Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends 2)

I shrug. “I was okay—a few hearts were probably broken before Stacy crushed mine. But…I don’t know, maybe you’re right. Breaking up with someone isn’t easy.”

“No, it’s horrible, even when they treat you like shit. Because when it’s tumultuous, the breakup ends up being a huge screaming match. On the other hand, if it’s amicable or the other person doesn’t see it coming, that’s just as bad, because he or she is blindsided—like you were when Stacy dumped you.”

“I’m still not over it,” I say stubbornly with a grin.

Hollis smiles. “What do you suppose Stacy is doing right now?”

My mouth shifts in thought. “Mmm, probably a reporter for tabloids, spreading fake news. Or an actress.”

That makes her laugh. “Seriously? She’s probably a nurse or something. Or a teacher. I bet she’s changed, no longer breaking hearts.”

“Lonely hearts club,” I say.

My hand goes to the tabletop, resting on its cool surface, palm spread, facing the sky. I don’t know why I place it there, but I’m surprised when Hollis leans forward and extends her hand, placing it in mine.

Electricity shoots up my arm, straight to my chest.

“Thank you for coming over. You really cheered me up.” She’s sort of beaming at me, happy and glad, cheeks rosy.

I glance behind us, into the house, searching for a glimpse of Madison. “Your friend in there wasn’t getting the job done?”

“Maddie was too angry on my behalf to have done any good—I would rather be smiling than pissed off. I’ve done too much of that, and I’m over it. Marlon isn’t worth it. I know that now.”

She’s right, he isn’t worth it, and maybe someday he won’t be such a fucking asshole that women blindly follow around—but for now, he’s toxic to anyone he’s in a relationship with. Including his friends, I imagine.

I detest dudes like that.

I like Noah Harding, Miranda, my parents, and like, three other people.

Plus construction, ice cream, and riding mopeds when I’m on vacation.

Not necessarily in that order.

“Is she even here anymore?” I can’t see Madison through the glass.

“Who—Stacy?” Hollis teases.

“Oh how you wound me.” I clutch my chest. “No, your friend. Where’d she go? I would have thought she’d have her eagle eye on me. She doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Or at all.

Hollis cranes her neck. Pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and checks it. “She left.”

She left? “How come?” I don’t know shit about women, but I know some shit about women, and her best friend said more than that.

Her shoulder rises in a demure shrug. “She said we looked serious so she wanted to give us privacy, and I should text her when you leave.”

Well, well, well—this is a new development. “Does that mean she semi-approves of me?”

A mean poker face stares back. “We haven’t discussed you.”

I think my eyes damn near bug out of my skull and I almost lurch across the table, belting out a laugh. “Who’s the liar now! Bullshit—you girls tell each other everything! There is no way Madison doesn’t have the entire 411 on me. No fucking way. You’re such a damn liar.”

Hollis’s stalwart expression breaks, a cute little snicker erupting from her throat. “I mean—maybe.”

I start to rise, unable to bear it. Now that I know we’re alone? I have to kiss her.

Shoving up from my chair, I move the table aside—an easy task since it’s basically tinfoil—and swoop down, scooping up a squealing Hollis.

“What are you doing! Put me down! Are you insane?”

“I’m trying to be romantic here. Cut me some slack and stop wiggling around before I drop you, ’kay?”

Her lips clamp shut. She nods.

Using my foot, I toe the sliding door open, pushing it on its track so we can get back into the house. Use my ass to slide it shut, stride a few feet back into the kitchen.

There’s a small sitting area on the far end, with a fireplace and a television, and in a few seconds I’m there, setting her on the couch. Lower myself to my knees in front of her and take her face in my hands.

“I’m sorry you had a shitty day, but I want to help make it better,” I croon, knowing my voice has dropped a few octaves.

She shivers. “How?”

I reach for the fly of her denim shorts, measuring her reaction as I tug down her zipper. Waiting for any indication she doesn’t want this.

Hollis tilts her head back and spreads her legs wider, arms hitting the couch cushions. Body sinking into the fabric.

From my position in front of her, I pull those shorts over her hips, down her thighs. Her smooth, smooth thighs…

Let them fall to the floor, give my attention to her underwear. It’s white, basic cotton—not what I was expecting, but sexy just the same.

She watches me, blushing. “I wasn’t expecting company.” Not quite an apology, but close.