If You Want Me (The Toronto Terror Series)
Chapter 8

“Who needs a top up on their drink?” I bring a fresh bottle of prosecco into the living room, along with another of sparkling grape.

A chorus of me’s follows.

I make a circuit around the room, filling glasses with the appropriate drink. Hemi, Tally, Shilpa, Rix, and Dred are over to watch tonight’s game. It’s a good break from all the angst up in my head.

“It’s a strong start to the game,” Hemi observes.

“Roman’s killing it in net tonight,” Shilpa adds.

“He was worried about this game, so I’m glad he’s playing smooth.” His goal has always been to go out on top, and so far he’s been making that happen.

“How are we for snacks? Does anyone need anything else?” I survey the table. “Should I top up the chips?”

“You should sit down and chill out for five minutes.” Rix pats the couch cushion beside her.

I set the bottles in the ice bucket and take the offered seat. The camera pans to the bench where Hollis is chewing on his mouth guard. I take a hefty gulp of my prosecco, relieved when the game goes to commercial break since I can’t tear my eyes away.

I mute the TV. “How’s everything going with your dance competition, Tally?”

“Good. It’s a complicated routine, but if we can pull it off, it’ll be a great finish to my senior year.”

“You will, you’re so dedicated,” Hemi says proudly.

“Are there any guys on your dance team that you’re interested in?” Dred asks.

Tally laughs. “For the most part those guys are interested in each other. But honestly, last year two of the people on my core troop started dating, and then there was drama and it just got awkward when they broke up. We spend so much time together, so we’re all close, and I can see how easy it would be to give in to that temptation, but the fallout sucks for everyone.”

“I relate to that awkwardness,” Rix says.

“It’s probably why Roman has always been on you about never dating the players,” Hemi says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s part of it.” I take another sip of my prosecco and fight the flush working its way into my cheeks. Having a thing for one of the players would be bad enough, but this thing I have for Hollis is on a totally different level. “Mostly he wants me to end up with someone normal, so I have stability. Which I understand, but the flip side is that normal guys don’t really understand my life. I just want someone who will show up for me the way you all do.” And I need to stop wanting that person to be Hollis.

“It goes both ways, doesn’t it,” Dred muses as her knitting needles clink soothingly against each other. She’s making toques for the unhoused who frequent the library where she works. She’s amazing. “You show up for all of us.”

“And you really showed up for me.” Rix hugs my arm.

“You’re a badass babe,” Hemi declares.

“This,” Shilpa agrees.

“To badass babes.” Hemi raises her glass, and we all follow.

“We should have Badass Babe Brigade shirts,” I muse.

“I’ll have them designed,” Hemi replies.

“We’ll be our own team,” Tally says with a grin. “Officially.”

“Yeah, we will.”

I’m half in the bag, thanks to all the prosecco, and struggling to get my sleep shorts on when Hollis messages.

Hollis

Hey, checking in.

I forgot to feed the boys. They might be able to wait until morning, but it increases the risk of Postie taking an anger dump on Hollis’s bed. Pajama situation sorted and phone in hand, I step into the hall. Rix’s door is closed, and her light is off. I pause, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. Part of me wants to use his spare bedroom to be a brat.

I return to my bedroom, stuff Batdick into my purse, shove my feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, and leave the apartment with Hollis’s fob. Two minutes later, I let myself into his penthouse. A single light illuminates the living room. As predicted, he forgot to shut his bedroom door. I drop my purse in the hall outside his room and peek inside. Postie and Malone are curled up together on his pillow.

I scan the room for the kitty cam. I spot it on his dresser, across from his bed. It’s tucked beside a small stack of books and a framed crayon drawing from his niece.

My stomach flips, and my mouth goes dry. The camera has a perfect view of the bed and the door leading to the hall. I believe him when he said he deleted the video without watching. Hollis is honorable and a rule follower. If his physical therapist tells him to sit in the hot tub for half an hour, he times it. If the team doctor says he needs to up his lean protein, he has Rix tailor his meals to hit that target. But I wish for once he could have let go of his rule-following ways and watched the video, instead of deleting it.

Postie stretches, and Malone’s tail twitches. I glance from them to the camera. It’s late. Hollis is probably in bed, already asleep. How much harm would it do if I joined the kitties for a minute or two? Just provide the cuddles they’re missing before I give them a snack. Huff Hollis’s pillow. Maybe even steal one of them for a possible self-gratification session in his spare bedroom. I climb up onto the bed. Malone lifts his head, and Postie gives me a head butt.

“Hi, boys. Sorry I’m so late for a little loving and a treat.” I scratch under their chins.

My phone buzzes from the hallway, where it’s tucked inside my purse.

I ignore it.

“You missing your daddy?” I rest my head on the pillow and inhale deeply. I’m not disappointed. Hollis’s aftershave permeates the fabric.

My phone buzzes again. And again.

Postie trots to the end of the bed and hops to the floor. Malone climbs onto my chest and headbutts my chin.

My phone goes off again. This time with a call.

“Come on, buddy, that’s probably your daddy losing his mind because I’m in his bed again.” I move him off my chest and roll to the edge of the mattress, popping to my feet.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I’m suddenly anxious. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. Maybe because I’m hurt? Maybe because he can’t do anything about it while he’s a flight away?

The call ends but starts again a few seconds later. I answer it on the second ring.

“You’re pushing it,” Hollis growls into the phone.

Everything tightens at his gravelly tone. “I was just petting the boys.” And huffing your pillow. “If you closed your bedroom door, I wouldn’t have to cuddle with them before I entice them out of your bed with treats.”

“If you shake the treats, they’ll come running,” he says. “Apparently, there’s a microphone in the camera.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat and head for the kitchen. “Right, okay.” I put him on speakerphone and set the phone on the counter while the boys meow their treat excitement.

“I’ll regret telling you that,” he mutters.

“You’re the one putting kitty cams in your house without telling me, Hollis.” It’s easier to push him when he’s not right in front of me.

“You’re the one masturbating in my bed,” he fires back.

My whole body clenches. I wish I’d recorded him saying the word masturbate. “I thought we weren’t ever talking about that again.”

“Yet there you were, rolling around in it again, while dressed in almost nothing.”

I look down. “I’m wearing pajamas, not almost nothing.”

“Were you dressed like that in the elevator? Did anyone else see you?” he snaps. “Men can be real creeps.”

I can’t tell if this is a dad-style reprimand or what. “Yes, Hollis. The elevator was actually full of people at eleven at night. In fact, a whole team of horny rugby players were on it with me. A few of them were super hot, too. They asked for my number, and I figured, why not, right?”

“Do not fuck with me right now, Princess,” he warns.

My vagina gets excited and takes the reins. “Or what, Hollis? What are you going to do about it when you’re all the way in Nashville and I’m in your kitchen, wearing almost nothing?”

I’m half drunk on prosecco. That’s the only explanation for the crap I’m spewing.

“You need a lesson in respecting boundaries, little girl.”

I flick on the kitchen light and rummage around in the fridge for the cats’ food. I’m angry, horny, and hopped up on adrenaline, so my hands are shaking. I accidentally drop the can on the floor, causing Malone to jump and lumber down the hall. Postie isn’t as easily dissuaded. “Is that what you want to do? Teach me a lesson?” I can’t stop goading him. All this pushing will probably bite me in the ass.

He grunts. “Stop slamming things around. You’re freaking Malone out.”

“Stop spying on me like a dirty daddy.” I wonder where mine is.

“A dirty…” He huffs. “What are you trying to accomplish, Peggy?”

“I came over to feed the cats before bed. That’s it. You’re the one using your spy cams and getting on my ass about my sleepwear. What are you trying to accomplish, Hollis?” I’m acting like a spoiled brat, I realize—behaving like the little girl he’s accused me of being. Maybe because he’s trying to keep me in the Peggy box when I want to be someone else to him. I spoon food into both dishes and move Postie to his bowl when he goes for Malone’s food first.

“I want you to respect my boundaries.”

I whistle and call Malone’s name, but he doesn’t come. Probably because I scared the shit out of him with all my banging around and the loud voices.

“Malone is under my covers,” Hollis says.

“Do I have permission to retrieve him?” I’m all snark with a heaping side of attitude.

“Yes, you have permission to retrieve him.”

I leave my phone on the kitchen counter and return to Hollis’s bedroom. It only takes a moment to coax Malone out from under the covers. I carry him like a baby back to his bowl, pulling Hollis’s bedroom door closed behind me. Postie, as expected, has already eaten half of both bowls. I top up Malone’s dish and distract Postie with petting so Malone can eat his food in peace.

“Peggy?” Hollis’s voice comes from the counter.

“Yup.” I half expected him to hang up by now, since I’m being antagonistic.

“There are a couple of hoodies in the front hall closet.”

“I’m not leaving yet. And literally no one was on the elevator when I came up here.”

“Just grab one, please.”

I scan the room, looking for the kitty cam. I spot it across the room by the TV. I roll my eyes dramatically, but cross to the front hall closet and open the double doors. Hollis has an exceptional collection of shoes and jackets. My knees turn to Jell-O as I inhale the scent of his cologne.

I choose a zip up, pull it from the hanger, and shrug into it. It’s the one he wore the other day when we went to the diner. I turn toward the camera. “Happy now?”

“Immensely.” His voice is guttural.

I grab my phone from the counter before I cross the room and pick up my purse from where I left it outside his bedroom door.

“What are you doing now?”

“What you said I could.” I head down the hall to the spare bedroom. “Sweet dreams, Hollis.” I end the call before he can respond.