down on the couch.

“We?” I ask, lifting a brow, still half-dazed.

“I’m here now,” she says with a shrug. “So, it’s we .”

“I was planning on sleeping in today.”

“Oh.” A frown coats her lips. “I should have asked first,” she says, standing up as she pulls her coat tighter around herself. “I’m sorry. I’ll just—”

“Don’t.” She freezes, eyes widened as she stares back at me, wondering what I want her to do. Fuck. I hated seeing that frown on her lips or her thinking I didn’t want her here. “You came all this way anyway,” I say, trying to act casual as I shrug. “You can stay.”

Her shoulders drop in relief as she throws her coat back onto the arm of the couch. “Good,” she says with a smile. “Because I really didn’t want to leave.”

She shuffles back against the cushions and kicks her shoes off. My jaw tightens looking over her. This fucking woman. Came into my life, took over everything, and now acts like she belongs here.

I sigh, dropping down on the couch beside her.

She’d be fucking right.

My body goes rigid for a moment, unsure how to react when she lies her head on my chest. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice rough with confusion .

She lifts her head, a small smirk tugging at her lips as her big eyes meet mine. “It’s called cuddling, Mark. Get used to it.”

“I hate it,” I mumble, but when she starts to lift her head, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, halting her. “I didn’t tell you to move.”

She smiles, snuggling in comfortably. “I’m so happy I met you,” she says, her voice a quiet hum, a sound so comforting I don’t know what I’ll do when I eventually never hear it again.

Her words catch me off guard, and I look down at her. I don’t know what the hell hit me the day I met this girl. Before that, my life was black and white, a dullness coating it, and now, she’s made everything bright and colorful. “Yeah,” I admit. “Me too, Holly.”

She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head, making me furrow my brows.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask her.

She lifts her head to meet my eyes and shrugs. “I thought you’d tell me that you regret talking to me when we first met,” she says.

I blink, a frown forming on my lips. “Why would I ever say that?”

She shrugs again. “Because then I wouldn’t be in your life, disturbing your sleep, or making you be my dating coach,” she says, her throat moving as she swallows.

God help me, but I actually like that she’s in my life.

A lot.

“Is that what I am?” I ask instead, trying to bury the thoughts deep inside my brain where they belong. “Your dating coach? ”

“Well, you’re my friend too,” she says with a smile.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “And my bartender,” she continues. “And my cookie taste tester.”

“That, I’m not complaining about,” I tell her, feeling my chest jump when she lets out a soft laugh. Our eyes lock and I feel my lips twitching, seeing her infectious smile.

“Shit,” she gasps, sitting up when her phone starts ringing before she reaches out to grab it and glances down at the screen with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She lifts her head. “Ryan texted.”

Oh. Right.

My shoulders feel tense at the reminder of watching Holly and Ryan on their date yesterday. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I was supposed to be behind the bar, working, like I always do. But I just… couldn’t. I had to see him for myself. I had to see them . And when I did… fuck, my stomach dropped. She looked so happy, and he looked perfect for her. And I felt like I had been kicked in the fucking nuts.

I rub my chin. “What did he say?”

“He wants to go out again,” she says, her voice flat, and her brows knitted together.

Of course he does. Just fucking look at her.

The muscle in my jaw ticks, tightening as I raise an eyebrow at her expression. “Do you like this guy?” I ask her.

She keeps hold of my eyes for a beat, the seconds stretching and then she lifts her shoulder. “I think so.”

I nod. Nod again. Keep fucking nodding like it’s going to erase those words from my mind. “And the date went well, yeah?” I ask, trying to maintain some composure but feeling nothing but the tightness building in my chest.

“I mean…” She blinks, her eyes meeting mine. “You were there,” she points out, making me remember the way she looked last night.

It was one thing seeing her the other day, but seeing her in her full outfit, hair freshly done, and makeup on in the dim lighting of the restaurant.

Fuck, she looked so beautiful.

“I only came to see if he didn’t check someone else out like the other assholes,” I tell her. “I left when I saw you two laughing.” I shrug, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I assumed it was going well.”

That’s a lie. I don’t lie to Holly. I like how honest she is, and I always try to be honest with her too, but I just lied straight to her face. The reason I rushed out of the restaurant was because I saw him reach out to hold her hand in his, and I didn’t fucking like the sight of it at all. Or the way my stomach sank to my ass at the thought of them together.

“Yeah,” she says with a slow nod. “I guess it did.”

I nod, trying to mask the hurt banging against my chest. “Then what’s the problem, Bambi?”

She sighs, tilting her head back. “He wants to go ice skating,” she says, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Okay…” I say, feeling a flicker of confusion as to why she’s freaking out about it if she likes this guy .

When she opens her eyes, they meet mine and she frowns, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to skate,” she admits, her voice tinged with distress.

My brows shoot up. “You’re serious?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise. “I know I call you Bambi, but…”

“I’m serious, Mark,” she says, rolling those adorable eyes. Wait. Hold the fuck up. Did I just say adorable? “Now is not the time for your jokes,” she says, frustrated. “What do I do? I would cancel, but…” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, shaking her head. “He seems like a good guy and is interested in me, and….” She exhales. “I think I like him, too.”

The cramping in my stomach intensifies at her admission, but my jaw ticks at the sight of her saddened expression. Those lips downturned, and her eyes dropped to the ground. Fuck, I hate seeing her like this.

Don’t do it.

Don’t fucking do it.

Just sit the fuck back and let her deal with it. Let her cancel the date, that way she won’t see the guy ever again.

Just stay the fuck out of it.

But I can’t stop myself when I sneak a glance at her again and see the frown on her face. With a sigh, I stand up and grab my coat from the hanger, picking up my keys on the console table.

“Come on,” I tell her, pulling my coat on.

“What?” she says, lifting her head in confusion. “Where?”

“We’re going ice skating.”