Holding Holly (Love and Football Series) (6 page)

His mother’s cell phone rang once before he heard her voice. “Derrick Luther Collins, where are you?”

“Didn’t you get my text, Mama?”

“That would be a ‘no,’ ” his mother said.

He did his best to keep his voice down. “I’m staying overnight at Holly’s grandma’s house because it’s all snowed in. I’m fine. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“We were so scared, young man—”

“I know, Mama. I’m sorry I haven’t called before now. I’ll call you in the morning when I can get my phone charger out of my rig.”

“I’ll tell your grandma you’re fine.”

“Thanks, Mama. See you tomorrow,” he said.

He heard footsteps behind him, and Holly’s grandma appeared at the kitchen door. She was rubbing her eyes.

“I’m going to bed, Derrick. Do you need anything else?” she asked.

“No, thank you. Is there anything you need—some water, or something to eat?”

“I’m fine.” She shuffled over to him, and got on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”

“You, too,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later, Derrick spread an old sheet over Miss Ruth’s family room floor. He gave up trying to sleep on the couch when more of him hung off it than on it. He curled into the blankets and stared at the ceiling. He was going to get one hell of a fine—and a legendary tongue-lashing at the least—for missing practice tomorrow, but he couldn’t seem to work up the usual sense of urgency about the fact that the Sharks were fighting for their lives in the playoff picture right now. He’d be damned if the Miners went to the big game again. Right now, though, he couldn’t stop thinking about Holly. He remembered her shy smiles, the way she fit against him, and the softness of her skin. He also remembered the butterflies in his stomach whenever she was near. She was a curvy little thing too. He’d always loved a woman with some flesh on her bones. She probably thought her butt was too big, and that he didn’t like the slight roll over the top of her jeans. She’d be wrong.

She wouldn’t demand that he take her to the most exclusive nightclubs or ask for his help establishing her singing or modeling career. She worked hard to prepare for and establish a career that would have her helping others every day. If all that wasn’t enough, his mama and his grandma were going to love her too.

It took a little coaxing to get her to talk with him, but it was worth the effort. He could remember how she smelled, too: a combination of powder, soft floral perfume, and freshly washed cotton. She was so shy with him at first, but the way she snuggled against him with perfect confidence made him wish they were alone.

Her grandma would
not
be happy if she could read his mind right now.

The pizza place was fine, but he’d love to take Holly someplace elegant for dinner. They could go dancing too. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with her.

He was still tossing and turning an hour later. Maybe he could get some sleep if he had another glass of water. He pulled himself off of the living room floor and padded into the kitchen. The light over the oven was still on, and he grabbed the drinking glass he’d used earlier. He glanced out of the window over the sink. The storm hadn’t let up at all.

Damn.

A kitchen table and four chairs sat in an alcove a few feet away. He strolled over, pulled a chair out and parked it while he drank his water.

The table was covered with mail. Letters stamped and ready to mail sat in a small pile on his left. He glanced at the return address:

Santa Claus

North Pole

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

Unopened letters sat in a stack on the other side of the table. Directly in front of him a letter with no return address, written on notebook paper, rested on the table next to a spiral notebook. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping in someone else’s private business, but he read the letter. It was from a kid asking for presents for his little sister and brother and a job for his mom for Christmas, just like the letter Holly had been crying over yesterday.

Two minutes later, he dug beneath the letter to discover a plain envelope addressed to “Santa Claus, North Pole” in the same messy printing. He was going to find this Michael kid and his family if it was the last thing he ever did.

Somebody in this house was playing Santa Claus, and he wanted in on the action.

Chapter Six

H
OLLY’S ALARM WENT
off much too early the next morning, and she let out a quiet groan in her darkened bedroom. She could hear the wind, still howling outside. She forced herself to sit up against the headboard as she grabbed her cell phone off of the nightstand. She stared at the blinking message light for a few seconds. Unless she was seeing things, someone had tried to call her last night. She hit the voicemail button on the phone, and she pulled the blankets around herself a bit more when she heard her boss’s voice.

“Holly, the power’s out on Main Street. We can’t open until it’s back on, and the power company can’t fix it until the storm lets up a little.” She heard him sigh. “Get some extra sleep, and I’ll call you later.”

The good news: She didn’t have to crawl out of bed right now. The bad news: Missing the hours was money out of her pocket. The other bad news: the Noel Merchants’ Association was having a holiday gathering tonight, and Holly was one of the servers for the caterer doing the event. If things didn’t improve on the weather front, she’d be out an entire day’s pay.

She shoved the phone onto her nightstand, flopped into her pillows, and yanked the blankets over her head. She didn’t want to be freaking out over money at 4:06
AM
. She wanted to be thinking about the fact that the guy she’d had a crush on for two years now was (hopefully) asleep on her grandma’s family room couch.

Maybe she should go and check on him, if she had nothing better to do than lie there and flip out over things she couldn’t change. She shoved herself out of the blankets and grabbed the less-than-stylish, worn bathrobe she’d left at the foot of her bed the night before. Grandma’s iron stove might be out of fuel too. She turned the thermostat way down at night to save money. Derrick was going to freeze his butt off if she didn’t make sure the stove was still heating the house.

Holly wrapped the robe around herself as she dashed across the hall to make a pit stop. She twisted her long hair into a coil of sorts and pulled it off of her neck with a banana clip. If she took a shower, did something with her hair, and put on a little makeup, she’d wake up everyone in the house. She could only hope that if Derrick saw her like this he didn’t scream and run.

She padded down the hallway and into the family room. Someone had left the kitchen light on during the night; she could at least see where she was going as a result.

Grandma’s family room was a rectangle shape. Between the couch and chair and Derrick, there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver. He’d shoved the coffee table that usually sat in front of the couch against the far wall to give himself a bit more room.

Derrick was sprawled out on the family room floor, hugging a pillow, and naked from the waist up. He was snoring. It wasn’t a delicate thing, but she smiled a little. She wondered if the sound had lulled her grandma to sleep last night. Grandma had mentioned several times before that Grandpa’s snoring had never bothered her, and that she still missed it—and him.

She smiled at the sunburst tattoo on Derrick’s shoulder. She peeked around the corner once more, and he didn’t stir. The iron stove was out of fuel.

Right now, she couldn’t get through the family room without either stepping on Derrick or waking him up. A few minutes later, he rolled over onto one side, effectively clearing a nice path for her to get through the family room without disturbing him. She added pellets to the stove as quietly as possible. He stirred a little, but he didn’t wake up. She waited until she’d tiptoed back out of the family room before letting out a sigh of relief.

She knew she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. Maybe she should find something to do for a couple of hours while Derrick slept. She made her way into the kitchen.

Her heart dropped as she surveyed the kitchen table. Her carefully arranged pile of opened letters was a bit messed up. An empty drinking glass sat next to them on the table. She moved closer. A folded-in-half piece of spiral notebook paper lay next to the letters. The note read:

Holly,

Whatever you’re doing with this, I want in
.

Derrick

She’d forgotten to put the letters away like Grandma asked before she went out with Derrick last night, and now she saw evidence that he had read at least one. The envelope to Michael’s letter lay on top of the smudged piece of notebook paper. She got up from the table and grabbed a cloth shopping bag for the already-stamped answers to go to the post office as soon as it quit snowing.

She had nobody to blame but herself for his having read at least one of the letters.

She sat down at the table and got to work, making notes on places she could start looking for Michael and his family. The printing on Michael’s letter looked more like a junior high student’s than a child in elementary school; she could call the principal later today. Noel’s Santa Claus was a friendly, retired gentleman who’d been doing the job for twenty years now. The kids who had come to see him in previous years were now bringing their own kids, and he remembered them all. The owner of Noel’s candy shop knew a lot of local children too. There had to be more places that kids hung out in this town besides the playground in the town square. She’d ask her grandma later if she had any more ideas.

Holly was so intent on responding to a letter from a young lady who had asked for a new American Girl doll, and clothes for the doll, from Santa that she didn’t hear Derrick’s footsteps until he walked into the kitchen. He was wearing the jeans he’d worn last night, and carried his scrunched-up T-shirt in one big fist. He pulled out the chair next to her, dropped into it, and regarded her with sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” he said.

“Good morning.”

Holly nudged the bag with the other letters under the opposite kitchen chair with one foot. She tried not to stare at his bare chest. It was a losing battle.

“Is there coffee?” he asked. He folded his arms on the table and laid his head on them. “Shit, I’m tired.”

“I’ll make you some,” she told him as she got up from the table to switch on the coffee pot.

“Mornings suck,” he groaned. “I fuc—flippin’ hate them.”

She turned away from him so he wouldn’t see her smile. He had the presence of mind to remember he was in someone else’s house, and her grandma might not appreciate a big, half-naked male wandering around, spouting the f-bomb at full volume before six
AM
. She remembered that Derrick didn’t care for waking up early from training camp. He was always sweet to her, but his teammates gave him a wide berth until he had at least one cup of coffee. She also remembered an interesting incident in which it looked like he and Drew McCoy were about to kill each other in the food line, so she decided that maybe she should hurry up with the coffee.

A few minutes later, the blessed sounds and scent of percolating coffee wafted through her grandma’s kitchen, and she took a look inside of the refrigerator to figure out what she could make for breakfast. Derrick was still head-down on the kitchen table and dozing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t drool on the letters, or even worse, try to read them.

“Derrick,” she said. “Do you want to go sleep in my room for a couple of hours?”

“With you? I accept,” he said.

She burst out laughing. He managed a grin in return.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Is there breakfast?”

“I’ll have to make some.”

“Do you have a cell phone charger? Mine’s in the Escalade.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I should stop being such a chickenshit and go get it,” he muttered. “It’s colder than a well digger’s ass out there.” He pulled his T-shirt on.

Holly was pretty used to the Sharks and language that would make most people want to wash Derrick’s mouth out with soap. Her grandma would probably pretend to be appalled and chuckle about it later.

The storm was still blowing snow against the kitchen window. It was too dark outside to see how deep it had gotten overnight, but the fact Holly still hadn’t heard a car pass Grandma’s house this morning told her that it was a lot worse than he knew out there.

“My charger may not work with your phone,” she said. “I still have a regular phone. You know, the kind that doesn’t get e-mails or anything.”

His lips turned up in a smile. “You’re the only one left,” he said.

“Maybe. I’ll go get it, and we’ll see if it works. Why don’t you think of what sounds good for breakfast in the meantime?” Holly grabbed the charger out of her purse and returned to the kitchen to find Derrick rummaging around in the refrigerator.

“Cold pizza works just fine,” he said, grabbing a slice of one of the pies he’d brought back to Grandma’s house. “You want some?”

“I’ll heat yours up if you’d like,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. I lived on cold pizza in college.” He took a huge bite, sat down at the table again, and chewed for a minute or two. “Aren’t you supposed to go to work this morning?”

“My boss called me earlier and told me to stay home. There’s no power on Main Street.” She pulled the phone out of her bathrobe pocket to take a look for any missed calls. “It must not be back on yet.”

“Good. You can spend the day with me,” he said.

D
ERRICK WAS STILL
a bit pissed off at the world. He hated mornings. So far, however, this one wasn’t bad. Holly was all smiles, compared to his grumpiness. He knew she had to be exhausted, but she was doing her best to make sure he was comfortable. Maybe he should get his ass off of the chair and see what he could do to help her.

She arrived back in the kitchen with her phone charger and put it down on the counter while she grabbed a couple of mugs out of the cupboard over the sink. “If your phone doesn’t fit it, you can use mine to make calls if you’d like. Do you want milk or sugar in your coffee?”