Sweet Spot

Chapter 16 | Shortcake

I almost don't look away because...well, it's hard to believe he's looking at me the way he is. Like he sees me. Like he doesn't want me to ever doubt that I'm the one he sees.

I break our intense stare, feeling oddly breathless, and hesitantly turn his hand over. I'm all too aware of the purposeful touch. His skin is warm and kind of rough against mine, and the pricks of hair on his hand tickle my fingers. It's weird but even his hand alone holds so much strength. He just feels so solid. Secure. Powerful.

My fingers seem infinitely smaller than his as I pry them away from his palm. I blink at the bundle of cash neatly rolled and tied up. It's so precise that I know it was his him who did this.

"What is it?" I eye the money curiously.

"Yours," He repeats. "From your sales today."

"That's not mine. I didn't sell enough to make that much."

"You sold out."

What the heck is he talking about? I push his hand away and feel my mouth pinch tightly when I look at him. "I gave the rest away for free, Holden. This isn't my money."

"They bought the rest." He argues before I can say anything else. "I made sure they all paid."

Aaaand I'm officially lost. "Why would they pay you if I already told them they were free?"

"Because they got free merchandise instead. Just take the money, Sierra."

I don't take it from him because I'm too busy gaping at him and trying to process his words. He puts the money in my hands and his touch feels the same but different. This time it's his hand on mine. He palm covers my hand completely and what's weirder is he doesn't let go. Just looks at me expectantly.

"How did your company make enough money for sales if you gave everything away?"

He shrugs. "We didn't. But it doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?" I parrot his words incredulously. Did he go through some time vortex I wasn't aware of? If so I think I'd like to try it and go back to last month when everything still made sense. "You always bring in the numbers. You hate failure."

"It's my biggest fear," He confirms so seriously that I stop talking. All I can do is watch as his face takes on a solemn expression. This time he won't look at me but he does brush him thumb across my hand lightly before pulling away. I try to ignore how that spot burns with awareness. "I don't know how to accept failures and mistakes. It drives me crazy when I make them and I feel physically ill if I can't fix the things in my life that go wrong. Failure triggers my compulsions, the yanking at the cuff links and ties constantly. They help me feel grounded when my OCD kicks in. I'll do whatever I can to feel in control. Even act like a class A dick."

"Is this another apology?" I whisper, a little stunned by his admission. I just thought he was a control freak and uptight, not that he had an obsessive compulsive disorder.

Though all I can see is the side of his face, I swear his mouth twitches for a moment. "Am I getting better at those? You seemed to tell right away."

"Is that a sense of humour?" This time my mouth twitches even though I try to stop it. "You better tone down all that personality before you give me a heart attack, Satan."

He chuckles and it's so unexpected that I can't stop my pleased smile. I look away instead. That might have been the first time I made him laugh since we were kids. I forgot how great it feels cracking through his hard shell.

Silence follows the brief moment we shared, the echoes of our joined laughter lingering between us. I'm a little flustered. Okay. A lot flustered. I didn't think Holden and I were capable of being civil with each other but apparently can. We're pretty good at it too.