Page 7 of Tangled in Vows

I bite down the many remarks that threaten to resurface and simply say, “Don’t.”

My pent-up emotions want to destroy him, but this situation needs to be handled first. Maybe I can yell at him once there isn’t a naked guy in my condo anymore. Then I can kick him out.

“Yes, ma’am.” He presses his lips together. “Any chance you have some zip ties?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Good. I want you to go back into the studio with Stormy until I get you. I just want to make sure there aren’t any other surprises waiting for us.”

My heart speeds up again at the possibility. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night. Still, images of what-ifs flash through my mind.

No, everything’s going to be okay.

It’s just a precaution.

Nothing is going to happen to Stormy or you. And Holden is going to be okay too.

“Come on.” He closes the distance between us, and Stormy lets out a sigh.

I swear, that girl is smiling.

Ridiculous.

Holden opens the door to the studio, and after a quick walkthrough, he lets a protesting Stormy down and ushers me inside. “Stay here until I tell you the coast is clear. Got it?”

Although I hate listening to him, I’m also not stupid. “Yes, sir.”

Something flashes in his eyes, but I ignore it. “The zip ties are in the junk drawer next to the fridge.”

The second the words are out of my mouth, I bite my cheek.

He might not remember how I made fun of him and his junk drawer when he first showed it to me.

But he smirks, and I know he remembers.

Of course he does.

Sometimes, it’s hard to forget.

“Holden, do you have a Sharpie?”

“Yeah, in the junk drawer in the kitchen.”

I pause and laugh. “What’s a junk drawer?”

He walks into the room, rubbing a towel through his wet hair. “You don’t know what a junk drawer is?”

I wait for him to tell me he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “No?”

“Well, prepare yourself to be amazed then.” He opens the last drawer under the counter. “Ta-da.”

I look from his pleased expression to the sea of items: markers, paper clips, rubber bands, tissues, Ziploc bags, gum, Post-its, sunscreen, coins, playing cards, labels, an old camera, and condoms. I grab a Sharpie and slam the drawer shut.

Although I’m pulled out of the memory, the warmth and affection of it lingers in my chest. Loss and pain follow, and I bury my face in Stormy’s fur until the door clicks shut.

Since she’s a traitorous girl, she whines like she’ll never see him again.

Been there, done that. Do not recommend.

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