Page 1 of Finally Home

Chapter 1

Hollie

“Holland Armstrong, I did not raise you to be this much of a nuisance. It’s not that hard to pick up the phone and return my call. Lord knows what you have been getting up to. Your father and I expect you to be in attendance to celebrate your brother and Scarlett. You know he will be disappointed if you are not there. For once, it would be nice if you didn’t think of yourself and consider this family. Call me back as soon as possible.”

My thumb hovers over the Delete button on thewonderfulandlovingvoicemail my mother had just left. And she wonders why I rarely come home. Hmm, could it possibly be that in under three minutes, she makes me feel as little as possible?

Instead of deleting the message, though, I let out a heavy sigh and pocket my phone before opening the wooden door to Tilley’s Bar. Dealing with that voicemail can be a future Holland issue.

I hadn’t planned on stopping here in Elmhurst, but I was still unsure about my decision to attend my brother’s engagement party. So I bought myself a few extra days. At first, I thought my plan was shot to hell before it even started since there are no hotels nearby. But thankfully, I found a last-minute reservation at the cute bed-and-breakfast on Main Street.

Still wired from the drive and not wanting to sit in my room overanalyzing anything and everything, I asked the hostess for any recommendations. Since it was on the later side, she said my best guess was to check out Tilley’s Bar. Thankfully, it wasn’t a far walk from the B and B.

“I’ll be right with you,” the bartender shouts with his back to me as I take an open seat at the bar.

My mother’s words still swirl in my mind—for once, it would be nice if you didn’t think of yourself—as if choosing how I want to live my life was such a burden to my family.

A round, white coaster with the same anchor logo that was on the front door falls to the bar top, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Hey. What can I get ya?” a deep voice asks.

I lift my gaze to find the sexiest man I have ever seen leaning against the bar. His forearms flex as his palms press into the wooden top, and I can’t help but notice the way the material of his black T-shirt clings to his biceps like a second skin.

Holy shit, is this man for real?

His brown hair is shaggy, like he’s a month past due for a cut. A few strands hang low over his forehead, and I wonder if that’s just how they fall or if he purposely styles it that way. In contrast to his unruly hair, a neatly trimmed beard lines his angular jaw. This man gives me serious Damon Salvatore vibes, and I’d willingly let him bite me.

He dips his head low, with one brow raised in question and a smirk on his soft lips. I mean, I have no idea if they’re soft, but I imagine they are. My fingers fidget to keep myself from reachingout to touch them. That’s a surefire way to get myself thrown out of here and maybe escorted by men in white coats. But then again, that’s not completely out of the question because if I’m locked up for observation, I definitely can’t attend this party.

“You okay? Can I get you a drink?”

I shake my head out of my haze, my cheeks warming in embarrassment at my blatantly checking him out. Panic settles in my chest as I finally process his question.

I’m the type of girl who looks up menus before going to a place, so I know what my options are for ordering. I glance around but don’t find a menu with drinks listed, and the number of bottles behind the bar is overwhelming. To be honest, I’m not much of a drinker. The irony is that I’d rather sit here than alone in my room.

“Umm, I’m not sure, to be honest.”

He purses his lips together as he eyes me up. “Do you trust me?”

That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one. How could I trust him? I don’t even know his name. Yet here I am, nodding. He smiles, and I’m thankful I’m sitting because his full smile makes me weak in the knees.

I’m completely entranced as he effortlessly grabs bottle after bottle, turning and flipping them like he’s Tom Cruise in the movieCocktail. Ice rattles as he shakes the metal cup before pouring the liquid into the glass and dropping a bright straw in it, then sliding it in front of me.

I stare at it for a moment before lifting my eyes to meet his. His blue eyes are staring into me like he is waiting on bated breath for me to try it. I don’t want to keep him on edge as I lift the glass up and wrap my lips around the straw. It smells fruity, and the color of the drink reminds me of a beautiful sunset I would capture with my lens.

An explosion of flavor assaults my taste buds at my first sip.

“Wow, that’s delicious, thank you.”

The bartender beams with pride and nods.

“How did you do that? Know what I would like without even asking me anything.”

He shrugs. “Perk of the job, I guess. I can read people. Although…” He leans down, placing his elbows on the bar, clearly wanting me to lean in closer, too. “To be honest, it only works maybe seventy-five percent of the time.” He says the last part in a hushed tone as if it’s some big secret, and I giggle.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, pushing himself upright. “Kitchen’s technically closed, but I think the chef is still here and can whip you up something.”

“I don’t want to cause issues or anything.” Just as the words leave my mouth, my stomach lets out a large rumble as if it’s been weeks since I last ate and not a few hours.

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