Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes.”

  She moves one of her legs across mine, locking her heel around my ankle.

  “Then yes,” she says.

  I kiss her head again.

  I hold her in my arms and imagine the conversation I’ll have with Wade. But instead of getting up and giving him a call, I fall into a deep, blissful sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Blaire

  Holt needs a ceiling fan.

  The air feels stagnant inside the bedroom. He cracked a window sometime during the night but closed it before he left for work this morning.

  Watching him prepare for a day in the office was a treat.

  If I thought watching him undress was a sight to behold, I didn’t anticipate how sexy it would be to watch him dress. The way his legs and ass fill out a pair of pants is on display when he’s not wearing anything else. I love the next layer—a shirt unbuttoned, hanging open. And watching him put on a tie is basically foreplay.

  Goodbye kisses are now my favorite thing.

  Except for the one I’ll be getting in the next day or two. That one is going to suck.

  “What am I going to do?” I ask Holt’s bedroom.

  It doesn’t answer.

  I pick up my phone and scroll through social media, hoping something will pop up and take my mind off Holt. Not surprisingly, nothing can hold a candle to him.

  I’m in trouble. I know it. I just don’t know what to do about it.

  My contacts list opens with the press of a finger. I hover over Sienna’s name.

  “I shouldn’t do this,” I tell myself as I contemplate doing it anyway. “Ugh.”

  My head falls back against the pillows as I war with what to do.

  The first step in this ridiculous process is admitting outright that I like Holt. Check.

  The next step is figuring out if I can, and if I should, pursue it. Not check.

  I groan, holding my phone in front of my face. I don’t want to ask for help with this. It’s stupid. Women are supposed to know how to do these things and, besides, I’m certain that not sharing my business with others is the way to go.

  But still …

  I want to talk to Sienna. I’m partially embarrassed by this little fact and fight the urge to hide beneath the covers. Regardless, the idea of hearing her take on what’s happening with Holt and me and hearing her opinion seems helpful.

  And maybe even fun.

  “Who am I these days?”

  I give in and scroll to her name in my text app.

  I need your help.

  It takes a whole three seconds for my phone to ring. When I answer, I’m laughing.

  “Were you just sitting around waiting on my call?” I ask.

  “Would it be weird to say yes?”

  “It would absolutely be weird.”

  She laughs too. “Then no. I wasn’t. I was sitting in Crank watching Walker fix a tractor through the window and hoping that a friend who’s sleeping with a super-hot millionaire would call me for advice. Better?”

  “Not really.”

  “Figures. So, what’s up?”

  I chew on my nail. Because if I’m completely reinventing myself on this trip, why not add being a nail-biter to it?

  “Sienna …” I take a deep, shaky breath. “I like Holt.”

  “I know.”

  I scramble to a more upright position in the bed. “No, I mean, I really think I like him. I think I’m in trouble.”

  “You aren’t in trouble. You’re in love.”

  “What? I am not.”

  I slow blink at her loose use of the l-word.

  The only man I’ve ever told I loved was Jack, and I’m not sure I ever really loved him. I think we were both struggling to make it in college, and we leaned on each other. It became a co-dependent relationship. I relied on him for my identity and for approval, not for love.

  Certainly not for love.

  “Blaire, calm down,” Sienna says gently. “I can feel you spiraling from here.”

  “I am not.”

  She laughs. “You’ve said that now twice.”

  “I said I liked him. Not loved him.”

  “Okay. Pardon me. I shouldn’t have tossed that weapon out there like that.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I was kidding,” she snorts. “It’s not a weapon. It’s a positive thing.”

  I roll my eyes and go back to the nail-biting again.

  This isn’t helpful. I just needed to know what to do about leaving here and potentially never seeing him again.

  But do I tell him that? Or do I just let things go and see what happens?

  What’s a girl to do in these cases?

  “You like him,” Sienna says. “This is a good start. Now, what do you need help with?”

  I drop my hand. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “Oh, Blaire …”

  I sigh. “I know I sound like a child, but I’m really confused.”

  “You don’t sound like a child. You just sound like a woman who hasn’t been here before. And, you know what? I’m glad you called me.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes! Of course. This is what friends do. This is such good progress.”

  “Before you know it, we’ll be shopping together on the weekends,” I say, my tone full of sarcasm.

  “Really? That would be amazing.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “Oh.”

  I sigh again—louder this time. “Maybe I should just forget this.”

  “You absolutely should not forget this.” A chair squeaks in the background. “So, what changed? What made you know that you want to try something with Holt?”

  I consider her question. How do I know?

  How do I put how I feel into words?

  Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s the fact that I have feelings for Holt that’s the answer to her question.

  A part of me has opened up since I got to Savannah. There’s a layer to me that I never explored. Maybe I was too scared to open up to someone after Jack. It could be that I didn’t want to access the vulnerability it takes to connect with another human while eating pizza at two in the morning. And I’ve gotten away with it.

  Until now.

  Holt challenges me. He makes me think about who I am and how I want to be. He pushes me and asks questions, and I like this version of myself better than the Blaire I was when I ran into him at the airport.

  Being with him doesn’t feel weak. Or dangerous. I don’t feel like I’m carrying a shield around all day to fend off the enemy.

  I can breathe. But how do I say that to Sienna?

  I don’t know.

  I don’t even know what all of this means. I’m just not ready to go back to Chicago and think of this whole thing in the past tense.

  “We talk like friends and kiss like lovers,” I say wistfully. “It’s usually one or the other.”

  “I understand.”

  “I can see myself differently around him. I see my strengths but also my weaknesses without feeling judged. I’m a better version of me.” I smile to myself. “He walked into my life as if he belonged here. Imagining him not being here hurts.”

  Sienna sucks in a breath. “Blaire …”

  “Does that sound ridiculous?”

  “No, friend. It doesn’t. Not at all.”

  I tug the blankets back over me and nestle down in them. If I lay in Holt’s bed and imagine him coming home, to me, everything feels right.

  But it’s trickery. And I know it.

  “You need to tell him,” Sienna coaxes.

  It sounds so easy.

  My heart constricts as I think about doing that—telling Holt that I want to explore something more with him.

  “My life is in Chicago,” I remind her. “I have a career there. His world is here.”

  “So?”

  “So, isn’t it practically impossible even if he agrees?”

  “Noth
ing is impossible when it comes to lov—things like this.”

  I grin at her slip-up. “I love your romanticism, but I’m still pragmatic. It’s not that easy.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

  What if I try …

  He could say he’s thinking the same thing and we could attempt to make a long-distance relationship work.

  Or he could say it’s not in the cards for him, and he thinks it’s a disaster in the making.

  The second option sends a chill ripping down my spine.

  “What are you thinking?” Sienna asks.

  “Just that I’m not sure what he’ll say. You know, he could say he’s not interested in trying something like this with me, and then what happens?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think happens?”

  I mull it over.

  We’re still operating on an extended one-night stand. But it doesn’t feel like that anymore.

  Not with us holding hands. And kisses to the top of my head. With me sleeping in his bed and accompanying him to family events. That’s especially true when I know he doesn’t bring random women to things like that—both his bed and events.

  Surely, that means something.

  I chew on my bottom lip.

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” Sienna asks.

  “That he laughs in my face.”

  “Do you really think he’d do that?”

  “I hope not.”

  She sighs. “You know that’s not going to happen. Take that option off the table.”

  I shrug. “I guess he could just tell me I’ve seen something between us that he didn’t, and I should just go home.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  I don’t. I really don’t.

  Even with my overthinking brain and paranoia, I don’t think I’m seeing something that’s not there.

  His touch is too tender. His actions too considerate. His kisses too sweet.

  “I’m confident that he feels the same way that I do,” I say. “There’s just too much evidence to support it.”

  “We aren’t in a courtroom.” She laughs. “But go on.”

  I twist my lips into a thin line as I think this through.

  “He asked me to brunch this morning with his family at his parents' house,” I say. “And I got to know his family last night at the concert.”

  “Oh, my gosh! You went to Kelvin McCoy, didn’t you? Did you see Beau McCrae too?”

  I laugh. “No, we missed Beau. But we did see Kelvin … who is Holt’s brother? Did you know that?”

  “Um, yeah. Everyone in Savannah knows that.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Imagine my surprise when I’d gone on and on about him to Holt. I was so embarrassed.”

  Sienna giggles. “That’s hilarious.”

  I sit up in bed again and feel the sunlight on my shoulders. It warms the air and makes it possible to consider climbing out of bed.

  “You need to lay your cards out with Holt,” Sienna says. “You can’t come back here and not know where things stand. And I think—and you do, too, that he probably feels the same way.”

  I close my eyes and fight the urge to put my feelings into the universe. It’s too risky.

  “You guys can take it slow,” Sienna says. “It’s not like either of you are looking to get married next month or something.”

  “True ...”

  Her voice softens. “Just believe in yourself and the possibility of love. I believe in you.”

  “You know what?” I get out of bed. “This whole being friends thing was working out pretty well. But now you’re acting like we’re in a sappy movie, and I’m rethinking my decision to call you about this stuff.”

  She laughs. “You love me.”

  “Stop with the l-word. Geesh.”

  Her laughter grows louder. Eventually, mine mixes with it.

  The sound makes me feel full in a way I’ve never experienced. I feel supported in a way that’s new to me. Sienna likes me for who I am—my difficulties and all.

  Maybe this friendship thing isn’t too bad. And maybe she’s right. Maybe I do love her.

  I stretch my arms overhead and feel my muscles pull. The knots in the back of my neck from being bent onto Holt’s shoulder all night scream for me to take a hot shower.

  I glance at the clock. I have time before Holt comes to pick me up for brunch.

  “I gotta go,” I tell Sienna. “I need to get a shower and then get ready.”

  “You go and have fun. And Blaire?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can do this. Trust me.”

  I grin. “Thanks … friend.”

  I know she’s smiling on the other side. It makes my grin grow wider.

  “You’re welcome … friend.”

  I end the call and head to the shower.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Holt

  “After you,” I say, holding the door open for Blaire.

  The chaos from my parents’ house slams into us as soon as we enter. It’s the sound of home to me—family and food and fun all blended together into one crazy cacophony of the life that I love.

  I watch Blaire out of the corner of my eye. This scene can be a lot to absorb, but she looks unfazed.

  Larissa is in the kitchen with my mother. Steam rises from the sink as they put together a “quick brunch,” as my mom called it. It’ll be a full meal. It always is. My father and brothers sit at the dining room table off the kitchen with cups of coffee in their hands.

  They greet us with waves and hellos.

  Except Coy. He gets to his feet.

  “Hey, Lover Boy,” Coy calls as he walks toward us. His cocky smile is tinted with just enough kindness to keep me from punching him in the face. “I thought Boone was lying when he said you brought a woman to my show last night.”

  Blaire reaches for my hand. I let her take it and hope that it’s a show of solidarity between us and not to keep herself steady because of Coy.

  He stops in front of us. His hair has been lightened and sticks up in a complete mess that I think is intentional. His jeans are ripped. I know Mom doesn’t understand the phrase on his shirt because she’d never allow it in her house.

  It’s Coy, pure and simple. The ornery one of the bunch. The rule-bender and boundary-pusher that he’s always been.

  Despite his don’t-give-a-fuck vibe and history of bad decisions, I still have a ton of respect for him. He has an innate business sense like Oliver and me. He just uses it in a different way.

  He slips his hands in his pockets and fires Blaire a grin. “I hope you liked my show.”

  “It was very entertaining,” she replies. “Your fans certainly got their money’s worth.”

  “Two of them did.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. Good to see you, too, big brother.”

  “Nice to see you too. How’s tour life?”

  “Not bad. I have one more stop in Miami, and then we’re done.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’ll be nice not to live out of a suitcase for a while.”

  “Ah, rock star problems,” I joke.

  His grin is cheeky. “What can I say? It’s a hard life, man.”

  “When do we get to meet Willa Welch?” I ask.

  Blaire looks at me. “The actress?”

  “My brother somehow landed the biggest upcoming actress in Hollywood,” I tell Blaire. “Can you imagine that?”

  Her cheeks flush. “Well …”

  Coy bursts out laughing. “Of course, she can. Have you seen me?”

  “Yeah. I have. And I’ve also seen you put a Sparkler in your ass and light it on the Fourth of July. So, color me surprised that someone with class might want to hook up with you,” I say, much to both of their entertainment.

  “I remember that!” Boone calls from the table. “I think I have it on video somewhere.”

  Blaire’s giggles beside me are all I hear.

  “Nah, that shit
with Willa is fake,” Coy says. “She’s really dating the drummer from Wrecked. My label wanted me to clean up my image a little bit. And her agent wanted to dirty up hers. So they tell us where to be together and when. We show up, follow the script, and go on our merry way.”

  “Contractual relationships. Makes a lot of sense,” Blaire says, side-eyeing me with a grin.

  Coy shrugs. “I just try to keep everyone happy.”

  “That’s what you said on Christmas the morning you tried to start breakfast before Mom woke up,” Wade says.

  “And you about caught the kitchen on fire,” Boone says, laughing.

  My brothers discuss the tales of holidays gone wrong while I just look at the woman holding my hand.

  She glances up at me, ignoring the craziness around her, and smiles. It’s an easy, sweet, supportive gesture that silences any concern I had for bringing her here. I wasn’t going to ask her. Why bother introducing her to everyone when they’ll never see her again? But it didn’t feel right coming without her either.

  Now that we’re here, I know I made the right call.

  I don’t know what that means exactly. But I’m not going to overthink it.

  “I’m sorry. I had to get that mess cleaned up, or it would’ve sat there all day.” My mother comes rushing toward us—meaning Blaire. “How rude, I know.”

  “Mrs. Mason, really, it’s fine,” Blaire says, accepting a hug from my mom. “Thank you for inviting me over this afternoon.”

  My mom runs a hand through the air. “First, it’s Siggy, darling. Second, you have no idea how excited I am to have you here. I’m thrilled.”

  “Are you thrilled to see me too?” I ask.

  Mom laughs. “You know I always love to see your sweet face.”

  Blaire looks at me and makes a face. I laugh.

  “Okay,” Mom says. “Come. Sit. Let’s eat.” She turns toward the dining room table. “Come make your plate, boys. I’m your mother, not your servant.”

  Chairs push back against the tile as my family makes their way into the kitchen. Coy and Boone tease Larissa about something that earns them a smack from Mom.

  “Holton, how is the Landry project coming along?” Dad asks, joining Blaire and me near the sofa. “Oliver was just saying that you had an epiphany last night.”