Comeback (The Holland Brothers Book 3)

The first couple days living in my new apartment are surreal. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around the guys on the rare occasions we’re home at the same time. Which isn’t that often. They have practice and meetings at the stadium during the day and I head to work in the evenings. London works from home a lot, but other than her getting up for coffee breaks or to make lunch, the apartment is quiet with just the two of us home.

I know it’s only temporary, but I couldn’t have picked a better location. Work is a five-minute drive and there are lots of buildings within a fifteen-block radius that have office spaces for lease. Which is where I’m headed this morning.

The guys are home, judging by the music playing in Archer’s room. Anytime he’s home and awake, the floors vibrate with the bass coming from his big speakers.

I turn off my alarm and head out of my room, still blurry eyed, to shower and get ready. I come up short as I step out into the hallway and run into a tall, bare-chested man, holding only a towel around his middle.

Yelping, I try to move out of the way, but he does too, and we collide. My forearm slides against his wet torso and Archer grips me high up on my waist. His long fingers wrap around my ribs and his thumb is dangerously close to brushing against the swell of my breast.

I finally get a good look at the tattoo on his left arm. It’s all black ink work, objects drawn amidst a floral scene. Gorgeous. Just like the rest of his body.

We’re frozen. Neither of us seems to know how to get out of this situation gracefully. Is there a way?

“I can’t decide if this is more or less embarrassing than if you were Brogan,” I say, breathlessly but suddenly wide awake.

I step backward and look up slightly into his face. His hair sticks up like he ran the towel through it and his lashes are wet and darker, making his hazel eyes look brighter.

His expression is pinched, studying me carefully. “I know you said something, but I didn’t catch it.”

My gaze travels to the side of his face. His hair usually covers most of the hearing aids he wears on both ears, but with his hair messy, I can see he doesn’t have them in now.

“Nothing,” I say, and sign the word and add, “Sorry.”

He waits like he’s unsure if I’ll say more, then nods and steps around me.

Archer Holland is everywhere, and my nervous system is struggling to process every little interaction with him.

His music shaking the walls. His scent filling the bathroom. And now the image of him shirtless burning into my brain.

By the time I get out of the shower, I am significantly less frazzled. I get dressed and head out to the kitchen. Brogan sits at one of the stools next to London. She’s showing him something on the laptop and he has one arm on her back, rubbing small circles as she talks.

Archer looks up from the stove. We make eye contact, and I feel my cheeks flush. I need to get a freaking grip. I touched his pecs not his penis.

That said—his pecs were pretty incredible.

“Good morning,” I say, then drop my gaze and head over to the coffee pot.

“Morning.” Brogan looks up from London’s laptop. She does as well, giving me the same greeting.

“Is this coffee up for grabs?” I point to the half-empty carafe.

Brogan and London both look to Archer.

Brogan makes the sign for coffee.

“Help yourself,” Archer says to me. He’s wearing his hearing aids now. I can just see the one on the right through his dry, messy hair.

I pour myself a small cup, back to feeling awkward until Brogan leans his elbows on the counter and smiles at me. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“I’m meeting a realtor to look at some possible spaces for my studio.”

My brother’s smile widens. “That’s so cool. What ages are you thinking about teaching?”

“I’ve taught everything from mommy and me classes to adult tap lessons. I think I want my studio to focus on younger dancers, though. A fun, noncompetitive environment. There are already a bunch of studios here that have successful competitive dance teams so I’m not sure there’s a market for that and it’s a lot of pressure.”

“I’ll bet,” London says. “I watched every episode of Dance Moms. I’d never survive. Some adult classes would be fun though. I did jazz and ballet for a very short time. I remember enjoying it, even though I was basically a safety hazard with how uncoordinated I am.”

Brogan chuckles and kisses her temple.

My brain is overflowing with ideas, and I add adult classes as another one to ponder.

“Anything I can do to help?” Brogan asks. “I don’t have to be at the stadium until after noon. Do you want me to come with you to look at the spaces?”

“That’s so nice,” I say. “But my friend Olivia is going to come with me.”

The flash of disappointment that crosses his face makes me feel bad for not asking him. I honestly didn’t think that was something that he would be interested in, but I’m learning with Brogan, there’s really nothing that doesn’t interest him and he’s trying hard to be in my life.

“Next time,” I say, and his easy smile returns.

I have seen every available property in a thirty-mile radius. Or at least that’s how I feel.

I’m exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. And broke, apparently.

I had no idea how much money it was going to take to get a place with even a few of my must-have items. I abandoned the idea of a cute apartment upstairs in my studio after I saw the monthly lease price of the first office.

We’re in a cute neighborhood, not far from Brogan’s apartment, viewing a vacant office space. Nice size, recently painted, great visibility from the road, and there is an apartment building two blocks over. It would be perfect if I were unconstrained with things like money.

“I know it’s above your budget, but I wanted you to see something that was as close to hitting all your wish list items as possible.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. I know it isn’t her fault I have high expectations and low cashflow.

“What about that space on Fourth Street?” Olivia looks to me with a hopeful expression. She’s been such a good friend, coming with me and keeping me optimistic.

“It was too small,” I say of the unit we saw earlier today.

“And under contract.” Carrie Ann gives me a forced smile. “I got the email on the way over.”

My options are disappearing out from under me.

“Maybe I should wait until I save some more. I could get a job teaching at another studio.” Even as I say it, I don’t want that to be the answer.

We walk out of the building and linger on the sidewalk out front. It’s too bad. I really did like this area. There’s a yoga studio and a cute café across the street. And on the walk up, we passed a bank and a couple of clothing stores. I can picture myself popping out for lunch or coffee, staring out the studio’s windows and watching people pass by.

Carrie Ann looks as hopeful as she had when she showed me the first place despite my being near impossible to please.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” I’m about to thank her and slink off to my car. I need a nap.

“I do have one more idea.” She holds her phone in both hands in front of her and stares at me with unwavering optimism.

I don’t know if I can handle seeing any more spaces today. The disappointment is crushing.

“It’s just a couple blocks down.”

“And in my price range?” I ask.

She nods excitedly.

“Okay.” I let out a long breath. One more and then I’m calling it.

Carrie Ann struts ahead of us in her three-inch stilettos. She walks with purpose, leading us down one block and then to another.

She slows in front of the last building on the street. The nondescript front door blends in so well I probably would have walked right past it. I’m trying hard not to judge it before even going in, but among all the bright and shiny storefronts around it, it’s forgettable.

She glances back as she stops in front of the door. “Now keep an open mind.”

“That’s code for this place is sketchy,” Olivia mutters as Carrie Ann enters the code for the building.

“You think it’ll be sketchier than the place on Fourth Street?” I whisper back.

We share a smile. Today would have sucked a lot more if Olivia hadn’t been with me.

“Here we are,” Carrie Ann says as she pulls open the front door. Dust kicks up around us and Carrie Ann discreetly coughs.

“It’s been vacant for some time, but all these old buildings were built to last.”

Olivia and I cautiously follow behind her.

“It was gutted for resale, so there isn’t a lot here, but you can see where the dance floor was against those big windows,” she says as she walks through the empty office. The floors are concrete and the walls a grimy white, but I can see the faint outline where a dance floor might have been. “There are two bathrooms in the back and a small private office space. It doesn’t have the apartment you were looking for, but otherwise, it hits all your must haves. This location has seen a lot of growth in the past year. They put a new coffee and tea shop in across the street a few months ago and since then I’ve rented two more offices. It’s the best price per square foot you’ll find. Everything around it is at least double.”

“How is this still available?” Olivia asks.

“Why is it so cheap?” I ask.

“Eleanor, the owner, is…particular about the space. It’s been listed for ages, but she’s declined every offer she’s received.”

Olivia and I share a glance, and I ask, “Why?”

“The building means a lot to her. It has a certain sentimental value to her, but I think she’ll like you. Take a look around. I’m going to call her and see if she’s available to swing by.”

Carrie Ann walks back outside, and Olivia and I cautiously walk around.

Even with Carrie Ann gone, Olivia speaks quietly when she says, “This would be a great spot to hide a body.”

“It’s good to have a backup plan in case my studio doesn’t take off,” I whisper back with a smile.

Olivia snorts at that, then the worried expression returns to her face. I know it isn’t much, but the farther we walk, the more I can see it. It’s an end unit, which means there are windows at the front and on one side. Several of the windows are cracked or broken and have been boarded up from the inside. Those will need to be replaced, but the architecture is gorgeous. A little paint, a whole lot of scrubbing, floors, new windows… My stomach dips as I think about all the work to be done, but I can see it.

I can picture a barre along two walls, wooden flooring, music playing, children dancing and laughing. Maybe I’ve just seen so many overpriced options that I’m starting to hallucinate.

I trail behind Olivia as we reach the back of the space. We peer into the empty room that was previously used as a private office. I can’t imagine spending a lot of time in there, but it’s probably good to have one.

Carrie Ann returns as Olivia opens one of the bathroom doors. A mouse scurries out, squeaking as it crosses the room. My friend screeches and jumps back, and I won’t lie, my heart rate speeds up a notch or two.

Carrie Ann is the only one of us that isn’t at all thrown by the commotion. “Eleanor can’t meet today but she is excited about the space being a studio again. If you’re interested, we’ll submit an application, and she’ll want to meet you as part of the approval process.”

My voice wavers as my pulse returns to normal. “You mean, she’d consider renting to me?”

She nods and her lips curve into a smile. “I think she will. Any questions?”

My stomach flutters with nervous excitement as I shake my head. “How soon is she available?”