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Chapter 9
Oliver
Holland and I had a lot more in common than I’d realized. Was that why I was so drawn to her? Did my soul recognize a kindred spirit? It wasn’t the kind of touchy-feely shit I generally dealt in, but it seemed like it could be true. I thought about that as I walked to my car. I was tempted to tell her everything about me, to pay her back in kind for what she’d shared. I had already owed her—no one else had been able to tolerate me in the past months, or maybe I hadn’t given anyone the chance. Either way, just being around her felt like some kind of salvation, and I wasn’t ready to let it go. I felt like I was doing a lot of taking and not much giving, mostly because I had very little to give at this point. I had done my best to be less of an ass than usual, and was rewarded when she agreed to meet again the following day.
I knew that for her, agreeing to see me again was about needing my help with her presentation, and if I was convinced that was all she wanted, it still might have been enough. There was something else between us, though. Maybe. And she wasn’t the only one who needed help. Holland made me feel human again, gave me a glimmer of a reason to think maybe not everyone around me was completely full of shit.
The following day, we worked again for hours. We were heads-down straight through lunch and into the afternoon before we took a break. Holland’s focus was unwavering, and if I leaned back in my chair and stretched, angling for a few minutes of her attention, she kept her eyes on the screen, even as my eyes scanned her. Something had shifted overnight, and I got the sense Holland had decided to keep things on a work level, to ignore whatever tension or interest was growing between us.
“What’s going on?” I asked, knowing I shouldn’t push but unable to stop myself.
She looked at me, her eyes finding mine for several seconds before darting back to the screen. “Nothing, I just…I’m worried about this, that’s all.”
“We’ve got it,” I assured her. Three hours of solid focus had gotten us through the more intricate parts of the presentation, and at this point we were just glossing it up. “You’ve got it.”
She nodded, eyes still on the final slide. “Good.” She glanced at me, then dropped her eyes to her lap. “Okay. Good,” she said again.
“Yeah, you said that.” I leaned in to catch her eye. “Holland. Did I do something?”
She shook her head, the glossy waves falling over her shoulder again, making me wish I could reach out and push them back. I imagined the silken feel of her hair, the weight of it in my hand.
She was deciding something. I could feel it. Panic threatened to rise in me because I knew she was about to stand up and walk away from me. I couldn’t let her. I threw out a line, hoping she’d take it.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She didn’t argue as I dropped bills on the table. Holland packed up her bag and stood, following me out the door of the café and onto the brightly lit sidewalk.
“Walk on the pier?” I suggested, taking her laptop bag from her and slinging it across my shoulder.
She looked uncomfortable as I took it, her jaw flexing and her eyebrows moving together above her sunglasses.
“I’m not going to steal it, Holland. It’s heavy. You shouldn’t have to carry it around.”
“Thanks.” She said it slowly and then continued. “I guess I’m not used to having help with…things.”
We walked slowly and I thought about that, about what her life must have been like. Like me, she’d been labeled insufficient as an infant, before she’d even had a chance. But unlike me, she’d never been granted the knowledge that maybe she was enough, that she was worthy of love. No one ever chose her. The insight struck me hard, and I almost stumbled as the thought hit me. I caught myself and continued walking, the revelation that even though my parents had chosen to lie to me for the entirety of our relationship, at some point they had actually chosen me. They had picked me even after some unknowable parents had cast me off. It was a small comfort. One that Holland didn’t have.
I gazed at her, all long legs and glowing hair walking beside me in the gleaming sun. When we were outside, none of the hesitation I’d seen in the coffee shop showed. She strode with her head up and her eyes forward, like the sidewalk belonged to her. It was the thing I’d noticed in the coffeehouse that first day, the thing that drew me to her most. She was confident and strong, sure of herself. She was fucking amazing.
We strolled south along Ocean Avenue until we got to the pier, the Ferris wheel turning at a pace that matched the serene ocean waves rolling in. There were tourists crowding the arcade and standing in line for rides, and children shrieked and hollered as they pounded past us on chubby legs. It was a relief to be amid the chaos because it distracted me, kept me from thinking too hard. I bought two tickets to the Ferris wheel without consulting Holland, and led her to the line beneath it, turning to face her as we waited.
“I’m supposed to be working today,” she said, staring up at the massive wheel.
“There are a lot of things I’m supposed to be doing,” I told her. “And we did lots of work today. And yesterday. There’s always tomorrow.”
She blew out a frustrated breath, her eyes widening. “I should spend every second I have on it. I know this is just a passing distraction for you, Hale. But for me? This is a make-or-break presentation. If I blow this…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes slid across mine for a second before she squeezed them shut.
Without thinking, I reached out and took her chin gently in my hand, leaning in. “I won’t let you blow it.” It was a promise, one I intended to keep.
For a brief second, her eyes flew open and melted under my gaze, becoming liquid and cloudy, her face just inches from my own. But then she took a step back and covered whatever expression I’d glimpsed with a bright smile. “It’s stopping.”
The Ferris wheel had stopped turning and was letting people out as the line advanced and new riders took their places. Holland looked uncertain, but let me drag her into a cheerful yellow car where she sat across from me. As we rose into the air, Holland turned her head, looking around her like a nervous kid, and I let myself watch her. Her eyes glowed as we rose higher, her excitement—or was it fear?—plain in the flush on her cheeks, the bright glint of those crystal eyes. She was childlike in some ways, quick to laugh and smile. But I’d seen the tough edge she could don, too—the one that had called me an asshole the first time we met, the one that had survived a childhood undoubtedly spent plagued by the pain of never having been chosen. The fire inside her was compelling, and I felt my cock stirring to life as I watched her across from me, her simple T-shirt doing little to hide the perfect curve of her breasts, the long slim lines of her milky arms. I wanted to touch her. Hell, I wanted a lot more than that.
I’d been with women—plenty of them, but Celia the longest. And none of them had awakened the kind of pure desire I felt around Holland. Celia had been beautiful, smart, and self-assured. But she had also been essentially dropped in my lap like everything else I’d once had. I hadn’t had to work for her, hadn’t wanted to win her. With Holland, it was completely different. I wanted her. I wanted to cover her body with mine, strip those tight jeans from her hips and ease into her, feel her sweetness and steel surrounding me. I wanted to lose myself in this girl. Hell, I was crazy enough to think maybe I didn’t just want to have her. I wanted to keep her.
But instead of doing anything at all, I just watched her, wondering how long I could hope to keep her in my life.
She grinned at me, an edge of tension in her smile, and I felt myself smile back, though I realized in that moment that if we were going to go any further, if I was going to keep her—as friends or…anything else, I needed to let her know who I was. I doubted she’d let the news that I was the CEO of the company she worked for just roll off her back. Especially since we’d been strategizing together on a technology that could very well save the company. My company.
I needed to come clean. “Holland,” I started, but as the wheel crested the top of its arc, she slid from her side of the small covered car over to mine. She was suddenly beside me, pressing herself into my side with wide frightened eyes, and words flew from my brain.
“I should have mentioned that I hate heights,” she whispered, an edge of panic in her voice.
I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her against me, her warmth sweet against my chest as she ducked her head beneath my chin, refusing to look. “That might have been useful information,” I said.
I’d misread her panic as excitement, and cursed myself for putting her in an uncomfortable position. At the same time, I didn’t regret having her nestled at my side. Her hair smelled like lemons and vanilla as she curved into the hollow of my body, and I couldn’t help burying my face in its crown, inhaling her. As the wheel descended, Holland looked up and around, but she stayed pressed into my side, and each time we rose, she buried her face again.
Holland was in my arms, filling my senses. I wrapped my other arm across her, protecting her from whatever unseen enemies attacked those suspended on Ferris wheels, and every thought flew from my mind except for one. I never wanted this ride to end.
