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“Any time, Lydia.” He stood up awkwardly, tugging on his khakis. “Any fucking time.”
Leaning down, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her temple. When he pulled back, his lips hovered over hers. So close, and yet so freaking far. “I have to go to work now, but don’t open the door for any strange men. Especially me.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll always open the door for you. If you don’t want me to let you in, then
don’t knock.”
His fingers tightened on her hair. “I wish it was that easy. I really fucking do.”
With that, he let go of her and left without another word. The second the door closed behind him, she collapsed against the couch, her fingers pressed to her lips.
What did that even mean?
Chapter Nine
On Monday morning, Holt glanced at the clock for what had to be the millionth fucking time. All day long, Lydia had been on his mind. Her smell. Her laugh. The way she’d clung to him, all fiery and pissed off at her douchebag of an ex. But mostly, he’d been thinking about how close he’d been to fucking her the other night, and how he never should have stopped.
Sure, she deserved better. But in his opinion, most women deserved better than the men they were with. It was always that way, because men were dicks by nature. Maybe it went against his DNA to admit that, but what the fuck ever. It was true. So, yeah, he was a dick.
But so was every other guy out there.
If she had to be with one of them—if she refused to be sensible and join a convent—why couldn’t it be him?
A knock sounded on the door, and he glanced up gratefully. Today had to be the longest day in the history of all mankind, so he’d welcome the distraction. Any distraction. “Come in,” he called out.
Cooper Shillings popped his head in, scanned the room, and walked inside. “Hey, man.”
“Hello.” Holt sat up straight and tugged on his shirt. He’d been slouching, damn it. His boss rarely came into his office, so he hadn’t expected him to do so today. “How can I help you?”
“Have you talked to Gordon lately?”
Holt blinked. “Yeah, Friday. Why?”
“I want to do something for him, because of that whole princess thing.” Cooper waved a hand, his green eyes brighter than normal, and sat in front of Holt’s desk. “Apparently, when I fell in love with Kayla, I became a fucking softie and want everyone else to be happy, too.”
Holt choked on a laugh. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“He’s listed as private and is unsearchable in the databases, so I want to send his address to the queen. Just in case.” Cooper paused, then pulled a file out of his lap. “This is her information. Just see that she finds it in her phone, or on her laptop somehow. But he can’t know we did it. Neither can she.”
Holt blinked. “Let me get this straight. You want me to hack a queen’s phone, give her Gordon’s number, and then back out of it and act like I never did it?”
Cooper nodded once. “Yep. Exactly.”
Exactly the distraction he needed. “Perfect.” Holt grinned. “I’m on it.”
“Thanks, man.” Cooper stood and tugged on his suit jacket. “It means a lot to me, and him, even if you’ll never get the credit.”
“I—” He shrugged, taking a second to gather his thoughts because an intense pain in his head cut off his train of thought. “I don’t need any credit.”
“Good.” Cooper hesitated, running his hand through his light brown hair. “How have you been since starting here? Adjusting okay to civilian life?”
Holt glanced up. Hell no. “Uh…”
“I know your story. It’s the story we all have.” Cooper shrugged. “But yours is a little worse. I know it’s been tough for you to adjust to the changes you’ve been forced to accept.”
What all did he know? Holt certainly hadn’t told him shit. “My struggles are no different than anyone else’s.”
“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.” Cooper eyed Holt. “I saw on your physical report that you were having a few symptoms from the IED attack. Do you still suffer from headaches? Or episodes where you can’t think properly?”
