Six Month Rule (Kingston Ale House) (23 page)

February

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sophie bounced on Will’s lap while Holly snuggled under his arm. He listened as Holly pointed out the different constellations to his daughter. She showed them Castor and Pollux, the twins of her own sign, Gemini.

“And that’s Taurus,” she said, drawing with her finger in the sky. “Some see him as a raging bull, which means angry, but I don’t agree.”

Sophie giggled. “Because Daddy is a Taurus?”

Holly nodded. “He’s too loving and gentle for that. Don’t you think?”

Will groaned. “I can be cross if you girls want me to.” But it was no use. Because Will couldn’t imagine himself happier than he was in this very moment. It didn’t matter that it was unseasonably cold, Holly having brought the tail end of Chicago’s winter with her to London. He’d stay out on his front steps all night and long into the morning if it meant not interrupting this moment. The two people he loved most in the world were in his arms, and to top it off, they loved him right back.

A car slowed in front of his place, and when it came to a stop, Tara exited the driver’s side.

“Mummy!” Sophie said and sprang from Will’s lap so she could welcome her mum with a hug. Tara lifted their daughter up and onto her hip, but the seven-year-old girl barely fit there anymore.

“She’s growing up so quickly,” he said softly, and Holly wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed.

“You made that, you know,” she told him. “You made that perfect little girl, and she’ll grow up to be a lovely woman because of how you and Tara raised her.”

He sighed. He had never given himself much of the credit before, but he could see it better now—his own subtle influences on his daughter.

She came bounding back up the steps and wrapped him and Holly both in a hug.

“You can snog as soon as I leave,” she whispered to them both, and Will choked on a laugh.

Like that
, he thought.
Speaking before thinking.
He could take credit for that.

“Good night, Soph,” he said. “I love you.”

“Good night, Sophie,” Holly added. “See you in a couple weeks.”

Tara, still standing by the car, waved to them both.

“Nice to see you, Holly,” she said, and it nearly sounded sincere. “Good night, William.”

He waved back, as did Holly, and they watched her get Sophie situated in her seat before climbing back in and pulling away.

Holly picked up her mug and sipped. She licked the foam off her upper lip and grinned.

“I didn’t know what I’d signed up for coming over to your side of the pond,” she said. “I mean, I was expecting a tall, dark, and sexy Brit who’s also a wonderful father.” She sipped again, this time letting the foam remain so that she was now looking at him with a hazelnut soy mustache. “But a barista? Well, that’s just icing on the cake. Or—foam on the latte, I guess.”

He leaned over and kissed her, long and slow and sweet. Any remaining foam he swiped away with his thumb and then licked it clean.

“You had a little something,” he said, and she laughed. He’d never get tired of that sound. Or the fact that she was here—and not just on a visit. As Trousseau’s new partner and international scout, she was setting up shop in London for at least the next six months, if not indefinitely. After the success of the Tallulah Chan show, Andrea hadn’t wanted to take a step back. She wanted to expand.

Holly was running a hand through his hair now, and Will thought he’d never get tired of her touch, either.

“What about your sister?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“She and Jamie are applying for passports as we speak. As soon as I have my own place, they’ll be on the first plane to jolly old England. Jamie’s already planning a pub tour.”

Will nodded in approval, but this all still felt so surreal.

“What if you
don’t
find your own place?” he asked, a grin teasing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not easy to find a place to let for less than a year.”

His heart was racing. He knew it was too much. They’d only just gotten back together six weeks ago, and Holly had been in London for less than twelve hours.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m going to give you your space. First thing tomorrow we shop for a flat, just like we planned.”

She nudged his shoulder with her hers, biting that bottom lip like she did, driving him mad with the thought of her mouth and teeth—other places.

He shook his head. This was an important conversation. It was
not
the time to let his mind wander.

“My current visa is only for six months, enough time for me to scout the area and see if this is where the first satellite office should be. Andrea said it’s up to me, my call,” she said, grinning. “For some renters it’s a short time, but for
others
—it’s a big commitment. A lot can happen in six months, you know. Are you sure you want to commit to that?”

He pulled her closer, that heart of his doing ridiculous things in his chest as it realized what she was saying, that she was
staying
. Right here. With him. There was only one problem.

He kissed the cold tip of her nose and then each cheek, but he paused just centimeters from her lips.

“I have this rule,” he said, his voice low and soft, and he could hear Holly’s breath hitch. “Do you want to know what it is?”

She nodded.

“Just let me love you for as long as you’ll have me. Six months. Six years. Six decades. I’m a goner, Holly Chandler. You had me at last season’s Jimmy Choos.”

She pulled back and huffed out a breath.

“The shoes? Seriously, Will, you’re going to bring up the shoes? Honestly, you can be so—”

But she didn’t get to finish because he was kissing her again, and she was kissing him back, melting into his touch.

“Did you hear the part about me loving you for as long as you’ll let me?” he asked, lips still against hers.

“I did,” she said.

“Will you stay with me, in my home?” He hadn’t known he’d be asking her this. It wasn’t part of the plan. But now that he’d said it, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. “I don’t want to wake up without you for another morning, Holly. Not if I don’t have to.”

She nodded. “I will.”

He pulled away and stood, reaching a hand down for hers, but her hand was already on her phone, swiping open the screen.

“Gonna see what the astrologists have to say about my proposal—for you to
stay
here? Christ, I’m really not trying to rush you, Holly.”

It was bloody cold out, but his palms began to sweat. She still made him nervous, and he loved every second of it.

She shoved the phone into her pocket and picked up her mug before standing to meet him.

“I was. But…no,” she answered. “You’re living proof that I make my own magic now.”

His brows furrowed, but she didn’t say anything else, only grabbed his outstretched hand.

“
May I
escort you inside, Ms. Chandler?”

She squeezed his hand. Good sign. He hadn’t scared her off yet.

“You may,” she answered, smiling at him like she saw no one else. “And one other thing.”

“Anything,” he said.

“I’ll take six decades. Six decades of loving Will Evans. Where do I sign?”

He opened the door and led her inside, setting her mug on the side table by the door so he could wrap his arms around her hips and pull her close.

“I don’t have any official papers, but I’m sure we can think of some way to seal this deal.”

She laughed. “I’m sure we can.”

And they left a trail of clothing and shoes from the front door to Will’s room, to
their
room. Some of the items were this season, some last. But it didn’t matter, not when he had Holly winter, spring, summer, and autumn. She loved him, forgave him, and breathed new life into one that had forgotten how to breathe on its own.

She could wear any damn shoes she wanted, and he’d never say another word.

Well…as long as they were red.

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Acknowledgments

Thank you to my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan, for encouraging my
Sherlock
fandom—and also for your support of this series. When I said I wanted to try my hand at lighthearted adult romance, you told me to go for it. Now here we are.

Thanks to my fabulous editor, Karen Grove, for not only falling for Holly and Will and making their story oh so sparkly, but for your love of Lou Malnati’s and ice cream as well. I knew we were a good fit.

Lia Riley, Megan Erickson, Natalie Blitt, and Jennifer Blackwood, you are lifesavers day in and day out, as critique partners, as sanity preservers, and as my friends. I love you all.

S and C, I love you times infinity to the infinity power. There. I win.

And always, thank you to my wonderful readers who have shown me it’s never too late to chase a dream. Your support means the world.

About the Author

A. J. Pine
writes stories to break readers’ hearts, but don’t worry—she’ll mend them with a happily ever after. As an English teacher and a librarian, A. J. has always surrounded herself with books. All her favorites have one big commonality—romance. Naturally, the books she writes have the same. When she’s not writing, she’s of course reading. Then there’s online shopping (everything from groceries to shoes). And a tiny bit of TV where she nourishes her undying love of vampires, superheroes, and a certain high-functioning sociopath detective. You’ll also find her hanging with her family in the Chicago ’burbs.

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