Page 30 of Anchored

“Let me know if you need any help getting that on, Holtie!” Lottie hollers after us.

Holt doesn’t stop until we’re both in a fitting room and he yanks the ancient drape across the opening. He slams the hangers onto the metal hook by the mirror and drops his chin to his chest. I can’t help but giggle at his panic.

“You okay there, my hunky monkey?” I coo.

Holt raises his head, eyes twinkling again. “Save me from that woman.”

I give him my best sultry smile—and to be honest, it’s probably not so great since I haven’t used it in awhile—and grab the bottom hem of his T-shirt. “Yes, sir.”

I pull the material up and over his head, tossing it to the ground. All those muscles I keep seeing are just a measly inch from my hands.

“Maple,” Holt grumbles. I’m not sure if it’s a plea or a warning.

And I don’t care.

Lifting my right hand, I trail my index finger across his chest, the muscles quivering under my touch. Then I swoop down, the bumps of his six-pack giving my finger a roller coaster ride. Holt snatches my hand and presses me up against the wall of the fitting room, his other hand in my hair and tilting my head exactly where he wants it so he can kiss me.

His lips are hard and rough and not at all hesitant like last night. His tongue plunges inside and I let him, wanting this kiss as much as he does. His body presses me into the wall and I lift my leg to hike it up and around his hip. He lets go of my hand and hooks it under my knee, pulling my hot pulsing center into an impressive erection. I whimper as I grind against him.

“How does it fit?” Lottie says from the other side of the curtain.

Holt’s mouth wrenches away, his forehead pressed to mine as we both try to silently suck in air. After a moment or two, he releases my leg and I try to stand on both feet, realizing my knees are shaking. Damn. The man just kissed the stability right out of me.

“We’ll take them,” Holt barks, grabbing both shirts off the hook and yanking the curtain aside. He pulls his own shirt over his head and I’m pretty sure it’s on backwards.

Lottie stands there with a gleam in her eye that makes me think she was standing right here the whole time, knowing exactly what we were doing. Honestly, I can’t blame her. Holt is just that hot. I have a feeling news of our kiss will spread amongst the full-time citizens of Anchor Lake before lunch.

Lottie rings up our purchases that we didn’t try on. Holt insists on paying, even though I’m the one who dragged him out here. On our way back out to the Jeep, I remember what Lottie knew about Hank.

“So if Hank wasn’t even here in Anchor Lake a year, that’s probably why I didn’t see him in the yearbook. He probably missed picture day.” I slump into the passenger seat. “I’m no closer to finding out who he is.”

Holt starts the vehicle and reaches over to squeeze my knee. “I know a way to cheer you up.”

I look over, instantly intrigued. If it’s more kisses like what went on in the fitting room, count me in. “Oh yeah?”

“We’ll break all the rules.”

My brain instantly tries to figure out the rules of kissing your fake fiancé, but Holt’s brain had gone in a different direction.

“Let’s go get ice cream at Ripple’s.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Ice cream before lunch? Who are you, Holt McGrath?”

He grins and my heart instantly lifts. Ripple’s Ice Cream Parlor is the same one that fed all of us kids way back when. As Holt pulls into a parking space on the street, I see that it’s had a paint job and some updated landscaping done, but largely looks the same. We head inside and the menu board hanging on the wall is exactly the same as I remember. Time doesn’t seem to work the same way here in Anchor Lake.

“Want to share a banana split?” Holt rubs his hands together like a little kid. I wholeheartedly agree since that’s what Ripple’s is known for.

We sit down at a pink-and-white checkered booth that’s cracked so many times over the years I’m in danger of roughing up my bare thighs. Holt waits not so patiently for me to have a seat and pick up my spoon before he dives in. No words are spoken, just the occasional moan and grunt as we go back for bigger and drippier bites. Pretty soon we hit the bottom and both of us sit back with a groan.

“Oh. My. Savasana. That was incredible!”

Holt pats his belly, which is still in the shape of washboard abs. “I might never eat again.” He sits forward suddenly and crooks his finger at me.

I sit forward, wondering if it would be uncouth to unbutton my jean shorts. “Huh?”

“You got something…” Holt points a finger at the side of his own mouth. I lift my hand to rub away what’s most likely a drip of caramel sauce, but he beats me to it, hooking his hand around my neck and pulling me in for a kiss across the table. His tongue swipes up the caramel before he kisses me gently. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, making me forget all about how full I am. He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes while he smiles.

“Got it,” he whispers.

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