Page 24 of Wrapped in Hope
Chapter 9
I’m rushingaround my apartment throwing my roommate’s dirty laundry into her room. It’s Saturday and she usually spends the day at the library, so I know she won’t be home any time soon to catch the mental breakdown I’m about to have.
There is a knock on the door and I freeze out of fear. No, is it time already? I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to talk about that day. I don’t want to feel it.
The knocking sounds again and finally I snap out of my trance and move to answer the door.
Holden’s standing on the other side wearing a pair of black motorcycle boots, fitted jeans, and a black t-shirt that stretches over his broad chest and biceps. His five o’clock shadow has grown longer since last night, and his jet black hair is styled neatly. He looks sexy as hell with his blue-green eyes boring into mine with his jaw cocked. Did he look this good earlier? I think back, remembering not looking directly at him.
After a long moment, he gives me a sexy grin. “Can I come in?”
I swallow down my fear as I shake my head clear of the thoughts I shouldn’t even be having. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous.” I open the door wider for him to walk through.
He steps into my tiny apartment, making it feel even smaller with his height, and he turns to look back at me. “Where would you like to sit?”
“Oh, the couch is fine.” I find myself knotting my fingers together. “Can I get you anything?”
He quickly shakes his head as he sits down on the end of the sofa. I follow behind him, sitting on the opposite end. My stomach is doing flips, my heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. I have no idea where to start.
“Why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been doing these last couple of years?”
I look up at him, thankful he’s trying to break the ice. “Um, just school really.”
“What are you studying?” He looks just as nervous as I am. He’s not looking directly at me, opting to study the room we’re in instead.
“Business management. I plan on going to work with my dad when I graduate. What about you? Are you still working at the shop?”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s what I love and it brings in the money,” he answers, referring to the motorcycle shop he owns.
“It must be doing well based on that brand new Jeep out there,” I joke.
He laughs. “Yeah, I figured I was getting a little too old to be riding the motorcycle year round.”
I smile, remembering sitting in my bedroom and hearing his loud Harley turning onto our street in the dead of winter.
* * *
I’m sitting on my bed, reading over my history book when I hear the loud rumble of Holden’s motorcycle.
I smile to myself while leaning up to look out the window. I can already imagine my mom bitching about having to hear his loud bike even in the winter.
Just like I knew he would, his bike pulls into the drive as the garage door opens automatically. He pulls inside, cuts the engine, and puts the kickstand down. It’s quiet once again.
I sit back and pick up my book, but curiosity rushes over me. I lean back up and move the curtain to the side again.
The garage door is still open as he stands in front of the heater to remove his leather jacket and grease stained shirt — Jane has a fit when he comes inside covered in grease and oil.
I know I shouldn’t be watching, but his body is mystifying. His biceps bulge as he pulls the shirt over his head and reaches for another. After pulling on the fresh shirt, he hits the button for the garage door. As it starts falling, I see him unfasten his belt and push his jeans down his muscular thighs. The door closes completely, leaving my body heated and confused.
* * *
Thinkingabout that memory causes this wave of heat to rush over me. I feel my face heat up as a tingle swirls around inside my lower belly.
“Is there anything else you want to talk about before we get into talking about that day?”
His question pulls me from my memory, and causes me to jump with surprise.
My eyes fall to my hands that are twisting into knots again. I’m embarrassed because I’ve been caught thinking about something I shouldn’t, but I’m also blanketed with sadness when I remember the reason he’s here to begin with. “What is it that you want me to tell you? Just the accident, or the whole weekend?”