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The bell went again—even longer and more persistent than the last time. Clearly, Deb wasn’t going away. Instead, she was leaning on the bell.
Holly sighed and extricated herself from the depths of the closet and, irritation building, pasted on a long-suffering smile as she stalked to the door and jerked it open.
“What now? I’ve packed—” Her voice died.
It wasn’t Deb. It was Lukas.
Clad in faded jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt, his jaw freshly shaved and a lock of sun-tipped hair drifting over his forehead, Lukas Antonides looked crisp and casual, and as drop-dead gorgeous as a Greek god.
Holly looked—and felt—like a warmed-over stew of irritation and exhaustion. “I told you I couldn’t go out. Don’t tell me you didn’t get the message.”
“I got your message.”
And didn’t pay any attention, apparently, because he walked straight past her into the chaos that was her living room.
Holly didn’t have the strength to deal with him and the rest of her life. “Lukas! I said no. I have work to do!”
“Yeah. You’re moving. In August, you said.”
“Tuesday.”
“What?” He stared at her.
“I sold the condo. And I have to be out by Tuesday.”
Now Lukas’s brows really did shoot up. “Tuesday? As in three days—” she could see him doing a quick mental calculation “—three days from now?”
“Not even.” Holly glanced at her watch. “Sixty-one hours and thirty-two minutes from now. That’s when we close.”
“That’s crazy. Doesn’t make sense. No one does that.”
“Fraser Holcomb does.”
“Fraser Holcomb? The Fraser Holcomb?” So Lukas had heard of the hotshot young film director. Holly hadn’t. She wasn’t a big film buff.
“The very one.” She followed Lukas back into the living room where stacks of too much stuff and too few boxes covered every surface. “I told you some location scout came and looked at the place.”
Lukas waved a hand in the direction of Manhattan. “He liked what he saw?”
“Seems he did.” Which was something of an understatement. Amber the Realtor had called her Friday afternoon and squealed, “He loved it! He thinks it’s perfect!”
Holly hadn’t believed her. It was too preposterous. It still felt preposterous even though she now had it in writing. “He made a cash offer yesterday morning. I told Amber I didn’t have anyplace to go. She told him, and he said, ‘She can rent a place until August for a hundred thousand dollars, can’t she?’” She swallowed. “He offered me an extra hundred grand above the asking price for immediate occupancy.”
Lukas whistled silently.
Holly let out a ragged breath. “I said yes. Amber would have killed me if I hadn’t. And it really was too good to pass up,” she admitted. “But now I’m panicking. I need to get packed up. Find a storage facility.” She shook her head. “So I really can’t...”
Lukas looked around for just a moment, taking it all in, then looked back at her. “Where do you want me to start?”
Holly goggled at him. “What? No! You don’t have to do anything! I was just trying to explain why I can’t—”
“I understand, but it’s obvious you can’t do this all yourself. You were trying to do it all yourself, weren’t you?” His gaze was mildly accusing.
“It’s my condo. My life.”
“And since Matt died you don’t count on anyone.”
She flinched at his perception. “That’s right,” she said stubbornly.
“How’s that working for you?” He said it gently, making Holly sigh in recognition of how badly it was working.
“I should hire a mover.”
“No. You’ve got me.”
The mulish look on his face said arguing was going to get her nowhere, and that she would be wasting precious time trying to change his mind. She shrugged. “Fine. Start boxing.” She pointed toward the piles of stuff she’d hauled out of the closet, then she realized the flaw in the plan. “I don’t have enough boxes.”
“I do.”
She frowned. “You?”
But he was digging his cell phone out of his pocket as he spoke. “Who just moved in?” he reminded her. “And we’ve got all that art we’ve just uncrated.”
“Oh!” She actually felt a stab of relief. “Yes, of course.”
