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“I can’t,” Kit stated flatly. “I’m determined to hear her side of the story. I want to know who Holly Hamlin was before she met us.”
“Holly Hamlin was exactly the woman you see now. She doesn’t have a changing face for different men and seasons. She isn’t that kind of woman.”
Kit shrugged. “I think you’re gonna be surprised by what we uncover about the lover we’ve had living here for well over a year.”
Kemper walked upstairs and jiggled the doorknob. He knocked and then pounded on the door. “Mrs. Daniels! Holly locked us down in the basement. Holly! Are you out there?”
“Fuck,” Kit muttered, checking his pockets.
“I’ll take a wild guess. You left the key in the door.”
“Yep,” Kit replied, turning his pockets inside out.
“Super,” Kemper muttered, retrieving his cell. “Let me see if I can get a hold of Blake or Grant. See if one of them will take mercy on us and come let us out.”
Kit grunted. “Who knows, maybe your woman—you know, the one with the charming personality that never changes—will come back. We could take a gamble and wait.”
“Yeah, right,” Kemper grumbled. “We’d be sitting here until the first frost fell.”
Chapter Seven
Holly heard them coming for her. The jingle of spurs and heavy heels dropping against each wooden stair made her insides shiver. They’d made it to the first landing. They were marching up to the second floor.
She’d already bathed and shaved. She’d visited Leigh Ann, her talented esthetician, the day before, paying for a Brazilian wax since bikini season was about a month away. Now, she was glad she treated herself to the indulgence.
Life as she’d known it was about to change. She couldn’t wait to see the future unravel before her.
Even though Kit had pissed her off, particularly when he’d said she’d gone to bed with strangers night after night—since that wasn’t entirely true—she had a profound desire to move forward and overlook his current shortcomings. Kit was an alpha male. He had too many alluring qualities, and Holly couldn’t stay angry with him.
Then again
, he sort of owed her an apology.
He wouldn’t want her asking questions about his life prior to meeting her. She snickered to herself. Oh hell, she could only imagine the wrath she’d face if she went snooping around Blountville prying for data about Kit or Kemper. And an e-mail? Ha! If one of their old lovers sent her a message, the Keeslings would close down the town and find out who was ballsy enough to hit send and drop the damning e-mail.
Holly tingled all over as the footsteps became more pronounced. She felt like a bride on her wedding night. A virginal bride, if she could even picture such an image. Sure, she knew what to expect. She understood what was on the way, but she had no way to gauge the discomfort she’d endure prior to finding new pleasures.
Yes, she felt the angst of that virginal bride.
She checked the mirror and noted her choice of short denim cut-offs and a low-cut fitted top. Hmm, one thing about it, candy-apple red was her color. She was hardly the kind of woman a man expected to see draped in snow white.
A heavy knock fell upon the door. They were there. Trouble had arrived right on time. Nothing would stand between them now. This was the beginning of something quite carnal, delectable in every way. It was a new day in the Keesling house and a new hour in their relationship.
Like two brutes coming to secure their criminal, Kit and Kemper stood inside her doorway—well, actually the room belonged to Kemper—with their arms crossed over thick chests.
“Well,” she drawled flippantly, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. “What took you two so long?”
Kit snarled.
“Oh my,” she said. “You look just plain mean.”
“And you try to find ways to waste my time,” Kit said, stalking her. “Did it ever occur to you that I can’t spend all day locked in the basement?”
“Ah shucks, hon,” she hummed. “I thought you might need a break from chasing heifers today.”
“I still have one in my sights,” he grumbled, probably aware of how his cow comparison would piss her off.
“You’re such a charming little fellow. Aren’t you?”
