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My eyes roll at that. Because if anyone is sexy, it’s Holden. I’m just…not that hot compared to him. All eyes swivel to wherever he is, he’s like a beacon of light. I just happen to be so lucky to have caught his eye.
Don’t know how or why, but I’m not gonna question it. Just gonna roll with it.
I manage my way through work, dealing with a gloomy Devon. He keeps staring at his reflection in the windows, examining his half-shaved mustache. I accidentally told him to just shave it all off at one point, and he snapped at me, the screwdriver in his hand wielded like a weapon.
“I grew this from scratch. Like hell I’m giving it up now,” he hissed.
I let it go. Didn’t want to die just yet. I had so much I still wanted to do…with Holden.
When it is time for the twilight beach party, I walk out of the apartment complex, my chest prickling from the warm night air. To be honest, I feel a bit like Burt Reynolds with this mustache and this floral shirt. Kind of feel ridiculous and weirdly sexy.
As I move down the beach, I see people dressed up like Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Cyndi Lauper. The rest are just dressed in generic eighties clothes, most wearing little to nothing at all. Fuck, the eighties were a mess. Why does everyone look like they’re fifty years old? It’s the hair, I think, and that eyeshadow.
And then my eyes land on Holden who is standing next to a few people, his head thrown back, his arms swinging around as he speaks.
He’s magical. Ethereal. And all while dressed in nothing but a pair of tiny red shorts.
That ass on display.
I want to motorboat it—just stick my face between those cheeks and blow raspberries. Not that he’d let me. I tried it once and he just stared at me in confusion. Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna do it again. And again. I want to live in his ass.
Moving up to him, I slide my hands around his waist, letting my fingers slip under the waistband of his ridiculous, barely existent outfit.
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask, letting my lips skirt over the shell of his ear.
“Freddie Mercury. I even glued on a mustache to match him. Although I’m debating offering it to poor Devon. His really is pathetic.”
“He tried to fix it and now he looks like Charlie Chaplin.”
“He does,” Holden says with a laugh as I lean my chin on his shoulder and meet the stares of the people surrounding us. Polly meets my gaze and smiles gently at me. She’s been so excited to see the progression of our relationship. She’s been rooting for us from the sidelines.
“Didn’t ever think I’d see Holden tied down,” Cade speaks up suddenly, shifting on his feet, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Well, good. Don’t want those hands anywhere near Holden anymore. Want them very far away.
Holden’s fingers thread through mine. He turns his face a little and our lips brush. Just a hint of a kiss, but it’s enough. It makes my heart rate pick up and my lungs constrict.
Everyone else is instantly forgotten. In this moment, it is just Holden and me, our gazes locked, our breathing synced. A throat clears harshly, pulling us out of the moment. Probably Cade, trying to ruin the moment. Jealousy is a funny thing.
“Well, you guys want a drink?” Polly asks, and I glance up and see Cade moving away from the group.
A part of me feels bad for him for losing someone so special. But Holden has reassured me that it was never serious between them, that what they had was casual and there had been no expectations. It makes me realize that what we have is so much more, that this thing between us isdifferent.
“I’ll have a beer,” I say, and Holden huffs.
“No, let me make you something. This is a party. You can’t drink plain old beer.” Obviously, he’s never been to South Dakota, but before I can respond, he moves away from me and toward the makeshift bar on the sand.
My eyes follow him,that ass,until Devon pulls my gaze away.
“You okay?” I ask my boss, who looks a little forlorn. Devon mutters something under his breath, his mustache twitching, and I bite back a smile.
“Molly’s here with someone else.”
He looks so damn glum that my heart pinches for him. I know how that feels. Been there, done that, and don’t wanna do it again.
“Maybe I should show her who’s boss,” he says and then flexes his muscles, staring at them pitifully. “I don’t think she’s that impressed with my guns though.”
I eye his muscles and then reach out and poke one. My finger bounces off of the mound of muscle and Devon glares at me.
“Why did you do that?” he asks, and I shrug because I don’t know what compelled me. I’ve lost my marbles. Need help finding them.
