Five Minute Man: A Contemporary Love Story (9 page)

Fighting back an irrational surge of both jealousy and envy (the woman looked like something right out of Playboy or Penthouse with mile-long legs and a set of double-Ds that defied gravity), Holly had stepped back into the shadows. A quick exit was preferable, but there was no way to accomplish that without being seen. She’d have to cross right in front of them to reach the main doors.

Who was that woman? Judging by the way she leaned close to Adam and was touching him, they were more than casual acquaintances. Holly couldn’t see Adam’s face, but she could see the woman’s. There was no mistaking what was on
her
mind.

“
When I called the other night, Brandon said you went to a woman’s house. Should I be worried?
” Holly heard the words, her ears involuntarily tuning in to the dialog taking place only a few feet away. She turned her back to them and raised her hood, trying to untangle the ear buds from the mp3 she always had with her. Eavesdropping was not her thing on the best of days, and she was quite sure she didn’t want to listen in on this exchange. If she could just get her buds in, she could listen to music until they moved on and pretend that crampy, sick feeling in her stomach was from that last set of locust poses.

“
No.
” Holly heard Adam’s answer clearly. Despite her best attempts, her fingers weren’t moving fast enough to get the buds into her ears in time.

“
Who is she? Do I know her?
”

“
It was business.
”
Shit, shit, shit! Stop listening! Goddamn made-in-Taiwan pieces of shit!
No matter how carefully she wound them, they always got tangled.

“Oh, that’s different. Why didn’t he just say so? Want to go out this weekend? My friend’s band is playing downtown.”

Holly didn’t wait to hear his answer. Ensuring her hoodie was in place, she slipped in front of the group of guys coming out of the gym, being extra careful to keep her back to Adam and his... whatever. For once, she was thankful for her lack of height; it would be all but impossible to see her in front of the guys.

She climbed into her Sportage and sent a quick text to Liz.
Good luck with Mr. Flexible, I’m heading out. Call me tomorrow with details.

Holly took a deep breath and turned the key. At least now she didn’t have to wonder anymore why Adam hadn’t called her.

In the twenty minute drive back to her place, Holly refused to think about what she’d just seen and heard, forcing herself to concentrate on the road. Once she got home, however, it was a different story.

“He’s probably feeling guilty,” she told Max, putting a scoop of ice cream into his dish, then two more into hers. It was partially her fault. She’d never bothered to ask if Adam was involved with anyone. She’d just assumed otherwise, which was stupid on her part. “That’s why he left like his pants were on fire and hasn’t called since. He wasn’t supposed to kiss me. Things just got out of hand, and he freaked. Caught up in the moment, that’s all. Happens all the time, right?”

Holly sat down at the kitchen table and stuffed a big spoonful into her mouth. “And me, thinking all that stupid shit. Me, of all people! I should know better than anyone that that crap doesn’t happen in the real world. If it did, people wouldn’t need to buy my books, would they?”

Max looked up at her, licking away the last of the chocolate from his muzzle.

“I know, right?” she said around the spoon, hearing in her mind the words her faithful companion was incapable of vocalizing. “I’m pathetic. Falling for my own drivel.”

Holly scraped out the last of the chocolate marshmallow and gave the bowl to Max to lick clean before she put it in the dishwasher. “I blame myself. And Liz. All that shit about alpha males and five minute men pushing the right buttons. What a crock of shit.”

She put the bowl in the last available space on the bottom rack and added some detergent, slamming the door closed a little harder than necessary. Adam
had
pressed quite a few of her buttons. He was good-looking and well-built. Intelligent. Had his own successful business, restoring old houses, for crying out loud. Family was obviously important to him – he let his nephew live with him while he went to college and literally glowed with pride whenever he talked about him.

Except for the thrum of sexual tension between them, he had been very easy to be around. Holly had felt comfortable enough with him to talk about her family and her career – things she rarely spoke of with anyone besides Liz. She’d even felt safe enough to invite him to her home.

God, she was an idiot. Why would Adam ever want someone like her when he had that blonde centerfold at his beck and call? Holly was pretty sure when Adam was with her they weren’t eating pizza on the floor watching cheaply rented movies, no matter how content he’d seemed at the time.

Of course, she already knew the answer to that question, especially since she’d heard the answer from Adam himself.
It was business.
Right. Because she had a centuries-old stone cottage that needed a shitload of restoration, and conveniently enough, that’s what he did for a living.

Holly let Max out one more time, then locked up the house and headed for the shower. Yeah, it was no wonder Adam was willing to put in a little extra effort to garner her business. He’d probably been picturing his retirement fund the whole time she was giving him the tour.

There had been that kiss, though – there had been nothing business related about
that
. Then again, just because it had tilted her axis didn’t mean it had done the same thing for him. The fact that he’d bolted right afterward and hadn’t called since should have been a great big clue, and tonight’s encounter had put the last piece of the puzzle into place.

Holly pulled an old, oversized college jersey T over her head, taking comfort in the familiar way the hem touched mid-thigh. She brushed her hair and her teeth. Took a good look at herself in the mirror. Tiny lines were starting to become visible around the corners of her eyes and mouth. Though she was far from looking old, she no longer had the dewy glow of youth she once did. There was nothing remarkable about her features. She had the same green eyes and brown hair as the rest of her family, though the dark cherry streaks were a personal indulgence, a symbolic middle-finger to those who decried her creativity and independence.

Nothing like the stunning blonde perfection of the Nordic-looking Zumba instructor.

Deciding to forego any attempt at writing tonight – undoubtedly whatever she came up with would reflect her crappy mood – she crawled into bed. Max was there a moment later, more than happy to curl up next to her on the other side of her double-bed. He settled down on the pillow with a big sigh and looked at her with his mismatched eyes. Holly reached out and let her fingers rake through his thick, silky fur. No wonder dogs were brought to hospitals and retirement homes; just the fact that he was there was a comfort. Between Max and Turkey Hill’s chocolate marshmallow swirl, Holly could handle just about anything.

Self-pity was not her thing. This was just another bump, another life lesson to remind her of how and why she’d chosen to leave her corporate-based career and move out into her own secluded little world. She just wasn’t wired like everyone else, and sometimes, she forgot that.

One night. That’s all she’d allow to feel sorry for herself. Tomorrow she’d wake up and get right back into the swing of things (metaphorically speaking, of course), a little smarter than she had been yesterday.

T
he phone rang several times until voicemail picked up with a generic message. Adam looked at the display and confirmed that he’d punched the right digits, since there was nothing to identify it as Holly’s voicemail (a common but inconvenient safety measure). Suddenly he realized he had no idea what to say. As he listened to the computer generated voice, he ran thru and dismissed the first couple of things that came to his mind.

Hi, Holly, it’s Adam. Sorry I panicked and ran out of your house last Friday.

Hi, Holly, it’s Adam. I saw you at the Y tonight and you looked really hot. I couldn’t hang around for you though, because a crazy stalker chick caught sight of me first.

Hi, Holly, it’s Adam. I can’t stop thinking about you.

All were true, but probably not the best messages to leave on her voicemail. The monotoned instructions ended, followed by a muted beep that told him he was out of time.

“Hi Holly, it’s Adam. There’s a big expo this weekend over in Dalton, lots of great ideas for renovating, if you’re interested. My number’s on the card I left at your place.”

Adam hung up after leaving his number and frowned. Where was she, anyway? It was nearly eleven o’clock at night. He didn’t feel bad about calling so late; she’d confessed that she was often up into the wee hours of the morning. It was when she wrote her best stuff, she’d said.

Did she go out with her friend after the Y? That had been hours ago. Maybe she was in the shower. Or outside with Max. Yeah, that’s probably all it was. She’d call him back in a few.

After seeing her earlier, he wanted to hear her voice again. Thanks to Eve’s untimely arrival, he’d missed the opportunity to speak with her in person; she must have slipped out while he was occupied. He’d have to make do with hearing her voice over the phone.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind. It had been five days – more than enough to convince him that whatever the hell this thing was between them, he wanted to pursue it. No woman had ever managed to affect him so thoroughly or so quickly, and that had to mean something, right?

He waited till midnight, checking his phone every couple of minutes, but she didn’t call. Maybe she figured it was too late. He had told her that he liked to get an early start. Yeah, she was being considerate. She’d call him back tomorrow.

***

T
he moment his alarm went off, Adam pulled out his cell and checked again. Nothing, except for the one text that had come through somewhere just before dawn:
Thanks, but I can’t
.

That was it. No further explanation. No “I’ll call you later” or implied invitation or suggested alternatives. Four words that seemed strangely distant and impersonal from the woman who was anything but.

He tried again Thursday night. Holly had been free last Thursday. Logic suggested she might be again this week. He frowned when her voice mail picked up again.

“Hi Holly, it’s Adam. Got your text. Sorry you can’t make it to the Expo. Are you interested in grabbing a coffee or something? If you give me a list, I can check out some things for you while I’m there.”

Adam ended the call and shook his head.
Way to go, Romeo
. Why didn’t he just bite the bullet and ask her out? Instead he had to hide behind some lame business excuse. Yeah, the Expo was cool, but more importantly, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to spend the day with Holly. A nice long car ride, walking around the half-million square foot indoor arena, maybe impressing her a little bit with his knowledge. Then he’d casually suggest dinner, and when he took her home, she’d invite him in. And this time, he wouldn’t panic when he got her in his arms.

***

H
olly bit her lip when her cell phone lit up and Adam’s number appeared on the screen. She let it ring, waiting to pick it up until she saw the voicemail icon pop up. For a few moments, her heart stuttered with hopeful possibilities. Unable to wait, she listened to his message, her heart dropping a little more with each word. Certain words and phrases echoed long after she ended the call.
Coffee
, not dinner, not take-out Chinese or sausage-pepperoni-and-cheese.
Give me a list
, not let’s get together. There was no mistaking those signals; the back-off message was coming through loud and clear.

Yeah, she’d been an idiot. Thinking that Adam was interested in her as something more than a potential client.

She waited until much later to respond; she certainly didn’t want to give him any more reason to think that she wanted any more than that. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. “
Sorry, can’t
.”

Despite the fact that it was three in the morning, Adam replied almost instantly. “
Why not?
”

Shit
. No way to pretend she wasn’t awake, not when she’d just texted him a minute earlier. So much for her brilliant plan.

“
Tight deadline.
” It was sort of true. She’d promised herself she’d finish up the paranormal she was working on by Sunday. No need to tell him that she’d already submitted a completed draft of her alpha SEAL novel to her editor a full month ahead of schedule.

“I understand. Can you take a break for dinner tomorrow? I can pick something up.”

Now
he mentioned dinner? Obviously, he sensed his fat payday drifting away and was willing to go the extra mile.
“No, but thanks anyway.”

***

A
dam stared at the screen, the last of his doubts fading away.
Shit
. She was pissed. He should have called her over the weekend. Instead of texting, he called her number. She knew that
he
knew she was awake and responding, and unless she was really angry, she’d have to answer.

“Yes?” Adam flinched at the sound of her voice. Instead of her smooth, musical tones, her voice was unusually devoid of feeling. Cold. Very un-Holly like.

“Holly, I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Me, too.” That threw him. What the hell did she have to be sorry for? She wasn’t the one who panicked or didn’t call even after she said she would.

“For what?”

He heard a soft but weary sigh on the other end. “I’m sorry, Adam. I just don’t have the money to put into the cottage right now. I’ll definitely keep you in mind, though. Thanks.”

Holly hung up before he could respond. Adam stared at the phone for several minutes.
What the fuck?

––––––––

A
dam waited in the hallway for the yoga class to let out. It was a sign of just how desperate he was, willing to risk another run in with Eve. Short of showing up on Holly’s doorstep, however – which he had considered doing many times over the last several days - he was out of options. Last night he’d planted himself in Applebees in the hopes of crossing her path, but she and her friend hadn’t shown. After he’d witnessed the young female convention amassing in Brandon’s section, he understood why.