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Holt's Holding

BOOK: Holt's Holding
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Holt’s Holdings

Part
One

 

a.dagmara

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 

Holt’s
Holdings

Author:
a.dagmara

Cover
Illustration by © Fotosearch.com

ISBN 978-0-9857841-4-0

Copyright©
2013 Anna D Cameron

All
rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the
author
.

This
is a work of fiction, names, characters, places and incidents either are
products of the author’s imagination or
are used
fictitiously.
 
Any resemblance to actual
events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For
information on other titles by
a.dagmara
, please see
us on the website below or follow us on Facebook.com
        
www.adagmara.com

 
 
 
 
 
 

Dedication

 

I owe
an amorous debt of gratitude to those in my life, whom inspired many of the
scenes within this book.
 
Friendships are
familial bonds we cultivate in our lives, each different, unique, facilitating experience,
and memories that teach us our strengths and weaknesses.

Though
, this
book is a work of fiction, its inspiration is the basis of many conversations
and “happy hours” with my best friend.

Thank
you for giving me the memories to pull from!

 
 

Acknowledgements

 

To my
ever, patient husband, being married to an author is a true test of
patients.
 
Enduring weeks of my constant
need to write; neglecting everyday chores.
 
Not once complaining, offering your constant support and
encouragement.
 
There are no words, to
match or begin to express, my appreciation.

 

To my
Mother, thank you for being my fan!
 
Your
love of books and enthusiasm inspires me to push on when I want to all but give
up.
 
I love you.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter
1
 
 

The alarm clock, now screaming at me.
 
Opening my eyes and staring up at the white
ceiling, I
couldn’t
for the life of me understand, the
who, and why, someone would invent such an obnoxious sound.

Throwing my hand over to the nightstand, I think I had just
about hit everything, but the alarm clock.

Where in the hell is the damn snooze button?

I turned looking at the clock as it flashed 5:30 am. Thanks
to the beltway traffic, getting up this early is mandatory. I needed another
five minutes in bed; that I
can’t
afford.

Damn! My head is throbbing. What was I thinking?
Taking that many shots in one night, I was asking for punishment.

Going out in the middle of the week is insane. I have a job
to get to, and this morning of all mornings,
I’ll
be
sitting thru meetings most of the day.

I was in hell.
 

There was no doubt I had only myself to blame.

Overindulging in happy hour, which typically turned into a
late night, was normal, but not a midweek occurrence.
 
Now, I would pay for it at work.
 
Where in the hell was all my perfectly honed
discipline?
 
That’s
right I abandoned it with wild anticipation, taking three too many shots of
patron, and knowingly drunk, when I had done so.

This was clearly restless nerves of my past surfacing and
now today of all days!
 

Work what a joke.
 
I
hated my job, but it was one, that would lead me precisely where I had always
planned.
 
Or
in
my mind fantasized.

I honestly thought I would like being a junior editor for
an advertising agency. Well, it’s more like a “be my personal bitch” oh get my
“coffee” type of job.
 

I
didn’t
spend 4years in
undergrad, and another three in graduate school, to learn how to make coffee
and fetch dry cleaning. I was a glorified assistant if anyone actually wanted
to know what I did.
 
Fuck, I was probably
smarter than the entire staff put together.
 
Nevertheless, I needed this facade to facilitate my end goals.

Shaking my head, “I can’t afford to be late”.

Pulling me out of bed was painful. I stood to my feet and
circled around my bed to the bathroom.

Reaching in to the shower, turning it on, I went to the
vanity grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste.

Living in this building had some advantages, but getting
hot water, was not one of them. I had to wait for the cold water to run thru
for at least a couple of minutes.

Therefore, this was always the routine. Turn the water on,
brush teeth, and then shower.

Stepping into the shower was what I needed to wake myself.
Washing quickly was necessary, as I
didn’t
allow for
much time to putts around.
 
I strived and
lived for the routines I created.
 
They
held, what little, sanity and control, I had in my life.

Hurrying myself out of the bathroom, and rushing into the
kitchen, I was still dripping from the shower.

Dressed in nothing but my towel that was better suited to
dry my hair in; I needed to get the coffee started.
 
This was undoubtedly me multi-tasking.
 
Turning on lights as the sun has yet to lite
the apartment. I noticed the coffee pot, as well smelled fresh coffee brewed.

Hmm, the coffee already made.
 
I stood there a bit confused, staring at the
coffee maker.

I was sure my roommate Julie
wouldn’t
have been up this early. She liked to sleep in, and early in her world was nine
am.

However, there was no need to question, as its one less
thing for me to do.

“Little miracles.”
I
whispered

I opened the cabinet and reached for a “to go” coffee cup,
and poured it full. Placing it on the counter, opening the fridge, my eyes
landed at the door for the creamer. Black coffee just would not do. I love -me
–some- creamer!

Pulling it free from the door, I slammed it shut turning to
the island where my cup stood.

Damn, my head hurt. I reached over for the Advil popping
out four pills into my palm.

“Ugh, I’m in hell!” I spoke aloud.
 

Taking the pills urgently, I finished pouring the creamer.
Pulling the mug to my lips, I took a sip to help the pills
down
.

Wow, this coffee was exceptionally yummy.
 
Not that, it normal was bad; this pot was not
my regular coffee.

A strong scent of men’s cologne invaded my nose.
 
Within a moment of physical recognition, all
the hairs on my neck stood to the shock.
 
Fuck me.
 
The first and only time
my body reacted with such yearning.
 
The
heated pooling raced directly between my legs had me almost shivering.
 
Lowering my eyes down and closing them to
take a calming breath.
  
Pausing with the
door still open, I could only guess that this mystery man was the one whom made
the coffee, logic hit. I was no longer alone in the kitchen.

Whispering in my head,
It’s
just
fucking cologne.
 
Funny
how the mind holds to certain senses; touch, feel, taste and of course smell.
 
His cologne took me back to a young girl’s
naïve, and very lusting emotions.
 
Shit!
 
Get a grip.

He must have come home with Julie last night. Part of me
was a bit annoyed. She and I had rules on bringing people home.

It was a basic rule for both her and my benefit, never
during the workweek. I guess she decided that the rule
didn’t
apply to this one niter.

Shit, I was standing in nothing more than a towel, now I
have to play host as she sleeps.

Perfect.

Just fucking perfect.
 

How can my day get any worse?

Oh yeah
that’s
right, I get to go
to work hung-over.

I closed the door and turned to seeing him standing there
with his head cocked to the side.
 
The
man
who’s
cologne had me so aroused.
 
Appraising him with a cautious eye, dressed
in what appeared to be an extremely expensive suit, purple tonal check shirt,
with a matching tie. He looked extremely well put together, if I was to offer
an opinion, and not at all her type.
 
In
fact, he was mine.
 
Holding my chin up,
my instincts kicked in.
 
I needed to
display confidence.
 
Even
if, I was practically naked.
 
Nudity
wasn’t
an issue for me.
 
I faced that fear a long time ago.
 
Reigning myself in, I found the woman
I’ve
become, as I took a moment longer to appraise the man
before me.

His blonde hair, perfectly out of place.
 
I found myself moving to his perfectly
sculpted body.
 
He was built like a
football player, wide chest, that lead to what I could only assume, a perfectly
v shape at his waist.
 
Moving back up to
his chiseled jaw, catching his eyes, I felt a bit trapped.
 
Something about them appeared a bit
dangerous.
 
Suddenly, that pull, that
heat that blossomed returned in spades.
 
If I had underwear
on
they would be
soaked.
 
He half grinned almost in notice
of my long appreciation of what I was looking at.
 
No embarrassment, on my
part.
 
He clearly knew he was
attractive.
 
That, I
didn’t
doubt for a second.
 
The man oozed
arrogance and confidence, beyond anything I thought I had learned to
possess.
 
His grin and body language had
me pulling slow, desperate breaths.
 
Possibly, it was just the way his green eyes appeared to look straight
through me.
 
For a second that scared the
shit out of me.
 
For lack of a better
description, I was dumbfounded and frozen in place.

BOOK: Holt's Holding
6.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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