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6
James
I pull away, confused and frustrated in myself for taking that leap. She stands there, looking like every one of my fantasies, with her loose blonde hair and blue eyes full of desire. They tell me it was the right move. Without warning, without thinking about the consequences, I lower my mouth to hers again, kissing her with need, and want, and a promise of what could be.
Her moan is the answer I need, the permission to continue, and I do. I claim her the only way I can at the moment. Our lips and tongue battle with each other as we give way to feelings that we both have kept bottled inside. I reluctantly pull back and look at her. Her smile confirming that we are on the same page. “Something starting here. You good with this?”
She nods, and that one movement, that one acknowledgement, releases all the frustration I feel. Holly is not a one and done woman, and I don’t want that with her. I want it all. I want to see where this will lead to and how we will get there.
“Good. It’s getting late and I have to be up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the ranch. Let’s call it a night, but text me when you get home.” I hate to end the night after that kiss, but I don’t want to rush with her.
“James, I don’t know what to think.” Her vulnerability shows in her voice, and I don’t want her to feel that way.
“I don’t regret anything. Do you?” She shakes her head no. “Then all is good now and going forward.”
“Okay,” she answers before getting in to her car and cranking over the key. The engine doesn’t crank over, just a clicking sound as she tries again. She pops the hood at my request, and I pull the jumper cables from the toolbox in my truck bed.
After a few failed attempts, I gather the cables and put them back in my truck. It’s too late to get a wrecker or take it to the mechanic shop. “Grab your stuff, Holls. I’ll drop you off at your place. It’s too late to do anything tonight.”
The drive to her apartment is quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. I don’t want her to overthink what just happened between us. I want to give her assurance that we are on the right path. Reaching my hand over the console, I place my hand over hers that rest on her thigh, and thread my fingers with hers.
I park in front of her apartment, in her normal spot, and turn off the truck. Turning in the seat to face her, she does the same, our hands never separating. I’ve never been the hand holding type, but this with her feels right. “No doubts,” I state, letting her know where I stand.
“No doubts,” she repeats.
I give her hand a quick squeeze. “Let me walk you up.” She nods and I hop out of the truck and walk to her side. Opening her door, I hold out my hand and gather her things again. She steps down, closes the truck door, and I follow her to the front door. Dani’s car is not in her parking space, so I know Holly has the apartment to herself.
She unlocks the door and turns to face me. “Thanks for tonight.” The smile on her face is one of pure joy, one that I hope to put on her face many times to come.
“You’re welcome. It’s a night I won’t forget.” My words are true, not some lame pickup line. I never thought I would take the leap, but I don’t regret it one bit.
Before I leave, I need one more taste. I take a step forward and she leans against the doorjamb. I take her lips in another kiss. Her body responds to mine, and it makes it damn near impossible not to want to take her to her room, spread her on her bed and finish what we started.
We both pull away, taking a moment to fill our lungs. “I should go. I don’t want to go. But I need to back away before we go too far too soon.”
She nods and slips inside her apartment. I wait to hear her door lock and then make my way back to the truck. The entire drive home, I can’t stop the smile that pulls at my lips.
“James,” Ellie calls out from behind my bedroom door.
“Yeah,” I grumble as I wipe the sleep from my eyes. It surprised me to see her at my place last night when I got home. I thought she was staying at a friend’s house for the night, and when I asked her about it, she said she changed her mind and didn’t want to go home.
I understood her not wanting to go home, hence why I gave her a key to my place. The minute I had the opportunity to move out, I took it. I just wish I could have taken Ellie with me as well. But she was too young.
“I made eggs if you want some. I know you have to leave soon, so I can wrap them in a burrito, if you want.”
I grab my cell phone from the nightstand and see that it’s a few minutes before five, the time that I set my alarm for. “Thanks, E. A burrito sounds good with some cheese.”
“Got it,” she calls out and I listen to her walk down the hallway.
I never asked her to get up when I do and make me breakfast, or to have dinner on the table on the nights she stays over. Every time I talk to her about it, she breaks my heart with her reasoning. She always says that she does these things to thank me for helping her out, that she wants to give back to me for what I have given her. She doesn’t want to make me mad for not be appreciative.
All her reasoning’s stem from our mother and her parenting style. Growing up, we were told that we should be grateful that she put food on the table, that we had clothes on our back, and that there was a roof over our head. It didn’t matter that the food was a case of ramen, that the clothes were washed out hand-me-downs from the second-hand stores, or that the leaky roof over our head never had heat or AC. We were taught to show her our gratitude, or what we needed to survive was taken away.
We lived like kings for the first few days after her disability check came. But the monthly money that they gave her dried up real quick when she had to support her habits. It didn’t matter that she had two mouths to feed, clothe, or take care of.
I climb out of bed and head to the shower with hopes to wash away the memories of my mother.
Once dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, I grab my flannel and head out to the kitchen. Ellie has two breakfast burritos wrapped in foil on the counter for me. “You didn’t have to do this, sis,” I tell her as I grab them and the travel coffee she made from the counter.
