Claiming Holly (Holiday Cove 1)

I straightened and waited for her to join me as we went inside the bar. I didn’t stop to look back but could feel Player’s eyes on me as I left the patio, just like the buzzard he was.

“I’m Tessa,” the girl stated as we entered the bar, shoulder to shoulder.

“Boomer,” I replied.

“It’s nice to meet you, Boomer.”

We reached the bar and I turned to face her. “Spritzer?”

“No, actually, I’d be better off switching to club soda. I’m a total lightweight.” The way she said it with a smirk left no doubt in her intentions for the night. “I wouldn’t want to do something…too crazy.”

I laughed softly. “So, bad time to ask about doing a shot together, then?”

She gazed up at me. “I don’t know, Boomer—can I really call you that?

“Sure. That’s my name.”

“So, are you the kinda guy that a girl like me should do a shot with?” She rested her hand on my arm and I knew she wanted me to say yes. She was begging to be talked into letting her inner wild cat out for the night.

“That depends—” I started, but stopped mid-thought, my eyes drifting over Tessa’s shoulder, to the front door of the bar, which swung open to reveal a gorgeous blonde with long, tan legs that had been running around my mind since that morning on the beach.

Holly. I perked and smiled over at her, wondering if she’d even recognize me. After all, our conversation had lasted less than ten minutes. Less than five, really.

Holly scanned the room, nervously tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear and stopped abruptly when her brown eyes locked with mine. She held my gaze for a second, a smile starting to form on her full lips, but it died when her eyes dropped and took in the shapely backside of my companion.

“Depends on what?” Tessa asked, her voice husky and flirtatious, as her fingers wandered up my chest to touch the expanse of skin exposed at the collar where I’d left the top button of my shirt undone.

Startled by her question and her intimate touch, I tore my eyes from Holly and looked down at Tessa. “Depends?” I repeated.

Tessa frowned and looked over her shoulder. “What are you…oh.”

Holly was still standing in the doorway, looking confused as to whether she should stay or go.

“Who’s she?” Tessa demanded, the honey tone to her voice gone.

I bounced a glance down at Tessa and when I looked back up again, Holly was gone. The only proof that she had even been there at all was the flapping door.

“What the hell are you trying to pull, here Boomer?” Tessa dropped her hand from my chest and planted both balled up fists on her hips. Her blue eyes were full of fury as she waited for my answer.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?” Aaron’s voice drifted over.

I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment before rounding to face my friend. True to his name—Player—he’d “bagged the leftovers” and had the blonde and remaining brunette on either side of him. The girls were looking at Tessa with wide eyed alarm.

“Before he could even buy me a drink, he was eye-fucking some other girl. While I was standing right here!” Tessa shouted, all but stamping her stiletto-clad feet.

The two friends exchanged a dark glance between themselves and then took turns volleying even darker looks at Aaron and me. They released their hold on Aaron and went to comfort their ruffled friend.

“Your assholes have a nice night,” the blonde said, wrapping a protective arm around Tessa, who was still putting on her show.

I didn’t even bother explaining myself as they marched away.

Aaron elbowed me. “This is why you don’t wait six weeks. Fuck, man! You’re a little outta practice, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t mean to torpedo your night too.”

He shrugged. “No worries. The night’s still young. You wanna get another beer?”

I looked over at the front door and wondered if Holly was still nearby. “Nah, I think I’ll head back.”

“All right, man.” Player pulled his car keys out of his pocket and we headed out into the night. As we walked down the block to where we’d parked, I scanned the streets but there was no sign of Holly anywhere.

8

Holly

I lounged on the couch, finally cracking the cover on the dog training book I’d purchased after realizing how much of a handful it was to own a puppy. At the same time, Hunter slept on the floor beside me. I read a few chapters, making notes in the margins every few sentences. When Hunter was asleep and not pulverizing the house, it was easy to imagine training him. The fantasy land version of our training sessions went smoothly, and I welled up with excitement, suckered into thinking I’d finally be able to leave my closet open during the day and not end up with a pile of shreds that used to be my shoe collection.