Page 26 of Cakewalk

“Hey, you,” he said, flexing his hands as a reminder to keep them to himself.

“Ahhh!” she shrieked, turning around and clutching her chest. A bright smile spread across her face as she drank him in, making him feel all warm and fuzzy. It seemed impossible to him that she was doing this to him, in a way only one other woman had before, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for her. There was something special about Gigi Hawthorne, and whatever it was, he was damn glad it was being discovered in his kitchen. She reached for her phone and turned down the music before looking back up at him. “Are you just now heading out for your run? I figured you had left already.”

“Got a bit of a late start this morning,” he said. “What are you up to?”

“I chopped all the veggies last night, so I just need to finished prepping the bird and get it into the roasting pan and slide that into the oven. Then I can start on the sides. If all goes as planned, dinner should be around two-ish.”

“Bird? Dinner?” Holden asked, his head starting to spin. She wasn’t…

“It’s Thanksgiving.”

Thanksgiving.

It was like a switch flipped inside him. Holden clutched onto the counter as he looked around him, taking in everything she had laid out. He’d been so busy staring at her ass when he walked into the room, he hadn’t noticed what she was surrounded by. Sure enough, a small turkey sat resting in a roasting pan on the butcher block. It looked like it had been slathered in butter mixed with herbs. Three distinct kitchen bowls sat next to the pan, filled with chopped carrots and celery, potatoes, and onion. Over on the counter by the cookbook she’d been reading was a bag of what appeared to be stale bread chunks for stuffing and a handful of sweet potatoes. He bet that if he looked in the fridge, he’d find she’d made a cake for dessert.

He could feel his blood start to boil as his eyes flicked between the items. Gigi was making Thanksgiving. What the fuck had given her that idea? Clenching his fists, he told himself to calm down. But the waves of rage that were rising inside were coming faster, and it didn’t matter the reason. This was not happening in his house. How could she do this? How could she disrespect him in such a way and flaunt this holiday in his face? Nothing good came from this day, from this meal.

“Thanksgiving,” he repeated, his teeth gritted. The word tasted vile in his mouth, leaving an aftertaste he was almost afraid he’d never get out. He swallowed hard, trying to replace that taste with something—anything—else, but he couldn’t. The more he looked at the items on the counter, the angrier he got. They were just potatoes, for God’s sake, but they taunted him just the same.

“I have all the traditional fixins. Roast turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, rolls, cranberry sauce, and of course, green bean casserole!”

Her voice was sweet, and the glow on her face was something that moments ago he would have done almost anything to see, but now, it only served to set him off more. He could feel something inside him snap, and all that rage he was trying to tamp down erupted from his veins.

“What the actual fuck.” His palms came down hard on the butcher block. The pan and bowls rattled, their contents shifting from the disturbance.

“What?” she asked, a terrified look in her eyes.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I just…I just thought…” she squeaked, her voice trembling. He could see the fear in her as she cowered away from him, but there was no stopping him now.

“You just thought what?”

* * *

Gigi

“Holden, I…” Gigi trailed off, too afraid to finish the sentence.

The look in his eye was one she knew all too well. Nothing good ever came from that look.

“It’s just Thanksgiving,” she began again, fighting back the tears she could feel coming. She had no idea what she had done to upset him like this. But the man standing before her was not the Holden she had come to know. “I asked you last week if you’d want to celebrate, and you said yes.”

“I said no such thing! I don’t do Thanksgiving!” he hollered in response. His face was hard as he glowered at her.

“But…but…last week, we were up in the loft, I asked you—”

“You did not ask me about this. I would not have told you this was okay.”

“Holden, I swear. I would not have done this if you hadn’t agreed. If you changed your mind, then we don’t have to—”

BANG!

Holden slammed his fist down on the butcher block, making it rattle again. Some of the chopped vegetables tumbled out of their bowls onto the floor, but Gigi didn’t dare try to pick them up. She was too afraid to move. Too afraid of where that fist was going to be aimed next.

A deep growl from Holden made the hair on Gigi’s arms stand on edge, her gaze returning to his face. His hands were now fisted in his hair, as if he were considering ripping it from his scalp. A vein bulged over his left eye, making her wonder if at any moment he would turn green and quadruple in size.

“I can’t…I can’t believe this,” he growled, letting go of his hair and throwing his arms out to the sides. Gigi flinched at the motion, looking around her trying to figure out the best way out of the kitchen.