Unwrapping Holly

by Lisa Renee Jones

  NEARLY TEN O’CLOCK ON SATURDAY morning, more than a week after Holly had helped decorate Cole’s tree, Holly sat at Cole’s island counter, computer in front of her, wearing only his T-shirt. Only a few feet away, despite the ultra-macho facade he presented to the rest of the world, Cole made an adorably sexy effort to cook breakfast. No cereal and Pop-Tarts today, he’d said.

  “Damn,” he mumbled, displeased with something happening inside the skillet that he was tending. He wore blue plaid pajama bottoms that hugged his nice, tight backside in all the right places. He cut her a look over his shoulder, the flex of muscle rippling beneath a white tee. “Sorry, babe, but your over-easy eggs just became scrambled.”

  “Even better,” she promised, smiling to herself. She loved everything about this man, she realized in that moment. It was insane. Crazy insane. She’d never loved all the little particulars about a man. But that was before Cole. The way he moved, the way he smiled that one-dimple smile. The way he hummed as he shaved and sang Garth Brooks in the shower. She knew these things because they’d become inseparable, with a few exceptions. Holly would lunch with her parents, then spend a few hours at the cottage writing.

  Later, she’d meet Cole at his place for dinner and more writing, with a delicious reward to follow. His creative sexual expertise was quite remarkable, and despite her silent daily vow that this night would be the night she’d return home, she never did.

  Thus far, they’d kept their relationship, or whatever it was, under wraps. At first, that had been fine. But her feelings were changing, her desire for nothing more than a quick fling fading, replaced by a longing for something more that she could no longer ignore. And unless she was completely off base, he felt the same way. She just wished she could be sure.

  Regardless, sooner or later, she had to tell Cole she was thinking of moving home. Sooner, she thought. Because she wasn’t going to be driven away by a love affair gone bad. But she also didn’t want him thinking she’d moved back to Haven in some kind of desperate stalker mode. Right. She had to tell him. Tell him now.

  She drew a breath. Small talk to lead into the subject, she decided. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook,” Holly teased, peeking over the counter to admire his tight tush and biting her lip in appreciation.

  He eyed her over his shoulder. “Scrambled eggs and bacon don’t count as cooking.”

  “And if I said I scramble eggs about as well as I fix a car, what would you say?” she asked.

  Cole chuckled and cast her another quick look. “I like takeout, and as for the car, that’s what brothers are for. In this case—Abe.”

  “Your brothers might be a pain some days, but you’re lucky to have your siblings nearby,” Holly said. Being around Cole and his brothers had made her wish her siblings were closer. But now even moving back home wouldn’t make that happen, since the Reddy siblings had all left Haven. “And as for the cooking,” she added. “I do make a mean box of Kraft mac and cheese. Add a little Texas salsa and it’s gourmet, baby.”

  Cole’s cell phone rang a moment before it vibrated across the countertop beside Holly. “Can you see if that’s Abe?” he asked, lifting the pan to pour the eggs onto a plate. She knew he didn’t want to miss the call. He’d been trying to reach Abe about some survey on the property they were buying; the meeting was being moved to later that day.

  Holly’s chest tightened with the request. They were feeling like a couple. She’d never felt like a couple. Never wanted to be a couple. She grabbed the phone and scanned the screen. “It’s him,” she said.

  “Can you answer it?” Smoke poured from the pan as he ran water over it. Bacon crackled on the stove with the need for attention. “Tell him to hold on.”

  Another moment of surprise washed over her before she punched the answer button. “Hi, Abe,” she said, trying to sound cool and collected when she was wondering what judgment Abe would make about her answering Cole’s phone. “It’s Holly. Cole’s cooking and—”

  “Wait a minute,” Abe said, his tone clipped. “Did you say that my brother—as in Cole Wiley—is cooking? What the hell are you doing to him, Holly?”

  He sounded so serious, Holly faltered, unsure what to say. Before she could formulate a response, Cole cursed, and Holly’s gaze jerked in his direction. He was holding his hand where he’d burned it, his jaw clenched in obvious pain.

  “Oh crap,” she said, followed by, “Hold on,” into the phone, as she jumped off the bar stool to go to Cole’s aid. Then to Cole, “Are you okay? How bad is it?”

  “I’ll live,” he grumbled, turning on the water and shoving his hand under. “Burns like a bitch, though.”

  Holly flipped the heat off the bacon, the phone still at her ear. “Abe?”

  “I’m here,” he said. “And that’s what I was trying to tell you. Cole’s a menace in the kitchen,” he added, obviously overhearing the entire mess. “A downright danger. Always has been. Get him the hell out of there before he burns it down.”

  Holly’s chest filled with barely contained laughter because it appeared so true, but now wasn’t the time to jest with Cole. Still, it was quite comical that with the steely tough exterior and firm resolve Cole radiated, a kitchen skillet had him grumbling in pain.

  “I will,” she vowed to Abe. “I’ll get right on that.”

  Cole surveyed his wound as she watched and, with a grimace, he shoved his hand back under the water. “Tell Abe the meeting is pushed back to four o’clock.”

  She started to repeat the message. “Cole says—”

  “I’ll be there,” Abe said. “But do your womanly, kiss the-wound-and-make-it-better thing and have him call me back. We’ve got trouble with that guy who Jacob scrabbled with at the bar. He came up to us at a gas station last night and tried to start something. I held Jacob back, but I was damned tempted to pop the guy myself.”

  Holly cast Cole a concerned look. “Yes, okay. I’ll make sure.” She ended the call and set the phone aside.

  “Once I sign the final papers on the bed-and-breakfast, I want you to come see the place,” Cole said as Holly grabbed a towel and filled it with ice.

  It pleased Holly that Cole wanted her to see the bed-and-breakfast. “I’d love that.” She stepped to his side at the sink and turned off the water. “Wrap this around your hand and call Abe back. You’re going to want to talk to him.”

  He ignored the ice and studied her. “What’s that look you’re giving me? What’s up?”

  She sighed. “That guy who Jacob tussled with at The Tavern tried to pick a fight with Abe and Jacob last night at some gas station.”

  “That son of a bitch,” he said, ignoring the towel, the burn apparently forgotten as he reached for the phone. He dialed Abe and then glanced at the towel. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

  She tried to hand him the towel again, but Abe answered and Cole launched into conversation, towel forgotten again as he paced and talked. Holly sighed and set the towel down, shoving a hand through her sleep-rumpled hair, before digging in to try and save breakfast. By the time Cole hung up the phone, she’d concluded it was a hopeless effort. The eggs were watery and the bacon burned and greasy.

  Cole set his phone back down, hands on his lean hips, his lips a thin, hard line. He was clearly not happy. “You’re meeting Sheriff Jack today about those research questions, right?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “This afternoon. Hopefully, before my sister gets in. She’s already on the road. Should be here by dinner.”

  “Good,” he said, his tone firm, decisive. “I’ll ride along. We can get some food on the way. I want to talk to the sheriff before this situation with Jacob gets any more out of hand.”

  She shook what felt like cobwebs from her head. “Wait. You’ve spent a week-plus hiding me away in your house, and now suddenly you decide we’re going public? You think you might want to ask me?”

  A dark challenge flickered across his handsome features. “You have a problem with people know
ing we’re dating?”

  That drew her up short. “What? Dating? Are we dating? Is that what this is?”

  He picked her up and set her on the counter, gently but firmly, nudging her legs apart to step between them. “You got a problem with that?” he challenged, his deep-chocolate eyes daring her to answer wrong. “Because I have to tell you, Holly. I’m done pretending this is nothing. And if you think I’m letting you hide me away any longer, you’re wrong.”

  “Me?!” she demanded. “You’re the one who hasn’t suggested leaving the house.”

  “Because you have a gossip phobia,” he countered.

  “I don’t!” she said. “I didn’t want to get caught in your truck with my dress up to my waist. I thought you—”

  His hands slid to her face, an impassioned look etching his features. “You thought wrong.” His eyes searched hers. “Holly. I’m not letting you go back to Houston without finding out why you make me so crazy.”

  Her heart squeezed and she struggled to form words. “I make you crazy?”

  “Yeah, baby,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “You make me over-the-top crazy.”

  Sweet wonder slid through her. “You make me crazy, too,” she whispered.

  She smiled inside and out. This big, gorgeous, wonderful man was crazy about her. And she was crazy about him.

  Still. The moving-home situation twisted in her gut. “Cole.” She bit her lip, a bit nervous. Pressing her hands on his chest, she leaned back. “I need to tell you one thing.”

  He tensed, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “There’s someone back in Houston.”

  “No!” she said, her hand brushing his cheek. “Nothing like that. I just . . . well . . . I came home for the holidays thinking of moving back to Haven. No one knows. I didn’t want to be pressured to make a decision. But I need you to understand that if we don’t work out, well . . . I won’t be tucking tail and running back to Houston. Stay or go, I’m deciding based on what is right for me.”

  His eyes darkened, dilated. “Fair enough. As long as you know I plan to influence your decision.” His palms pressed her T-shirt up her legs. “Starting now.” He nibbled her ear. “I’m going to eat you for breakfast. Then you can take me to lunch.” He went down on his knees, inched her legs farther apart, and then, with a gentle repositioning, he lifted one leg, and then the other, over his shoulders.

  He leaned into her, his breath warm as it feathered her clit. “I’m going to taste you now, Holly.” His eyes held hers, and he lowered his head, watching her as he suckled her sensitive nub into his mouth.

  Holly gasped at the intimate contact and waves of pleasure shimmered through her limbs. Suddenly, he was licking her, exploring her with a firm, confident tongue that quickly built sensation into writhing desperation.

  “Cole,” she panted, asking for that untouchable, unbelievable place that only orgasm could deliver.

  “Easy, baby,” he murmured, brushing two fingers across her cleft before penetrating her, curving his fingers just right.

  Holly arched into the feel of it, cried out when his lips and fingers worked together, worked her into a place of pure oblivion. There was no inhibition, no holding back the soft moans that floated heedlessly from her lips.

  Tension tightened her stomach, her hips, the wave of pleasure rushing at her, release quivering around his fingers, into his mouth.

  Any other time, with any other man, she’d have turned away, tried to hide her pleasure. But not with Cole. It didn’t matter that he was watching her, that he seemed to see straight to her soul. Not anymore. He made her crazy and she liked it. Maybe, she even loved it. Maybe she loved him.

  Chapter Eight

  Several hours after the flipping, life-changing conversation he’d had with Holly in his kitchen, Cole was still shaking, scared in his boots as they exited the sheriff’s office, his arm protectively wrapped around her shoulders. But this was the best damned scared he’d ever felt in his life. A raw, share-everything-you-are, good and bad, as in total emotional and physical disclosure. It was flipping terrifying. And exhilarating. He didn’t care if he’d known Holly two weeks or twenty years, she was the “one” for him. He knew it down to the very core of his existence.

  An icy gravel mixture crunched beneath Cole’s feet as they stopped next to Holly’s sensible rental car, and he pulled her into his arms. She’d told him she’d bought a BMW to celebrate her first, big, courtroom victory. He wanted to celebrate her next victory with her, and judging from what he’d read in the pages of her book, she was headed toward another one.

  Holly slid her arms under his coat, her soft, warm body pressed close. Her cute, pointed chin tilted upward, her cheeks glowing rosy red from the wind. “Sounds like the sheriff is going to take care of Jacob’s little problem.”

  Turned out the other kid had a petty theft and family violence record that made the sheriff none too happy about having him in town. He didn’t plan to allow him to stay. “I hope he gets on it before Jacob does it for him.”

  Holly settled her hand over his heart. “Jacob has that cast. That should be a deterrent.”

  Cole sniffed at that. “You’ve been around Jacob enough to know he’s not detoured by much.”

  Reluctantly, she agreed. “That is true.”

  “Did Sheriff Jack answer all of your questions for the book?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “Exactly what I needed to finish up this chapter that I’m working on.” She shifted the conversation, casting him a shy look. “I know I said I couldn’t come out tonight because my sister’s arriving, but can I change my mind? Come out late, after everyone’s in bed?”

  Was she kidding? “Hell yes, you can change your mind,” he said as strands of her long, blond hair fluttered out from beneath her woven pink hat and tickled his chin. He slid his hand around her waist, brushing the curve of her hip. “You clearly don’t get it yet, Holly, but you will. You will. As far as I’m concerned, you belong in my bed. Tonight. Every night.”

  She blushed, her lashes fluttering. “Cole.”

  He slid a finger under her chin, leveled her in a steady gaze. “In case you didn’t catch on,” he said, “we had lunch in one of the most popular restaurants in the town and turned plenty of heads. I picked that place for a reason—to tell everyone, including you, especially you, this is the real deal.” He held his breath, not sure what to expect from her or how she would respond. “You’re it for me, baby. You’re mine. I don’t plan on letting you go.”

  She bit her lip in a shy moment before turning to seductive play. “I like this possessive-caveman Cole Wiley. It makes me hot.” She pushed to her toes and nipped his lip. “Make sure you bring him to bed tonight.”

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured. His hands caressed up her rib cage, and brushed the swell of her lush breasts. “He’ll be ready, willing, and waiting.” He patted her ass and reluctantly released her, yanking open her car door. “I better run before I miss my meeting.”

  Her hands settled on the top of the door before she climbed inside. “Call me after you finish your survey. I want to talk to you about Christmas.”

  His brows dipped. Was this the part where she shut him out? “What about it?”

  “About us . . .” she hesitated, those pink cheeks smudged pinker, the adorable shyness returning. He loved the way she could be sexy, hot, and aggressive one minute, and prim and proper the next. “I was thinking,” she said, trying again. “Well. You know. Us together, for Christmas. Our families, maybe. If you think we might?”

  A grin of pure appreciation filled his face. He leaned over the door and kissed her. “Yes. No maybe about it. Christmas together is perfect. You’re perfect.”

  He left her sitting there with a big, gorgeous smile lighting up her lovely features. And as he climbed into his pickup truck, Cole decided that life was good. It was damned good.

  AN HOUR AFTER LEAVING COLE back at the sheriff ’s office, Holly sat at Grandma Reddy’s kitchen table, her laptop in front of her,
still grinning to herself like some silly schoolgirl over the way things were going with her and Cole. She thought of his statement “you’re mine” and grinned some more. For the independent woman she considered herself, Cole’s caveman routine should be stifling. But it wasn’t. It was hot. It was amazingly hot. Maybe because Cole had already proven he had a softer side, the one who’d read her work the night before when she’d been stuck on a plot point and then helped her think her way out of the corner she’d written herself into. She smiled and started writing, sliding quickly into a zone where the words flew onto the page.

  Abruptly though, her fingers froze over the keyboard when a commotion outside jerked her out of the scene she was writing. Voices. Banging. What the heck?

  Both concerned and irritated at being pulled away from her work, Holly rushed to the door and shoved her arms into her coat, her feet into the snow boots her father had given her several days before. Standing on the porch, she saw a group of men drilling a hole nearby on the property. What?

  She dug her phone out of her pocket and tried to call her parents but received no answer. Surely they would have told her if there was something going on today before they left for the airport.

  Holly stomped down the stairs and made it all of a few steps before she froze. Cole? She blinked. Surely that wasn’t Cole standing there, talking with three other men. A few steps away from them, several other guys were taking some sort of measurement. On her parents’ property. What was going on?

  Her stomach lurched, and her hand pressed against it, as another truck—a familiar truck—pulled up and a moment later, Abe crossed toward Cole. She had a bad feeling about this. Really bad.

  Holly launched into action, praying this gut-wrenching feeling that twisted and turned with every step was for nothing. Cole seemed to sense her approach, his gaze lifting, seeking, and settling on Holly. His handsome, chiseled features flashed with surprise a moment before his long, lean legs began eating up the distance between them.