Chapter Nineteen

Mark

M y ears perk up at the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs, and I don’t even need to check the peephole to know it’s Holly. I don’t know what the fact that I’ve memorized her footsteps says about me.

I shoo Murray off my lap with a gentle tap and lift off the couch with a grunt before making my way to my door. When I open it, I see Holly standing with her arm in the air, fist curled up, ready to knock.

“Beat you to it,” I say, opening the door wider so she can come inside.

“How did you know it was me?” she asks, her brows knitting in confusion as she walks inside.

My brow raises. “Did you forget you texted me?”

“It could have been someone else,” she replies, pulling her big, puffy coat off before throwing it over the arm of the couch. “There are a lot of murderers in New York, Mark. You need to be careful,” she says, my eyes dipping to the ridiculous green and red sweater she has on. I feel my lips tugging at the sight.

“You worried about me, Bambi?” I tease, watching her cheeks flush with a soft pink .

She ignores me, turning around to greet Murray. “Hey, boy,” she says, her voice soft and kind and everything that she is. “I got you something.”

She reaches into her purse, pulling out a red Christmas hat before she carefully positions it on top of his head. My brows dip—It looks fucking ridiculous, barely fits him—but Holly’s smiling so wide, I don’t want to say anything that will take that smile away. Besides, Murray’s practically vibrating with excitement, his tail wagging as she kisses the top of his head.

Same, buddy.

I feel the same exact way whenever I see her.

I don’t know what kind of magic she did, but Holly went from being someone who interrupted my peace and quiet with endless questions and a joy that suffocated me, to someone I look forward to seeing. I crave her company, her questions, her texts, calls, practice dates. Whatever it is, I can’t wait to see her.

Jesus. I’m so fucked.

I run my hand over my beard, watching as she giggles with Murray, and my brows furrow, remembering what happened between us a few days ago.

The way she looked at me and traced my lips with her soft fingers… I was two seconds away from cupping her face in my hands and kissing the hell out of those soft, puffy, red lips. But I stopped myself when I remembered we were on a practice date for her actual date. The guy she’s seeing. The guy she likes .

I’ve been out of my mind, wrestling with these feelings inside of me. I’m too damn old for her. I’m not right for her. I don’t deserve someone as amazing as her. She’s so bright and colorful and brings joy with her everywhere she goes. And I’m… nowhere near what she’s looking for.

Holly lets out a loud gasp that breaks me out of a million and one thoughts of her roaming in my head. “You lit a fire,” she says, her mouth dropping in awe as her eyes lock on the cracking flames in the fireplace.

I arch a brow. “It’s cold.”

“That’s Christmassy,” she counters with a teasing smile.

“It’s winter,” I say with an eye roll before dropping on the couch beside her. “Stop trying to make me join your cult.”

“Your daddy’s a liar, isn’t he, baby?” she asks Murray, giving him a scratch behind his ears, the Christmas hat wobbling to one side.

“He’s not a baby. He’s a dog,” I say, though my heart melts a little at the sight of them together.

“And he’s also a big grump,” she adds, lifting her head to flash me a smirk.

I give up on trying to win this argument and let out a sigh. “What do you want from me, Bambi?” I ask her. We hadn’t talked since our ice skating practice date, and I didn’t know whether she was trying to avoid me or not. But now that she’s here, it eases my mind a little.

“The pleasure of your company,” she says, flashing me a sweet smile as she cuddles up next to me, the heat of her body radiating through mine.

“First person to say that,” I grunt back.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she says, lifting her head to look up at me. “What about your ex-girlfriend?” she asks, making my brows furrow. “She must have loved your company.”

Hate the thought of my ex being in Holly’s head. She’s not even in mine. Hasn’t been for a long time. I raise an eyebrow, hating that I have to be reminded of everything that went down between us. “If she did, then she wouldn’t have cheated on me, sweetheart.”

Her brows raise a little, shocked by the fact before they knit together. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “Not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she says, tugging her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “I was just curious—I always get curious—and I was wondering about her and you, and well…” She sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Bambi,” I say, my voice coated in amusement at the sound of her rambling. “It was a long time ago, I’m fine, everything’s fine. You don’t need to be sorry.”

She nods a few times, stealing a quick glance at Murray before she turns to face me again. “Is that why you haven’t dated anyone since her?”

The question catches me off guard, and my brows lift on their own accord. “I don’t know,” I admit, shaking my head slightly. “I was hurt after I found her in our bed with someone else, but…” I breathe hard, keeping my eyes on Holly. “I guess after that, it made me stop believing that the kind of love Mia and Charles had, existed.”

Her eyes widen, worry tugging at her features. “You seriously think that? ”

I rub my jaw. “I don’t know,” I say honestly, feeling conflicted with the whole thing. “Sasha was…” I halt for a moment. “She was highly driven, and I think the life we had wasn’t what she wanted.” I swallow hard. “ I wasn’t what she wanted. So, she found it someplace else.” I shake my head. “I was a fucking idiot for thinking that if you loved someone, it would be enough. That they would love you back, that they’d stay with you, that they wouldn’t break your heart.” I meet Holly’s eyes and see the worry tinged in them. “While you might find that someday, Holly. I know it’s just not for me.”

“Never?” she asks, her voice a little quiet.

I glance at her, feeling my heart bang against my chest at the sight of her. My instinct is to say never, but I can’t help but remember the way I almost kissed her just a few days ago. I haven’t felt the desire to talk to a woman, let alone kiss one in five fucking years. And then she comes into my life and…

“Never,” I say instead because I need to cut these notions out of my brain. Holly isn’t an option. She never was. She’ll find someone she likes, whether that’s Ryan or someone else, and she’ll have a beautiful life with him, and I’ll forget about her.

Probably.

“Oh,” she says, her brows knitting together. She doesn’t say anything after that, and I note a pensive look in her eyes, making me confused.

“You’re quiet,” I say. “It’s not like you.”

She lifts her head, frowning slightly. “I can be quiet,” she says, which makes me breathe out a scoff.

“You can? I’ve never seen it,” I tease her .

“I can,” she says, lifting her chin. “I can sit here and read my book and you won’t hear a peep from me.” Reaching into her bag, she takes her book out and opens it up, scanning the pages.

I arch a brow when her eyes don’t lift from the pages. Is she serious? I wait a few seconds, but when she makes no move to talk, I sigh, hating the quiet whenever she’s here and even when she’s not. I like hearing her talk. I’ve grown accustomed to it. “I give up,” I say, throwing my arms up. “I don’t like when you’re quiet.”

She looks up at me, her gorgeous brown eyes swirling with a mix of caramel and uncertainty. “You don’t?”

“No,” I admit. “I like hearing you speak.”

Her lips quirk at the corners and she folds the corner of the page before placing the book back in her bag. “I knew you did.”

My eyes widen, not bothering to correct her because… “You fold the page?”

She glances at me. “Of course. How else will I know what page I was last on?”

I blink, wondering if she’s joking. Doesn’t look like it. “I don’t know, maybe by using a bookmark?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have one. This is just easier.”

Christ. She’s a menace.

She looks around my apartment and a soft sigh leaves her lips making my brows dip. “You’re still quiet,” I point out.

“Just thinking,” she murmurs, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.

“About? ”

Our eyes meet and I get lost in them for a moment, my stomach feeling weird. “Sasha was an idiot,” she blurs out, shaking her head slightly. “You’re an amazing guy, Mark, and Sasha was a fucking idiot for letting you go.” My brows shoot up, partly because Holly rarely ever swears and partly because I’ve never heard her say anything like that before, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. “I was at home and all I wanted to do was to come see you,” she admits. “I really missed you. And I can’t imagine how someone would prefer being anywhere but with you.”

She lets out a heavy breath after saying all that, which is good, considering the breath has been sucked straight out of my lungs. Jesus. This fucking woman. Why the hell did she come into my life? And why am I dreading the day she finally leaves?

“Missed you too, Bambi,” I admit, my voice rough.

Her eyes light up, widening a little. “You did?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Who else is going to pester me about Christmas any chance they get?”

Her eyebrows furrow, a frown coating her lips. “That’s not all I do,” she says, trying to defend herself.

“No,” I agree with a nod. “You’re right. You talk my ear off about anything and everything,” I tease.

Her frown deepens and the sight doesn’t sit well with me at fucking all. “Well if I annoy you that much—” She grabs her purse and her coat, and my brows dip.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“Leaving,” she replies, leaning down to kiss Murray’s head. “I don’t want to pester you anymore, so—”

“Christ, Bambi. I was fucking kidding,” I say, feeling my pulse go haywire as I watch her shuffle off the couch, ready to stand, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m tugging on her wrist, pulling her into me until she lands straight on my lap.

She lets out a loud gasp, her widened eyes meeting mine as we both realize her ass is on my lap, an inch away from my cock.

Christ . Don’t fucking think about that right now, asshole.

My hands, resting on her hips, squeeze slightly and another gasp is pulled from her throat, making me clear my throat. “You don’t pester me,” I say, my voice low as I keep my eyes on hers, our faces less than three inches apart.

“No?” she replies, just as quietly.

I shake my head, wanting to grip her hips in my hand again, but blaring alarms ring in my head and I’m reminded she isn’t mine. She never will be. She’s Ryan’s. At least for now. I quickly lift her up and place her on the couch beside me, running a hand through my hair as I remember the warmth of her body pressed against mine.

“Tell me about the date,” I say, trying to remind myself why having notions about this girl is a really fucking bad idea.

“Date?”

I turn to face her, seeing a confused, hazy look in her eyes and I blink, my eyes drifting to her parted lips, wondering what she’d taste like. I don’t have a doubt in my body that she’d taste sweet. Warm caramel, freshly baked cookies, vanilla, candy. Everything about this woman screams sweet .

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat again. “With Ryan?”

She blinks, snapping out of it, and nods. “Right. Ryan.”

“So? How did it go?” I ask. Don’t know why I do. Don’t want to know about their date.

She blinks again, tilting her head slightly. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Of course,” I lie through my fucking teeth, feeling my fists curl up beside me. “I’m your dating coach, right?”

“Right,” she replies with a few nods, glancing down at her lap before she takes a deep breath. “It went well, I guess,” she says. “He was nice and funny, and your ice skating lessons helped a lot,” she says with a shake of her head, a laugh bubbling out of her. “But I still ended up falling on my ass.” She lifts her head, meeting my eyes. “He didn’t seem to mind, though. He actually thought it was pretty funny.”

I rub my jaw, feeling the stubble of my beard pricking my fingers. “Sounds… great,” I say, trying to mask the disappointment coursing through my body. I force a casual tone, though my mind is racing with a million and one thoughts. Did he hold her hand like I did? Did they laugh? What did they talk about? Did he kiss her?

A flash of the image crosses my mind, and I clench my jaw so hard that I can feel my teeth grinding.

“It was,” she says with a nod before she meets my eyes. “And then at the end we uh… we kissed. ”

Fuck.

My heart sinks. Jesus. Get it the fuck together. You knew what the deal was when you met her.

“And?” I ask, trying to steady my voice.

“It was… nice,” she says, with a lift of her shoulder.

“Nice?” I repeat, arching a brow at her uninterested demeanor. “Sweetheart, a kiss shouldn’t be described as nice .”

“No?” she says, knitting her brows in confusion.

My jaw tightens. “Hell fucking no.” I keep my eyes on hers. “It should be passionate. He should have cupped your face and looked into your eyes, showing you how much he wanted you.” Her lips part slightly, and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m telling her everything I’d do if I ever got the chance that asshole had. “He should have leaned in, his lips an inch away from yours, your breaths mingling before he finally kissed you.” Fuck. My body grows hot with the image of doing just that to her. “He should have kissed you with everything in him. It should have been hot, he should have made you moan, he should have left you feeling like you couldn’t breathe .”

Her gulp is audible as pink tints her cheeks. “Oh,” she says, the flush of color coating her skin. “I mean, it was pretty quick,” she admits. “It was more like a peck.”

Fucking idiot.

How he had her in his arms, wanting him, and he didn’t kiss the living daylights out of her I will never know.

“He hasn’t texted me since, so maybe he isn’t interested anymore,” she says.

“Not fucking possible.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Fuck. What the hell am I going to say now? Not possible because you can’t fathom the idea of not wanting her? Because you’ve been picturing yourself with her?

“I saw you guys on your date,” I remind her, swallowing down the bullshit. “I could tell that he was into you.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, Bambi,” I reply, nodding. “He’d be an idiot not to be. I’m sure he’ll call again if that’s what you want.” My eyes shift to hers. “That is what you want, right?”

She’s quiet for a minute, blinking slowly before she nods. “Yeah.” Her voice wavers and I’m stricken with confusion. I can’t quite read her expression. She kissed the guy, wanted him to text her, and said she likes him, yet I can’t help but wonder why she doesn’t sound convincing.

She glances around my apartment. “I can’t believe it’s December already,” she says. “I miss searching for the perfect tree and decorating it.”

“You don’t decorate your tree at home?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Olivia takes care of that. Even Henry isn’t allowed to mess with her tree.” She roams my apartment again, letting out a loud sigh. “I can’t help but notice your living room is so empty,” she says, turning to face me and fluttering her lashes.

“No fucking way,” I say, my eyes hardening .

“What?” she says, shrugging as she keeps fluttering those lashes at me. “I was just stating a fact,” she says, feigning ignorance.

I give her a dry look. “I know what you’re doing,” I reply, catching her sly smile. “And the answer is no.”

She chuckles lightly, her shoulders dropping when she realizes I’ve caught on. “Please?” she begs, interlocking her fingers together and pressing her hands to her chest.

“I’m not putting a fucking Christmas tree in my house,” I say firmly, trying to avoid her eyes.

“But it will make this place look so pretty,” she argues. “You won’t even have to do anything. I’ll take care of everything.”

I meet her eyes, see the pleading look on her face, and shake my head, though my chest does a little blip at the sight. “Not fucking happening.”

She drops her hands, and her shoulders drop alongside them. “Fine.”

I feel my brows tug together at the frown on her face, tugging at my chest. Christ. What is it about this woman that seeing her frown makes my chest hurt? I told her no, and she isn’t pushing. She isn’t even arguing with me.

But I can’t help it.

I know I’m going to regret saying this, but…

I sigh. “So when are we getting this tree?”