Page 13 of Snow Much Plowing
“Would you rather I make you sit?” he asks, and I slowly lower myself onto the couch.
“Traitor,” I mutter to Snowball. Why is he hanging out with Hollis like they're best friends?
“He’s a good dog.” Hollis drops to one knee in front of me. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he starts to remove my boots from my feet. Then he puts my fluffy slippers back on them.
“I know he’s a good dog, but he should have bitten you.”
“Why would he do that?” Hollis takes my boots to the front door before he removes his suit jacket. Once it’s off, he starts to roll up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. With each inch, it reveals more and more ink.
Where the hell did he even come from? There’s no way his fancy sports car was driving in this weather. Besides, I would have seen it. He’s probably got some kind of invisible shield on it like Batman.
“Because you’re a stranger.” Duh. Snowball barks at the wind and tries to bite it sometimes when it blows too hard. But then he lets a whole man come in the house? You’d think Snowball knew him, but that can't be the case. Hollis has never been here before.
“Am I though?” He winks at me. What the hell does that mean? “I brought dinner, but something smells divine.”
“That’s my steak stew and sourdough.” I stand, and when I realize I’m about to go make him a bowl, I change my mind. “But you can’t have any.” There, I told him. I smirk internally. I have to take any sort of little win that I can because my defenses are crap when this man is involved.
“All right, I’d rather eat you anyway.”
"Wait.” I put my hands out to stop him when he steps toward me. My body heats with desire at the thought of him doing exactly what he suggests. The image of Hollis' face buried between my thighs makes my knees weak. “I’ll make you a bowl.”
“You cooked. So you’ll sit, and I’ll make us both a bowl.” He places his hand on my back, guiding me toward the kitchen as if this is his home.
I have a dining room, but I never use it. It's more for crafts and projects. I like to sit at the table in the kitchen because the windows face the backyard. Snowball stays in the living room and spreads out on the couch.
He pulls out one of the chairs for me to sit, and when I do, I’m aware that arguing with him doesn't work. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s kind of nice to have someone take care of me.
Hollis is right. He does always get what he wants. The thing is, what he wants always confuses me. Almost as much as the way he moves through my kitchen like he’s been in it before. He pulls out bowls and spoons and doesn't have to search for them. How the heck does he know where everything is?
"What's happening?" I ask as he cuts the bread.
"I'm serving us dinner."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You know that's not what I meant. This is getting out of control."
"It really is," he agrees, and that’s not what I thought he was going to say. "I'm over the cat and mouse game."
"Cat and mouse game?" He grunts a response. "That's not an answer."
He turns to face me. "You're mine, Lucy. I have given you time, and now that time is up."
I must be in some sort of alternate universe because the words coming out of his mouth make absolutely zero sense.
I just stare at him as my brain tries to catch up. He’s given me time? Yeah, he really is insane. Maybe I should call someone. My phone is still in my back pocket, but I don’t go for it. With the storm, I’m sure there are other people that need more help at the moment. It would be selfish of me to call the police or even my brother. He too sometimes has to help bail people out of trouble. I can handle Hollis. As soon as I have the thought, I know I’m lying to myself. I guess we're both insane.
“Now eat.” He places the bowl and a buttered piece of bread in front of me. When I take a bite of the stew, he leans down and kisses the top of my head. “That’s my good girl.” My eyes widen, and I have to press my thighs together. I learned recently that those words have an effect on me. “Eat it all, and then I’ll give you your treat.”
“My treat?” I ask. What the heck kind of treat do I want from him? I must be losing my mind. That is the only explanation here.
Why am I so attracted to him? Even though I should despise him, I can't help but crave him. The hardest part of sending him those photos is that I would always get so turned on. It made me feel sexy, and that is not what I’m used to. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was sexually broken until Hollis entered my life. I even contemplated the possibility of identifying as asexual. That’s when I started to dig deeper online and ended up finding out a few things about myself.
Hollis grabs the other chair, moving it so he is right next to me. "I believe it's time for us to move things forward. The pictures aren’t enough. I need more.”
The way the word need rolls off his tongue actually does sound needy. He sounds like an addict seeking his next fix. From what I’m grasping, I’m it.
“I’m sure you can get more somewhere else.” I force myself to look away from him because I don’t want to see his expression. In fact, why did I even say that? I take another bite of my food so I don’t say more. Hollis does the same, not responding to what I said.
Every second that passes, my anger intensifies. “You have nothing to say to that?” I finally snap.