Page 50 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
As always, I do the only thing I know how to do in times like these. I pace. And then I pull my phone from my coat pocket and call the first person who comes to mind.
“Hello?”
Just the sound of Holt’s low, gravelly voice on the other end of the line brings my panic down from a ten to a seven.
“I need your help,” I whisper, chewing anxiously at my lip as I begin my explanation about my car being stuck, but before I can say another word, he speaks.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice is cool and calm, providing instant relief to my tightly wound system.
Either he was nearby, or he has no regard for speed limits, because hardly five minutes pass before Holt ducks under the partially open door of the garage. I’m leaning against the cold concrete wall, chomping on a hangnail, when he slips an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss into my hair.
“Accident, huh?”
I nod, trying to wrestle back the tears welling up in my eyes. I don’t know if I’m crying because of the car, or the fact that he was so quick to rush to my rescue. But either way, he wipes my tears with his thumbs, then pulls me against his chest, smoothing my hair with his palm.
“It’s going to be okay, Eden. It’s just a little accident. Everyone is entitled to a few mistakes now and then.”
The tears are coming steadily now, which makes me feel like even more of an idiot. It’s just a little mistake, but it’s the last thing I needed right now.
“I feel so stupid,” I manage to choke out through sniffles.
He pulls me in again, letting me break down for just a moment in his arms. But I guess Holt Rossi is accepting no pity parties today, because as soon as my breaths slow down, he unhooks his keys from his belt loop, unfurling my fist to place them in my palm.
“Don’t feel stupid. It could have happened to anyone. Breathe, Eden. This is no big deal. We’ll get it fixed, okay?”
I nod, starting to believe him. “I’m supposed to be giving a speech for the kids’ clinic at the arena in . . .” I check my watch, drawing a big breath. “Fifteen minutes.”
“My car’s outside. Take it.”
My brow creases and my tears subside. “But then how will you—”
He shakes his head adamantly. “Nope. No arguing. Just do it. You’ve got kids waiting for you, and I know a repairman I can call. Give me your keys. I’ll wait here while it gets handled.”
Reluctant, I place my key ring in his big palm. “Are you sure about this?”
He gives me a firm nod, wiping the last of my tears away. “Now go inspire the hell out of those kids.”
“Th-thank you,” I sputter, a hint of a smile pulling at my lips. “I really can’t thank you enough for all of—”
Before I can finish the thought, he cuts me off with a firm, silencing kiss that warms every inch of my body. “Go wow ’em, sweetheart,” he whispers, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Okay,” I whisper back, then hurry out to his car, wondering how and why he seems to know just the right things to say to make everything seem okay.
• • •
The second I step out of the arena, I dig my phone from my pocket and dial Holt.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, how’d it go?”
“So well.” I sigh, sandwiching my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I fish his car keys from my purse. “The kids were super-sweet and attentive. I’d love to tell you about it over dinner, if you don’t have plans.”
This man was my own personal superhero today. The least I can do is feed him.
“Dinner sounds great.”
I can hear his smile through the phone, and I smile back, knowing I’ll get to see him in just a few minutes. “Perfect. I’ll order something for delivery. Chinese sound okay?”
We agree on two orders of kung pao chicken, fried rice, and egg rolls, and he waits on the line while I tap our order into an app.
“The site says it’ll be there in twenty. Meet you in the lobby?”
“Done and done,” he says. “See you soon.”
If I were driving my own car, I’d probably speed the whole way home with how eager I am to see him, but since I’ve already been in one fender bender today, I hug the right lane the whole way back to my condo.
When I pull up to the parking garage, I’m surprised to see that the garage door is already fixed and fully operational, and when I drive past my own car, the dent on the back bumper is less severe than I remember. Not saying that the car accident was a good thing, but between the minimal damage and the very sexy dinner date I’ve secured as a result of the ordeal, I feel as though things have balanced out nicely.
