Triple Threat (16 page)

Holly also glanced around for paparazzi in the surrounding trees. Their school visit had been last-minute and hush-hush, but she wouldn’t put it past the gossip rags to have someone on Nick’s tail. Even if they didn’t, it’d been almost ten minutes since they’d left Mr. Traver and his cell-phone-carrying, Instagram-happy students. Plenty of time for the local news stations to send a crew over. A money shot of Nick punching his father would be a complete nightmare for him, personally and professionally.

She could feel Nick’s fingers curling against her backbone. A second later they relaxed and he released her, smoothing the dress against her bottom and giving it a pat, as if he’d decided not to up the asshole ante.

Nick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be in town for six weeks. I promise we’ll get together. Maybe you can spend some time at the theater, see me at work.”

“You call that work?” Nick’s father almost spat the last word. “Being a spoiled movie star? Prancing around a stage like a fairy? Talk to me about work when you’ve got a few calluses.”

“Hey.” Holly let go of Nick’s arm and took a step forward. So much for no sudden movements. How dare he belittle their work? She came chin-to-chest on the man, but she took on his ice-blue stare. “Nick does not prance.”

“Don’t bother.” Nick tugged her back a step and laced his hand in hers, firm and still. Only his racing pulse told the real story. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. Besides, I’ll take prancing onstage over throwing a fucking piece of pigskin five hundred times a day, then hearing over dinner how every goddamn throw was wrong.”

His father stepped neatly past Nick, ignoring every word. “Let’s go, Vera. I’m late for my meeting and we need this sale.”

His mother tearfully brushed Nick with a kiss as she passed by, and he offered a diluted version of his million-dollar smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Sorry, Mom.”

“I know you are, Nicky.”

“I’ll call you.”

“You always do, honey. I love you. And your father meant well. You loved football...”

“Save it, Mom.”

“Vera.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Nicky,” his mother whispered. “And you, too, Holly.”

Manners observed, she slipped her thin, wrinkled hand from Nick’s shoulder and shuffled away, head down, leaving Holly and Nick to stare after her as she followed in her husband’s wake.

“She thinks she loves the bastard,” Nick said quietly a few moments later.

“Yeah.” Holly sighed. She got that.

He lifted Holly’s hand to his lips and gave it a small, warm kiss just as the Channel 8 mobile news van pulled into the parking lot. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

* * *

“
H
OLLY?”

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and not just because no matter how far back he slid the damn thing his right knee kept hitting the steering column. They’d been driving in relative silence for the past ten minutes, the only break in the awkward stillness an occasional sniffle from Holly’s side of the car. Or was she hiccuping? He couldn’t really tell, and he was too chicken to risk a glance her way to find out.

“Are you okay?” he ventured.

More silence. Then another sob. Or hiccup. Or whatever.

There was no way he was taking her home like this. He made the split-second decision to turn onto the narrow, bumpy road that circled Leffert’s Pond, not knowing exactly where he was going but thankful for the swells and ruts that required his full attention, distracting him from the crying—or hiccuping—or whatever-ing—woman in the next seat.

He hadn’t had much experience sticking around for the aftermath of his father’s abuse, physical or otherwise. When he was younger, his mother had hustled him off to his room. By the time he was in his teens, he’d gotten smart enough to get out without any prompting once the storm had died down and he knew his mom was safe.

He cringed as Holly let out another unidentifiable sound. Better not to mention that things could have gone a whole lot worse. He was a little relieved, actually. His father had always been a fan of the surprise attack—aka the sucker punch. That would have sent things in an entirely different direction altogether.

Nick unclenched his fingers around the wheel. He’d bitten his tongue back there, and it’d been hard as hell. He waited for some revelation about what to do with Holly. Was she having a flashback?

Jesus.

This was why he liked scripts and make-believe. The drama in real life hurt too damn much.

Then he saw it. The for-sale sign in front of a familiar gray clapboard house. The scene of the crime, so to speak. Not that kissing Holly had been a crime, although Jessie Pagano should have been hauled off in handcuffs for interrupting them.

The driveway was empty, the lawn overgrown. He took it as an omen and swung a hard left into the drive, spraying gravel as he braked.

Then he manned up and looked at her.

Shit.

Holly sat hunched over, her bent head resting on crossed arms. Yet somehow she still managed to be alluring. Maybe it was the graceful curve of her back, her soft, pale skin visible between the straps of her sundress. Or the long line of her exposed neck, calling for him to lick a moist trail from her hairline to her collarbone.

She drew a deep, shaky breath and he mentally slapped himself for being a complete and total horndog. Trembling, she pressed her palms deep into her eye sockets. But it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of tears running down her beautiful face.

Ouch.

Nick hadn’t cried since he was kid, another lesson his father had drilled into him.

His chest seized, high and tight at the memory. It was how he’d brace for a hit on the field, or at home. Now he used that instinct for stunts. His trainer called it his wall of muscle, which looked great on film. That wall made one thing a safe bet: no one was going to gut punch him again.

Ever.

“Hey, come on. Don’t cry.” He gave her an awkward pat on the back. Christ, he sucked at this emotional hand-holding stuff. “You were great back there. Defending my honor.”

She lifted her head to look at him and his chest squeezed even tighter. A wet finger snaked its way into his clenched hand, resting on his thigh. “That sucked.”

“Just an average day for me and my father.” He lifted his other hand from her back and brushed a tear from her cheek, one corner of his mouth involuntarily twisting into a smile. “I’ve had to deal with my parents’ bullshit my whole life. I’m just sorry you had to see it.”

“You know what?” Unfastening her seat belt, Holly leaned back, stretched her legs and gave a long, shuddering sigh. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think it’s exactly what I needed to see.”

“How so?”

“A part of me has always wondered if I made the right decision leaving when I did. If it would have turned out...differently if I had stayed and tried to work things out with Clark.” She bit her lip and stared out the window. “Now I know.”

“Trust me. There’s no working things out with some guys. My father’s one of them. From what you’ve told me, I’m pretty sure your ex is another.”

“Yeah. I guess you and I have more in common than I thought, with men like that in our pasts.” Holly closed her eyes and stretched again, arching her back and raising her hands over her head. The movement made her breasts strain against the thin fabric of her dress, and suddenly the atmosphere in the car seemed stifling, claustrophobic.

Nick dropped his hand and surreptitiously adjusted his cargo shorts so she wouldn’t see the havoc she was wreaking on his libido. What was the matter with him? If he didn’t get the hell out of that car—and fast—he was going to take her right there in the driveway, which, he reminded himself, would be a colossal mistake.
Hello
—not two minutes ago she was a hot sniffling mess, thanks to his father and the memories of her piece-of-shit ex-husband he’d dredged up. Definitely not the time to go all alpha on her.

“Come on.” He flung open the driver’s door. “Let’s finish this discussion outside. I need some air.” He climbed out and headed through the tall grass toward the lake.

“Where are we going?” The sound of crunching gravel morphed into the swish of the grass against her ankles as she got out of the car and trailed after him.

“Back to where it all began.”

15

H
OLLY WAS HALFWAY
to the lake, letting the cool breeze off the water calm her jangling nerves, when she saw the dock and stopped short.

Even faded and warping, it was still the showpiece of Leffert’s Pond. A long series of boards led to a large square platform covered by what looked like the roof of a Chinese pagoda. A wooden dinghy bobbed alongside, tied to one of the pilings.

Give her a thousand covered docks and Holly would still recognize this one. Nick’s words echoed in her head.

Back to where it all began.

He stood under the Paganos’ ostentatious pagoda, in almost the same spot where he’d found her the night of the cast party. Facing the water, hands thrust into the pockets of his shorts, he looked like a modern-day pirate. The wind ruffled his dark curls, dangerous and sexy, as he stood surveying his plot of the briny deep.

She made her way across the yard and down the dock. It creaked and swayed with every step, signaling her approach, but he didn’t turn, not even when she reached his side. “Are you sure we should be here?”

He angled his head and his chocolate eyes mirrored hers, half-lost in memory. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, sending ripples down her spine. “I can’t think of anyplace better. Can you?”

“You know what I mean. It’s private property.”

“You must have missed the sign out front. It’s on the market. And from the looks of things, it’s been vacant for a while. No one around to bother us.”

She’d been too puffy-eyed to spot the sign when they pulled in, but the traces of neglect were evident in the cracked wood pilings and peeling paint. It was eerie how, despite the changes, the place still felt so familiar. And a little bit “theirs.”

The pier was New England rustic, and the lapping water relaxed her. Nick was right. This was just what she needed.

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s beautiful. And thanks for not freaking out back in the car. I’m sorry I lost it like that....”

“Hey, it’s okay. My fucked-up family has that effect on people.” Nick lowered his long, lean frame to sit on the dock, and held a hand up to her.

Relaxed or not, her emotions were still running high. Any physical contact and she might spontaneously combust. She wiped a damp hand on her backside and sat beside him, not touching. “I hope you don’t expect any words of wisdom this time. I’m fresh out.”

“You sure?” He reached down and dragged his hand through the water. The simple movement made his biceps ripple, and she bit back a sigh. The man was beautiful, even in the middle of a personal crisis. “You did so well last time.”

“Right. So well your father doesn’t speak to you and you barely see your mother.”

“My father was never going to be satisfied with me, no matter what I did. And my mother was never going to stand up to him. I was trapped, and you gave me a way out. At least this way I’m following my own dream, not his.”

“I wouldn’t give up on your mom. Not just yet.”

“How’d you work up the courage to leave?”

Holly shook her head and stared out across the surface of the lake, clear and calm and dappled by the late-afternoon sunlight. “It had nothing to do with courage and everything to do with necessity.”

“Bullshit.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you. Even at sixteen, you had the courage to be your own person, not who your parents, or your teachers, or your friends expected you to be. I envied that.”

She stared down at the cool, clear water swirling around the pilings. Even now, as a grown woman, it was hard for her to hear a compliment. She let her legs dangle off the dock next to his, taking care not to brush against him. Something restless was building inside her and she needed to keep it locked away. Touching Nick seemed to burst her wide open, and it was hard to concentrate with the heat from his body surrounding her, making the hairs on her arm stand at attention. “I’m still in shock that you remember our conversation at the cast party. Now I’m supposed to believe you were jealous of me, too?”

“I told you, I remember everything.” Nick reached for her hand but she slid it out of range and under her thigh. “And not just about that night. About you. You always brought lunch from home, either peanut butter and jelly or tuna salad. And you ate with the band geek—uh, the music department kids, at a table in the corner by the vending machines. Your favorite subject was history, especially ancient civilizations. You even dressed as Cleopatra one Halloween.”

“Helen of Troy,” Holly muttered, amazed he’d gotten that close. Was it really possible he’d paid that much attention to her? As much as she had to him?

“You liked snow,” he continued, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “I watched you out the window once in Marketing and Management class. Everyone else ducked for cover and ran inside, but you lifted your head up and stayed out there after the bell, spinning around and catching flakes on your tongue. You looked like a snow fairy.” He put a warm hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. “How am I doing?”

Her heart practically lurched out of her chest, but she covered it with a wobbly laugh. “Were you having me followed or something? Bugging my locker?”

“Nah.” He nudged her with his shoulder, sending pinpricks of awareness racing down to her fingertips. “Just observant.”

“Why me? Pretty much every girl in school had a crush on you. And a few of the guys, too.”

“None of them were you. Especially the guys.” He waggled his eyebrows but then turned serious, hesitating before he spoke next, almost as if he was weighing his words. “You’re an amazing person, Holly. Then and now. When are you going to believe that?”