Page 32 of Holly Ever After

A wave of laughter sweeps through the bar, leaving Jeff and Ace fumbling for a retort.

“She told you, boys,” someone roars.

Holly grins, taking a satisfied sip of her beer.

Jesus Christ, I need to get her home.

I scrub a hand over my face, down the rest of my beer, and make my way through the crowd. She doesn't notice me until I'm right behind her.

Leaning close, I whisper, “Easy there, champ. You haven't even been back an entire month yet and you're already inciting a riot.”

I feel her shiver, her back briefly pressing against me. When she turns around, her eyes are a little glossy. Not drunk, but well on her way.

“What?” she says, batting those long lashes at me. “You think you could use some lessons too?”

I ignore that comment. “You said you were going to the café.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes coffee just doesn't cut it.”

Someone at the bar shouts, “Hey Holly, why don't you read us some of the stuff you’re working on?”

She's got bigger balls than most of the men in this place. I have no doubt she's about to open that laptop and do it. My gut tightens at the thought. I'm not about to let her read a steamy scene to a room full of booze-fueled guys—and some very interested women.

Before she can even lift the screen, I reach over and snap her laptop shut. A chorus of boos erupts around us, and she gives me a look so icy I almost expect frost to form on my shirt.

“Scrooge,” she mutters, glaring at me.

I stand my ground. Let them boo all they want. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, even in the name of entertainment.

Annoyed, she slaps my hand away and fumbles to open the laptop again. “I'm reading it, Sean.”

“Like hell you are. I'm taking you home.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

Suit yourself.

So I do the only thing I can think of to stop her. I grab the laptop from the counter, tuck it under my arm, and stride out of the bar. I hear her loud objections as she slides off the stool and stomps after me.

I'm fuming now, too, but this is the most animated I’ve seen her all week.

Give me all you’ve got, Squirt. Let me see that fight.

Once outside, I open the back of my truck and lock her laptop securely inside. She’s right behind me, cursing me out, calling me afucking barbarianand everything else under the sun.

She reaches me just as I turn, her body pressed against mine in her haste. I wrap an arm around her waist to steady her, spin her around and pin her to the side of the truck. Her breath escapes in a startled whoosh, and the falling snow catches in her ebony hair and sticks to her lashes.

“Listen to me. I'll be damned if I let you read a fucking sex scene to a bar full of horny men.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes flash, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Who the hell do you think you are, dictating what I can or can't do?”

“I think I'm the guy who's been busting his ass fixing your house while you've been sulking.”

“Sulking? Are you kidding me?”

“Then what would you call it?”

She huffs, indignant. “None of your business.”

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