Page 6 of Holden

Correction: my only shot. I already know the others won’t talk to me now.

It was hard enough getting this interview, practically a miracle.

I think back to how hard I’ve worked gathering information from a million sources, some bad some good.

Including a police officer (now passed away) who hinted that the accounts from that tragic day may not be fully grounded in truth. The police officer had told me again and again that he believed the three boys were lying about some of their story, although exactly what they’d lied about, he did not say.

I stare at Holden, studying the steely hardness of his expression.

“You’re an asshole,” I say, finally, like a child.

The insult seems to greatly amuse Holden. He simply grins. “That may be true, but I guarantee you won’t be able to forget about me…”

I gasp in protest.

“…or my proposal.”

“You’re wrong about that,” I say. Which is another damn lie. No question I’m mad, furious really, but every second in Holden’s presence has me second-guessing my knee-jerk decision to walk away from all of this. His ridiculous offer. Him.

Holden Quinn is like a fucking magnet, pulling me closer, weakening my resolve. I can’t give in. “I won’t give you—or your revolting proposal—another thought.”

I spin on my heel and stalk toward the door.

Holden’s voice follows me, feathering across my skin. “If you change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

“…you have until midnight to accept. Not one minute after.”

I snort out a laugh. Of all the fucking nerve. I roll my eyes with deliberate exaggeration. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Chapter 4

The halls buzz with animated chatter as I make my way to my small dorm room on the third floor. I keep my head bowed low, not interested in conversation, making nice, playing the game of innocent college student when I’m anything but.

What I am, as it turns out, is a liar.

And not a very successful one at that.

I pause at the door and sigh. My roommate and best friend since high school, Lindsay Reynolds, has hung a sock on the door, which is the universal symbol for “Do Not Enter.” Damn it. My frustration is tempered with envy. I don’t remember the last time I went on a date. Even longer still since I’ve been touched by a man, or liked one enough to want to be touched by him.

Holden excluded of course.

My thoughts drift back to his office, where I’m shocked to realize how close I came to actually agreeing to his indecent proposal. It’s more than my need for information—I felt something in his presence. And not just an unfamiliar tingle between my thighs, either.

Which is ridiculous, because Holden Quinn is a stubborn, hot headed, arrogant jerk—

The door opens and Reggie—at least I think his name is Reggie—stumbles out, half dressed, a ridiculously lovesick expression turning him into a cartoon caricature. He’s not ugly, but he’s just a kid, while Holden…

Well, Holden is most definitely a man.

I clear my throat. “Safe to go in now?”

He blinks, like he didn’t even see me standing there—which is par for the course, really—and grins. “Oh, hey Chelsea. Lindsay’s inside.”

“I certainly hope so,” I say. “Otherwise I’d be calling security right now.”

He just chuckles and walks off.