Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Trey

H olland was and still is the most stubborn woman I've ever known. When she digs her heels in on something, she doesn't budge. Once, when she was twelve and we were fishing down at the pond, she refused to quit until she caught a fish. It didn't matter she was using the wrong type of lure, she wouldn't give up. It was only when it turned dark and we couldn't see anymore that we finally convinced her to give it a rest for the night.

It's because I know her so well that I settle into the quiet on the ride to Louisville. It's not hard because where Holland is concerned, I've built up a well of patience to call upon. I know I'm starting from behind the eight ball, but one thing Holland must surely know… I'm as stubborn as she is.

By the time we reach Louisville, it's almost eight p.m. I hand the truck over to the valet and escort Holland inside. She only has her purse and she mutters as we approach the check-in desk, "I feel like an idiot since we don't have luggage. It's clear we're here to just—"

Her mouth snaps shut as the clerk smiles at us. "Good evening. Welcome to The Brown Hotel."

I make small talk with the woman as she checks us in and when she asks what we're doing in town, I can't help myself. "Just here to do a little fishing."

The smile she bestows is confused yet accommodating. "Well, enjoy your stay."

"We intend to," I say, taking Holland by the elbow and leading her to the elevator.

I'm shocked when, as soon as we enter our room and the door closes behind us, Holland turns and presses her body against me. Her palms to my face, she pulls me down for a stirring kiss to which my body instantly reacts. The woman has hardly said a handful of words since I picked her up, but she's now communicating by action.

Fine by me. In a frenzy of need and desire, we fumble with each other's clothes, hands grasping at fabric, nails scraping against skin. There's urgency in our movements, a raw hunger that demands to be sated. Our bodies collide with a force that borders on violent, seeking completion in the chaos of tangled limbs and heated acts.

We're naked, falling into bed and within the cyclone of lust, I'm where I need to be… deep inside Holland. The physicality of our union is rough, unapologetic in its intensity. Moans and gasps fill the room, punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Holland asks for more, and I give it, and then we're both exploding in a firestorm of pleasure that has her yanking my hair and me biting into her shoulder.

We lay entwined, breathless and spent, the air thick with sweat and sex. My heart still hammering, I revel in the way Holland sprawls across my chest, which is the first time we've actually cuddled since she's returned. The last two times we were quick to get dressed and move on.

"That was some good fishing," she says, her words raspy, but I hear the teasing in her voice. The tension is gone and she's relaxed in my arms.

Chuckling, I press my hand into her lower back, holding her tight to me. I want to poke at her to talk to me, but I tread carefully because I could be poking a bear. "Want to go down to the restaurant and eat or order room service?"

"Room service," she replies, all mellow with the hint of a smile in her voice. "I'm not leaving this bed until we have to go home."

Grinning, I squeeze her tight. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

"My mom is pressuring me to turn the business over to her," Holland says, and it's such an abrupt change of subject, not to mention a bold foray into conversation with a man she clearly doesn't like to converse with all that much, that I'm not sure what to say. Doesn't matter—she continues, "And I get that it's a bit of a slap to her that my dad left it to me, especially since my mom catered to him for their entire marriage and I had nothing but disdain for him, but I'm telling you, Trey, she can't run that business. She doesn't have any common sense, no attention for detail, she's horrible with math, doesn't have any drive and for the life of me, I can't figure out what would possess her to think she can do this. I've tried to tell her, in a gentle way, but today we had a pretty big fight and I just had to tell her she was incapable. She doesn't want to accept it and I don't know how to handle her. We've hardly ever disagreed on anything because she was always too apathetic and I never bothered to depend on her for anything, so there was never anything to really argue about. I'm almost tempted to just sign the damn thing over to her and let her sink or swim, but Trey… she's going to sink, and I can't in good conscience let that happen."

Holland sucks in a lungful of air and lets it out with a nervous laugh. "Sorry. That was quite the info dump."

"You hardly speak to me for a week and a half and now you say so many words, I don't know where to start."

I feel her rumbling laugh against my chest. "That felt good to let loose." She sounds completely put out as she grumbles an admission that has me smiling. "You were always a good sounding board."

I'm pleased that she still considers me someone she can talk to about matters that cause her uncertainty. She can vent all she wants that she no longer trusts me but the fact she's letting me see her turmoil has me hoping there's a softening of her hard shell.

"How much of this do you think stems from the betrayal your mom feels from your dad?"

"Because he left the shop to me?" she asks.

"Yeah. I mean… she did whatever he wanted. She was devoted to him, not you. You weren't devoted to him and yet, he rewarded you with the printshop."

Holland drums her fingertips on my stomach as she considers it. "He didn't do it to snub or hurt her, I'm sure of it. I think he just knew what I've figured out… she just can't do it. If anything, I bet he left it to me thinking I'd keep it going and support her with it."

"You don't owe her that," I say, a little harsher than intended.

Holland lifts her head, turns it my way. Her eyes are clear, focused and determined. "I know that. But no matter how little she did for me, I can't let her flounder. Luckily, he had a good life insurance policy and that went to her. The house is paid off and she gets that. She should be just fine, but what I haven't discussed with her is that I don't want a damn thing from him. So my choices are to sell it or give it over to her. I think it's best if I sell it and give her the proceeds. Then I can go back to Zurich without any regrets, knowing I did everything I could to help her."

I don't like the talk about Holland returning to Zurich, but I put it aside. "What do you need to do in order to sell it?"

"I talked to a broker today and I've got to get the financial records in order and then do a business plan summary to show the income potential. The broker will find a buyer."

I don't press her on a time frame as it's self-serving and she knows it. Instead, I ask, "What can I do to help?"

"Keep fishing with me," she says, giving me a sly grin.

"Gladly," I say, and she rests her head back on my chest. I move my hand to stroke her hair. "If you go back to Zurich, will you leave behind any other regrets?"

It's a bold question, forcing a personal answer. "You know I won't."

That doesn't deter me. "Want to know a regret I have?"

Holland sighs and lifts up off my body. I expect her to roll away to stop the conversation, but she presses her palm into the mattress to stare down at me. "I already know you regret the decision you made back then. You told me, you apologized and I forgave you."

"You didn't forgive me to the extent I need, otherwise you'd possibly be willing to give us another chance."

"What's the point?" she asks in exasperation. "I'm going back to Zurich. Your life is at Blackburn Farms."

"Maybe I'll go with you," I say, taking stock of my sincerity, and yeah… I'd follow Holland if she'd have me.

"Don't talk stupid," she chastises with a glare.

I grin at her. "You want to know a regret I have?"

She rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"I regret the lost time, because had I not made a very stupid choice back then, you and I would be married by now and we'd have children."

Holland's eyes sadden and she looks away. I knew that would hit deep because we talked about getting married after she finished college, and I knew she wanted three kids—two girls and a boy.

"Don't you think that maybe you and I were put on a path to reconnect?" I ask, wanting to press her while she's vulnerable. "It's serendipitous."

She tucks her hair behind her ear, eyes sliding to me. "You really believe that?"

I take her hand in mine, relieved she doesn't pull away. "I don't believe fate killed your dad, lured you here and gave me an opportunity to pounce. But I do believe in the possibility of second chances and I believe people deserve them."

I brace for the inevitable denial and condemnations that she can't trust me, but instead she says, "Your sister gave Gabe a second chance."

My lip curls in disgust and she laughs, pushing on my chest playfully. "You're such a hypocrite, Trey Marshall Blackburn. You want me to give you a second chance but you begrudge your sister that."

"I'm well aware of the double standard," I mutter.

"You should be happy for your sister. And you should forgive his past transgressions."

"Aha," I exclaim, pointing a finger at her. "You're the hypocrite now."

"No, I'm not. I've forgiven you," she points out. "I just don't trust you."

"You think Kat trusted Gabe at first? She had to build back up to it, but she at least kept an open mind. Maybe you should try to do the same."

Holland blinks at me, teeth digging into her bottom lip. I take the hesitation to press her. "I'm not the same man you knew eleven years ago, Holland. I'd do things differently. I'd make the right choice."

"Trey," she murmurs, her hand squeezing mine. "I hear you. But I'm a different person now too."

"One I'm trying my damnedest to get to know again."

She chuckles. "How about we agree not to try too hard at anything? Let's just spend time together with no expectations. And what will be, will be."

"That's fair," I say, gladly accepting where we are right now. She's not actively pushing me away on an emotional level. "But as long as you agree that this isn't just sex. It's not a way to get your rocks off and then leave me without a backward glance so I know how you felt."

Holland swallows hard but she nods. "I can agree to that."

"And we'll have fun while you're here?"

She nods again.

"And you'll let me help you figure out what to do with the shop and your mom?"

I pause, because this is where Holland should pull away. "Your advice has always been stellar in the past. Sooner I can figure this out, the sooner I can go back."

I shift up in the bed and pull Holland back down onto me. "Do you really love your job and Zurich so much?"

She doesn't respond and I have to prod her. "Holland?"

"It's a good job. A beautiful city."

"That sounds like a rehearsed line. Is that what you would tell your mom every time she'd call and ask you to come home?"

"It really is a beautiful city," she grumbles.

I chuckle and tip her face up to look at me. "I believe you. But is that job your passion? Are you eager to get back to it? Is it what you want to do the rest of your life?"

Holland stares at me a long moment before saying, "It's a job. That's all it is."

"You don't love it?"

She shakes her head. "Not sure it would be my forever career. It was my chance to move far away."

The guilt over that admission stings, because I'm the one who made her leave. "What do you want to do then?"

Holland shrugs. "I have no clue."

"Maybe it's time for you to really consider what would make you happy. Not just existing in a job you like, but following a passion."

"And you'd just love it if you were the passion I decided to follow," she says.

"I know I still love you," I say simply. And they're the truest words I've ever said.

Holland jerks. "Don't say things like that."

"It's the truth. I never stopped, Holland. I know I killed whatever you felt for me, but my feelings never changed. I was just stuck with an empty hole while you moved on."

"I didn't move on," she whispers, her eyes forlorn. "But I did harden."

I brush back a lock of her hair, my eyes roaming her face. "Maybe not so much. You look pretty soft now."

Holland looks away, as if embarrassed for me to see something she doesn't want to reveal. When her gaze comes back to me, she admits, "I've been hard a long time, Trey. But I don't necessarily like being this way."

"Then don't."

Her eyes lock onto me, probing for understanding. She leans over, moving her hand to the opposite side of my body, and I grip onto her waist. I expect her mouth to descend but instead she reaches all the way across me, her warm body stretching over mine and brushing in all the right places. She nabs the room service menu from the nightstand and flops back over, opening it. "I'm starved," she says dismissively. "Let's figure out what we're going to eat."