Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,67
think back to the things he said about Kendra. And how his work always comes first and he doesn’t have room in his life for a relationship.
“Why did you ask me to stay?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” he says. “You’re strong. You hold your own. You’re gorgeous and intelligent, and I enjoy talking to you. And it probably didn’t hurt that you live a thousand miles away.”
Yet here I am, like a stupid girl, pining for him in my own quiet way.
So foolish.
“I need to go, Sienna,” I say quickly.
She must read my tone because she sighs. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to say it once more—I’m here if you need me. You can call me at any time. You can text me. Or email. Or send a smoke signal, but I don’t really know how to read those.”
I grin. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“It’s what friends do.” She pauses to see if I’ll respond, but I don’t. “Bye, Blaire.”
“Goodbye.”
I hold the phone in my hand and look at the water. It ripples back and forth with a levity that I wish I could absorb.
“Don’t get yourself all messed up,” I whisper. “You’re a grown woman. You’re capable of enjoying this week and going home and resuming your life in Chicago. You are in control.”
Saying it aloud helps.
I turn to pick up my computer to go inside when my phone buzzes in my hand. I look down.
Holt: Want to do something fun tonight?
Holt’s words are printed across the screen.
My heartbeat quickens as I type out a response.
Me: Depends on how you define fun.
Holt: I might have tickets to the Kelvin McCoy concert.
I gasp.
Me: You do not.
Holt: I might.
Me: I might be jealous!
Holt: I won’t be out of the office in time to see the opening acts. But if you want to see the headliner, I’d love to take you.
Me: Are you sure?
Holt: Yes or no, Blaire.
Me: YES
I dance around the chair in a very un-me-like move. I’ve never been to a concert before, and if there is one band I’d like to see, it’s Kelvin McCoy.
Holt: Great. I will pick you up around eight. If you want to see the openers, my cousin Larissa would be happy to let you go with her and I could meet you at the stadium later.
Me: I’m happy just to see Kelvin McCoy!
Holt: … with me. You’re happy to see Kelvin McCoy with me. Right?
Me: Yes, with you. But Kelvin McCoy!
Holt: I heard he’s a dick in real life.
Me: Don’t ruin my vision.
Holt: Be ready at eight.
Me: I will. Thank you!
Holt: You’re very welcome.
I grab my computer and race to the shower.
Twenty-Four
Blaire
Berridge Stadium is boisterous.
Throngs of people are packed into the baseball stadium. Chords of music play intermittently over the speakers set up on either side of the stage in the outfield. A giant screen, black for the time being, is stretched out behind the platform that Kelvin McCoy will take in a matter of minutes.
Holt leads me down the aisle toward a baseball field that’s been turned into a country music concert. I dodge elbows from inebriated attendees and dirty looks from women who see Holt first, only to realize that I’m right behind him.
He looks and smells incredible. How a man can look this good after working for twelve hours—or more—is beyond me.
His ass fills out the back of his tan dress pants. Broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his blue and white striped shirt. The collar is undone, and his tie is missing, and I can’t imagine how women get any work done around him all day.
I’m watching him and not where I’m going when a foot juts out in front of me from the side. The edge of my heel catches on it, and I plummet forward.
“Ah,” I squeak as I slam into Holt’s back.
He turns, surprised, and quickly wraps one arm around me.
I look up to find him searching the area around me.
“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
His eyes find mine, and he grins. “Well, pay attention before I get into a fight.”
My skin burns with the intensity of his gaze. It’s almost electric tonight.
Our conversation on the way over was friendly and fun. He gave me crap about my love for Kelvin McCoy and Beau McCrae, a country music singer who’d just finished his set. I teased him about being jealous. Despite the airy banter, something was different.
I felt it. I think Holt did too.
My brain told me it was