Unwrapping Holly(37)

But there was more. She’d given notice at her apartment in Houston. She had a sealed envelope with proof she was moving back to Haven at the risk of having no place to live—on the promise that Cole wanted her in his bed every night. If he still wanted her.

“What do you think, Holly?”

Holly blinked, realizing she wasn’t paying attention. What had Rachel said? Something about a town skating party.

“When is it?” Holly asked.

“Tomorrow night,” her mother inserted. “Your father and I will be gone for a little romantic dinner we’ve planned. It would be great if you kids could go out together. It’s always quite a lovely event, dear. You’d enjoy it.”

Holly smiled to herself, aware they’d be celebrating the sale of the house despite their arrangements to stay an extra month but allowing renovations to begin. The idea of her parents traveling and enjoying life had grown on her, once she’d set aside her own selfish need for stability. A house wasn’t the basis for happiness. It was the people inside.

“It would be great if you could go,” Rachel chimed in, peeling away the plastic wrapper on a candy cane. “I mean, I know you have that deadline and all, but it would be nice to have you along.”

Holly sighed regretfully. “I need to stay focused right now, so I can be free the week of Christmas and enjoy you guys.”

The phone rang and her mother crossed the kitchen to answer it and then returned almost instantly.

“Holly,” she said. “It’s for you.”

Holly frowned, her heart lurching at the discomfort she noted on her mother’s face. Holly crossed to her mother’s side and reached for the phone, but Margaret held it tight, covering the receiver with her palm. Margaret eyed Rachel over Holly’s shoulder. “Give us a minute, honey.”

Rachel didn’t ask questions. They all knew when to scoot, and when Mom wanted time alone with one of them, the others made a fast exit. Of course, Holly would have to deal with Rachel’s questions later—much later, she hoped.

“What is it, Mom?” Holly asked.

“It’s Abe Wiley. Is there anything I should know?”

She shook her head, bit her lip. Her nerves jangled wildly. Her cell was at the cottage. But why would Abe call her here?

“It’s personal, Mom. Nothing to do with the house.” Her mother didn’t look satisfied, and judging from the way she clutched the phone, Holly wasn’t getting it without offering up some answers. “I’ve been seeing his brother. That’s why the house thing hit me so hard. I thought he knew who I was. I thought—” Holly touched her temples. “Mom. Something could be wrong. Abe wouldn’t call me here if there wasn’t.”

Her mother handed her the phone. “We’ll talk later.”

Holly nodded and slid the phone to her ear. “Abe?”

“Holly,” he said. “Cole had a run-in with that kid who was harassing Jacob. He’s in jail, and Jacob and I are in Manchester. We’re on our way, but can you—”

“I’m on my way,” Holly said, handing her mom the phone. “I have to go.” Her mother called after her, but Holly kept going. Cole needed her.





TEN MINUTES LATER, HOLLY SLAMMED her car door shut outside the sheriff ’s office and rushed to the door. She stepped inside, shivering in nothing but a pink sweater and jeans, and found herself staring straight into Cole’s shocked expression.

“Holly?”

Her teeth chattered, the coldness seeming to reach to her bones. Or was that emotion? Either way, she couldn’t control the shaking.

“I rushed over. I—”

“Good Lord, woman,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and then pulling it around her shoulders, rescuing her even as she tried to rescue him and, damn, it felt good. “Where is your coat?”

His coat swallowed her whole, but it smelled like him—spicy, masculine, perfect. She didn’t ever want to take it off.

“I didn’t think to grab it,” she said. He still held the coat lapels, his warmth encasing her with courage. The shivers started to subside. “I heard you were in jail. It’s that guy that Jacob had issues with, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He was roughing up his wife again. I grabbed the guy and hung him up on a coatrack to wait for the sheriff to arrive.”

Holly shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. Surely she didn’t hear that right. “What do you mean, hung him on a coatrack?”

Cole never got the chance to answer. Sheriff Jack, who stood at least six foot three with broad, muscular shoulders, walked into the lobby and did it for him. “Stuck his belt over the notch, just like you would a coat.” He tossed some paperwork on the desk, and Cole let go of the coat.