Page 63 of Holly Ever After

“What’s this I hear about you and Sean getting into a public argument? Again, Holly? Seriously? Have you both not grown out of this by now?” My mother continues to scold. She’s been rambling on for so long, I’m holding the phone away from my ear and mumbling my agreement every time she takes a breath.

Sean saunters out of the bathroom, hair dripping and covered in nothing but one of my much-too-small towels. It’s riding dangerously low, and I resist the urge to tug it up or maybe even down.

Noticing my expression, he arches a brow at me before leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

Those arms.

My body is suddenly tingling, the feeling of his hands lingering on my skin like sunburn. But the only thing to soothe the burn is his touch. I keep dipping my fingers in the honey pot, never quite getting my fill. I’m afraid I never will.

I pull the phone away again, covering the speaker so my mother won’t hear. “This is your fault.” And I mean it in more ways than one.

He points at his chest. “My fault? What have I done now?”

“You kidnapped me and dragged me back into the bar the other night, and now apparently the entire town is talking about it.”

“I didn’t even hear it from my own daughter,” my mother continues, but I can tell she’s more nosy than angry.

“I promise I'm practicing my deep breathing exercises to avoid future Sean-related incidents in public.” I cover the phone's microphone and whisper-hiss to Sean, “Go put some clothes on before you get me into more trouble!”

He shrugs innocently. “If I had known our every interaction was going to be reported to the family newsletter, I might've behaved differently.”

“Just...Shoo!” I gesture towards the bedroom.

Over the phone, I can hear my mom's suspicious tone. “Holly? What was that? What's going on?”

I clear my throat, aiming for nonchalance. “Oh, you know, just talking to the...TV. I've named him Sean. Very talkative, this TV.”

“Naming inanimate objects now? Oh honey, we need to get you out more.” She tuts in concern.

“That's what I keep saying, but apparently blizzards and Sean Colsons are out to ruin my life.”

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” My mother’s voice is now laced with concern. “That storm is a doozy, and being cooped up alone can’t be good for your sanity. Especially if you're naming your electronics.”

“Mom, I promise I’m fine. Just cabin fever setting in. Maybe a bit too much wine. And a lot of old movies.”

And so much sex.

Sean emerges from the bedroom, fully dressed. Clothes are over-rated. I know I told him to put them on, but his body was made to be admired. He steps into the kitchen, returning minutes later, carrying two mugs of hot cocoa.

He mouths, “Peace offering?” holding them up hopefully.

I accept one. “You think chocolate is going to make everything better?”

He grins cheekily, whispering, “Works nine times out of ten.”

As I take a sip, I'm surprised to find marshmallows and a hint of peppermint.

My mom, still on the line, hears my pleased sigh. “What was that?”

“Hot cocoa,” I mumble, taking another sip. “So good.”

“Are you high, child?”

I wish.

“No, Mom, I’m not high.”

Sean’s shoulders rattle as he suppresses a laugh. My mother’s filter has worn away over the years.

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