by Aven Ellis
I feel defensive. “We have more in common than you might think,” I say carefully.
“Friendship-wise opposites can work. But the idea of you two dating is hilarious. Matt doesn’t dig deep thoughts in girls he’s attracted to. When he wants to hook up, he wants hot girls who party as hard as he does. And who pack up and leave the next morning, if you know what I’m saying.”
I practically bite my tongue in half to keep from lashing out at Nate. He has no idea the depth Matt has. None. When I think of what Matt has survived, the betrayal and abandonment he has faced, I know he coped the one way he knew how. He’s not some jerk off the ice. Matt was terrified to let people get close to him for fear of getting hurt. He battled loneliness the way he could, by going out and making all relationships superficial.
Nor does Nate know the way Matt guided me through a horrible panic attack. How Matt asked questions nobody has ever asked me before. How much fun we had dancing together. Or how treasured I felt when he kissed me for the first time.
There’s no supermodel hook-up in Matt’s future.
He’s all in with me.
Nate, of course, doesn’t know any of this.
But in time he will, I vow.
He will know the Matt I know.
And Nate will have no choice but to accept him as part of my life.
Marabou’s ears suddenly perk up, and my pulse quickens when I realize Matt is here.
Marabou begins barking and runs toward the door right as Matt rings the doorbell.
“I’ll get it,” Nate says, putting down his phone.
A few seconds later, Nate opens the door.
“Hey Rhines,” Nate says, letting him in.
“What’s up, Nate?” Matt says as he steps inside.
My breath catches in my throat as soon as he does. Matt’s wearing a chocolate-brown, suede leather jacket, one that fits his athletic frame perfectly, with a navy crewneck sweater underneath. I love how the navy makes his blue eyes appear even bluer. He’s also wearing a pair of dark jeans and boots. The look is rugged and masculine.
And I’m so into it.
Matt’s eyes meet mine as he steps inside.
“Hey Holly,” Matt says. “Ready for me to take you shopping?”
I grin. “I am.”
“How did Holly get you roped into grocery shopping, anyway? Don’t you live off Eatzi’s?”
It’s all I can do not to laugh. Eatzi’s is a market where you can get chef-style prepared meals.
“I can’t cook,” Matt says. “I can’t even microwave popcorn in a bag without burning it.”
“Okay, I’m teaching you how to make a few basic meals today,” I say, slinging my tote over my shoulder.
Matt groans. “You’ll be sorry.”
I smile at him. “No, I won’t. And I’ll go easy on you, I promise.”
Nate laughs. “Whatever. You don’t go easy on anybody. Better watch it, Rhines. Holly expects everyone to meet her very high standards.”
Sometimes I want to duct tape Nate’s mouth shut.
Matt doesn’t need to hear that I’ve set the bar for men so high all they can do is knock it down when trying to clear it.
I glance at Matt to see if that comment bothers him.
“We’ll see if I can pass her test,” Matt says. Then he clears his throat. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I say, desperate to get Matt out of here. “See you later, Nate.”
“Don’t burn down the kitchen,” Nate says.
Matt opens the door for me, and I pass through. Then he closes it behind him and we head to the elevator.
I know I need to correct what Nate just said.
“Ignore Nate,” I say. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“What do you mean?”
The doors open, and we step inside. Luckily, we’re alone so we can continue our conversation.
“What he said about me having impossible standards,” I say, turning to him. “I mean, I do. But yo—”
“Holly, is this really how we want to start our date?” Matt asks, a look of disappointment filtering across his face.
Now my face is burning. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I ju—”
Matt draws me into his chest, stopping me mid-sentence. “Let’s do this right. If I were picking you up and Nate wasn’t around, we’d start like this. Hi,” he says, smiling at me.
Oh, I like this boy so much.
“Hi,” I say, smiling back at him.
He slides his hands around my back. “You look beautiful. And the over-the-knee boots are hot.”
I blush furiously and silently thank Nordstrom for having these amazing gray suede boots in my size when I was shopping last week.
“Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself,” I say, brushing my hands over the luxurious jacket he’s wearing.
His eyes remain locked on mine, and I swear I’m so excited I might forget to breathe.
“Are you ready to go?”
I nod happily. “Yes.”
The elevator chimes as it reaches the lobby, and Matt releases me before the doors open.
We walk through the marble foyer and outside to the circular drive in front of the high-rise. Matt’s blue Lamborghini is front and center, waiting for us.
Matt opens the passenger door for me, and I slip inside the posh sports car. He goes around to the driver’s side and gets in. Then he turns to me.
“As far as having high standards,” Matt says as he starts the car, “you should.”
I cringe. “But the way Nate said it isn’t correct. I don’t have this impossible bar you have to climb, Matt.”
“I don’t care if it’s impossible. Because I’ll climb it.”
“What?”
Matt’s gaze holds on mine. “I want to be the man who can meet those standards. And I know I can be.”
As Matt pulls out of the drive and onto the streets of Downtown Dallas, I’m sure he can meet my high standards.
Because he already did with what he just said.
The fact that a man who can have anyone is willing to put in the work is all I need to know.
We’ve only been together one day.
We have a long way to go in learning about each other, working as a team, exploring a sexual relationship.
But I know right now what is in my heart.
He’s The One.
And, hopefully, I’ll be the The One for him, too.
Chapter 14
“What are you doing?”
I finish putting a grocery shopping cart icon in my large planner and glance up at him. We’re driving back from our shopping trip to Target, and I’m updating my planner with my stickers for shopping and Target.
“Logging our activities.” I jot down ‘with Matt’ next to both activities. I swear it’s all I can do not to put a heart sticker next to them, too.
Matt stops at a red light.
“Wait, you’re putting stickers in a book for something we already did?” he asks, confusion laced in his words.
“Well, normally, I would have added these activities to my planner before I left, but I’m working in reverse today.”
“You need a Target sticker to remind yourself to go to Target? You can’t just write, ‘Go to Target?’”
“Well, of course you can, but it’s more fun to use stickers,” I say, flipping a page back. “See? The stickers jump out on the page. It’s visually appealing.”
“Did I see a sticker for Netflix?” Matt asks.
Shit. I log my whole life in my planner, I never thought of how that would look to someone who isn’t a planner addict.
“Um, yes,” I admit.
Matt bursts out la
ughing. “You even remind yourself to watch Netflix.”
“Yes, it’s totally nerdy, but only a true planner addict would understand,” I declare, closing the book and slipping it back into my tote.
“It’s not nerdy.”
“What if I told you I’m active on a planner forum?”
“A what?” Matt asks, driving toward Preston Hollow.
“I’m a member of an online planner forum,” I explain. “It’s a place where planners can share ideas, discuss places to get washi tape and—”
“Wasabi what?” Matt says, a grin spreading across his face.
I giggle. “Washi tape. It’s a Japanese tape made of natural fibers and it’s very strong. But it comes in all kinds of patterns and colors. And it’s transparent! I use it as a highlighter in my planner. I have a drawer full of it back home in Minnesota. Oh,” I say, quickly reaching for my planner again. “I need to have Mom ship those to me.”
“How come I never knew this about you?”
I glance at him. “That I’m a nerd? You had plenty of time to figure that out before you went all in. You can’t back out now.”
“Your planner addiction doesn’t change my all in status,” Matt says as he turns into his neighborhood.
Cue butterflies.
“However,” Matt says, turning left, “I need to make sure your planner is going to reflect your new life.”
Oh!
“How so?” I ask, playing coy.
Matt swings his car into his driveway and punches the remote for the garage. He drives his car inside and puts it into park.
“I want to be in your planner,” he says, shifting his gaze to my face. “All the time.”
Oh, I adore him.
“I want that, too.”
Matt leans in and brushes his lips against mine, easing my mouth open and caressing it with his.
Happiness fills me as we kiss. This man has my heart. I can’t imagine anyone else ever holding it the way Matt does.
My phone starts ringing, and I reluctantly break the kiss.
“I’m sorry,” I say, quickly reaching for it. “It might be about a job.”
“No, take it,” Matt says.
I glance at the number, which I don’t recognize.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, Holly, it’s Harrison Flynn.”
Gah! Panic fills me.
“Hello,” I say formally as I get out of the car.
“Do you have a few minutes? I have a business proposition for you.”
Business proposition? What does that mean?
“Yes, I do,” I say.
If he brings up paying me to help Matt, I swear I’ll scream.
Matt begins unloading our Target haul and motions for me to go on into the house. I head for the living room while Matt goes to the kitchen.
“Okay. Great. Well, you know Kylie and I flip houses during the summer as a side project, right?”
I vaguely remember Nate telling me about this. “Yes.”
“Well, we flipped a small bungalow in Highland Park that we bought at the end of summer. It’s taken longer to flip because the season started, and I’m traveling, but it was such a good project we couldn’t say no. It mainly needed updating. Anyway, we don’t think now would be the best time to put it on the market. Holiday season, then winter, and I think I can get a better price if we list it in the summer.”
“That sounds logical, but what does this have to do with me?”
“We need someone to live in the house until we can sell it,” Harrison says. “It can’t stay vacant.”
“Are you suggesting I rent it?” I ask. “Because there’s no way I can afford that. Even when I get a job, I couldn’t come close to covering what the rent would be for a house in Highland Park.”
“No. I don’t want Kylie to have to deal with finding tenants for the season. And it’s hard to find good people who will take care of the place. So we talked it over, and we would love for you to live there until the season is over and we can sell it. We would pay for utilities. And we already have it staged for showing, so it’s move-in ready. You’d be doing us a huge favor if you’ll accept our offer.”
“Wait,” I say slowly, “you mean, all I have to do is take care of the house?”
“Yeah. Keep it taken care of. That’s all we want until we are ready to unload it in June.”
I realize Harrison is giving me a solution to one of my biggest problems.
A home.
I’m so relieved I want to cry. I’ll have a home for six months. That’s plenty of time to find a job. All I have to worry about is getting a car and I’ll be set.
“Yes,” I say. “I’d love that. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this helps me.”
“I do, but you’re helping us more,” Harrison assures me.
We make arrangements for me to swing by and get the keys from Kylie tomorrow, weather permitting. Then I hang up the phone and race into the kitchen, where I find Matt opening a box of cookware.
“I have the best news!”
Matt pops open the box top. “Did you get an interview?”
“No, but I have a place to live,” I say. “Harrison and Kylie want me to stay in a house they flipped in Highland Park until summer! They want to wait to list it. They don’t want to deal with renting to an unknown person. I’m the house sitter until June!”
Matt’s face lights up. “Are you serious?”
I nod as I move over to him. “Yes! I have a home. Near you.”
Matt steps away from the box and slides his hands to my face. “You’re home now.”
“I am,” I say, and home has nothing to do with my new place in Highland Park.
Matt gives me another sweet kiss, one that makes me melt inside.
He breaks the kiss, and I untie my coat so I can slip out of it. I take it off and drape it over the back of one of his high kitchen chairs at the island.
“Okay, first we’re going to make homemade tomato soup for lunch,” I say, opening the pantry and retrieving the cans of tomatoes we bought earlier.
“You promised grilled cheese, too,” Matt says, moving behind me and sliding his arms around my waist, drawing me to him.
“What’s tomato soup without grilled cheese?”
“It’s like Harry Potter without glasses,” Matt whispers playfully in my ear.
I turn around so I’m facing him, his blue eyes shining affectionately at me, and I know he’s feeling everything I am.
“I’m so happy right now,” I say, sliding my hands up over his broad chest. “I know it took us two years to figure this out, but this is where I’m supposed to be.”
Matt strokes the side of my face with his hand. “I would wait two more years for you, Holly. I’d wait as long as I had to so we could be here right now.”
Then he hugs me, holding me tight. I close my eyes and relish the feeling of safety. I’m safe. I’m cared for. I’m supported by these arms.
Matt steps away, and I go about teaching him how to make soup. Luckily it doesn’t take too long, since we’re both starving, and soon we’re sitting next to each other at the island eating.
“Still no sign of the impending winter catastrophe,” I say, gazing out the window before dipping my sandwich into the soup. The sky is that purple-gray color it takes on before it snows, but nothing is in sight yet.
“Just wait. The word snowflake freaks people out. So you dip?”
“I dip,” I say, taking a bite. “Mmm, it’s good. Homemade soup is the best thing ever.”
“I thought you said the brownies we’re making later are the best thing ever,” he teases.
“My brownies are legendary,” I declare. “And the batter is delectable.�
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“You’re talking a big brownie game.”
“I can deliver.”
“Oh, serious game,” Matt says, his eyes dancing. “I always liked that about you, by the way.”
“What? That I talk game?”
“You were never afraid to show that side to me. I liked it.”
“I share things with you nobody else knows,” I admit, taking another bite of my sandwich.
“I know you do,” he says, pausing to eat some soup. “Like your sexy taco socks.”
I laugh so hard soup shoots out my nose, flying across the island and landing in a red-orange splot in front of Matt.
“Gah!” I cry, mortified.
“Did that shoot out of your nose?” Matt asks, losing it.
I know I’m the same shade as the soup now.
“Um, yes,” I say, reaching for a napkin and blowing my nose, which is burning from soup acid.
Matt is dying. I’m dying too, but for an entirely different reason.
“Now that’s hot,” he declares, losing it all over again.
“Shut up,” I say, but I’m laughing, too. I get up to grab a paper towel so I can clean up my mess.
“Okay, I’ve made a note not to make you laugh while eating. Hey, do you have a sticker for that? Or wasabi tape? Maybe I should put it in a planner.”
“You’re going to pay for mocking my planner,” I declare. “Doubly so for making fun of my beloved washi tape.”
“I’ll be sure to watch my step,” Matt says, giving me that sexy smirk.
Oh, I adore him.
We finish up lunch, and our next project is to organize his kitchen. We bought all of the basic cookware at Target, and I explain what each item is used for as I take it out of the bag and find a home for it in a way that is user-friendly.
“You do realize you have to teach me how to use all of these things,” he says, watching as I put the last item, a cookie sheet, away in a lower cabinet.
“Yes, I do.”
“It could take a long time,” Matt says, leaning against the kitchen countertop.
