Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(17)

Not the bravest thing in the world, but I’m so twisted up in my feelings that I need some time to process.

“You seriously couldn’t hire people to do this?” Reed asks Holt as he rests the hammer portion of the tool on the tile floor and leans his weight against the handle. I’d invited Reed to come along today, figuring I could put some time in mending our relationship. He wasn’t overly thrilled, but he also wasn’t going to say no to helping a new teammate out.

“My interior designer had hired a company to do this, but they had a scheduling conflict,” Holt says as he grabs the last sledgehammer off the counter. “I’ve got new flooring to be installed in two days, so everything needs to be out of here by then. Besides, again…fun. We get to demolish shit.”

“All right,” I say, shoring up my grip on the handle. “Let’s fucking do this.”

“Let’s do it,” Holt says with an evil sort of laugh. He steps over to a set of cabinets on a short wall that sits between his pantry and double oven. It has floating cabinets above a built-in desk.

Just as he starts to swing, a female voice calls out from the front door. “Helloooo. Holt…are you home?”

Holt tries to halt his swing, bobbles the sledgehammer, and it tumbles out of his hands. The heavy iron end falls onto his foot and he yells, “Fuck.”

Reed and I both snicker, but then straighten up tall when an amazingly beautiful woman walks into the kitchen. Her eyes go straight to Holt, who is muttering curses and limping around in circles.

“I told you to let me hire someone to do this,” the woman says in a throaty purr of a voice. Reed and I stand up a little straighter.

She’s tall, at least five ten and with curves in all the right places. Fashionably dressed in a white wraparound dress that hugs her—also in all the right places—with a pair of black heels that have to be at least four inches high. Her hair is a brilliant shade of red and her eyes are pale green.

Witchy eyes.

Holt shoots the woman an exasperated look and then throws his thumb at her. “That’s Ellerie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say as I lean forward and extend a hand to her. She shakes it and her grip oozes confidence and poise.

The smile I get back is warm and genuine. “Back at you, Marek Fabritis.”

“A hockey fan, huh?”

She releases my hand and nods while reaching across to Reed to shake his. “Big fan. Huge. And good to meet you too, Reed Olson.”

“Likewise,” he returns to her with an amused expression.

Holt sits the sledgehammer on the ground, leaning it up against the desk. He turns to Ellerie and asks, “What are you doing here today? Didn’t think you’d be by.”

“I’ve got a few more fabric samples to look at for the sunroom,” she says with a breezy wave of her hand. “I’m on my way to another client’s house not far from here and thought I’d just stop by.”

While I know demolishing shit is preferable to studying at fabric samples, Holt levels Ellerie with a huge smile. And why wouldn’t he? She’s a knockout. “Let’s have a look at them then.”

Reed and I glance at each other with matching smirks because looking at fabric samples is about as anti-Holt as you can get.

“The cases are in my car.” Ellerie turns away from him to head into the living room and back out the front door, showing me that she’s very, very comfortable in his home. Holt follows like a love-struck zombie.

Very fucking interesting.

“I wonder if he’s banging her,” Reed says in a low voice.

Shaking my head, I put my sledgehammer back into a two-handed grip. “No way. He looks like an adoring puppy right now. Carnal knowledge has not been acquired.”

Reed chuckles. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am,” I say knowledgeably. “Now let’s get started. I’m dying to smash stuff.”

“There’s a job opening at the hospital,” Reed says in an abrupt change of. “Josie is going to call Gracen today about it.”

I lower the sledgehammer back down to the ground, resting the heavy steel head on the tile floor. “What’s the job?”

“It’s not neonatal, but it is in labor and delivery,” Reed says with a shrug. “Josie figured she’d be interested to get her foot in the door.”

Huh. While I’ve been satisfied with Gracen living in my home and me covering expenses, there is an upside to her getting a job. It means she’ll be more permanently affixed to this area. The downside is she won’t be dependent on me, and the thought of her leaving the house is unsettling.

Not because I necessarily want her around.

Liar.

But because that would give me more time with Lilly.

And while I may have no fucking clue what I want with Gracen, I know for sure I want something with Lilly. I’m still completely out of my element with her, but the more time I spend around her, the easier it gets.

This morning, she came downstairs before Gracen did, and it was clear she had dressed herself. Her shirt was on backward, and while I’m no expert, I’m pretty sure lime green pants with little pink hearts don’t go with a navy blue striped T-shirt.

I pointed out that her shirt was on backward and she actually gave a little frustrated growl. It took me aback for a moment because I thought, Why is this little girl having to dress herself, which is clearly causing her frustration?