Chapter 238: Magic Hands

Holly's POV

Maybe I was just mad at him for what he said about Ava. Doesn't mean my feelings ar  fading…right?

Tyler’s arm was still locked around my waist as we turned away from David’s car, his grip tight enough that I could feel the heat of his palm through my dress.

We moved slowly, like we were putting on the final act of a play…two lovers heading home after a long night.

I didn’t dare glance back, but I could feel David’s stare drilling into us, hot and furious, the engine still idling like he couldn’t decide whether to peel out or storm over here and drag me away.

“Why isn’t he driving off?” I muttered under my breath, leaning into Tyler just enough to sell it.

Tyler dipped his head close to my ear, voice low and amused. “Maybe he’s waiting to see if you actually walk into my place. Proof we’re living together, right? So…you’re gonna have to come in for a minute. Just till he’s gone. Then you can sneak back to yours.”

I swallowed hard. “Fine. But only a minute.”

We climbed the steps to his front door in this awkward shuffle…his hand never leaving my waist, my heels clicking too loud on the concrete. My heart was hammering, and not just from the performance. What the hell was happening to me?

One minute I’m plotting ways to make David lose his mind with jealousy, and the next… I don’t even care if he’s jealous anymore? That hollow feeling from the car ride was still there, spreading like ice in my chest. David’s face when I slapped him flashed in my mind…shocked, hurt, angry…and instead of triumph, I just felt…tired.

No. I shook my head sharply, like I could physically toss the thought out. It has to be David. It’s always been David. Years of wanting him, hating him, wanting him again. I can’t just switch that off because some hot new guy with good manners decided to play along with my stupid game.

Tyler unlocked the door and ushered me inside, flipping on a soft lamp as we stepped into the foyer.

The second the door clicked shut, he let go of my waist to help me with my jacket, fingers brushing my shoulders as he slid it off. Then he took my bag, hanging everything neatly on a rack by the door like this was totally normal.

I just stood there, mouth half-open, staring around with wide eyes. David…who? The jealousy plan…who? Everything about the night vanished as I took in his house.

It was… stunning.

Not flashy-new-rich stunning, but that quiet, old-money kind of classy…dark wood floors that gleamed under warm lighting, high ceilings with subtle crown molding, a massive stone fireplace that looked like it had stories of its own. Leather armchairs that screamed comfort, bookshelves packed with actual books (not just decorative ones), and art on the walls that looked expensive but not pretentious. Soft rugs, fresh flowers on a side table, the faint scent of sandalwood in the air.

It was cozy but luxurious, like a high-end cabin crossed with a mansion. Way better than Kayla’s perfectly curated Instagram-worthy interior next door.

“Who are you anyway?” I blurted out, curiosity winning over everything else. “How can you afford to buy this place just like that? And it looks so amazing…better than Kayla’s interior!”

He paused on his way to the kitchen, turning back with a raised eyebrow. “Kayla?”

“She's Caden’s mom. My best friend…the one I'm living with. You should get to meet her one of these days. She's the absolute best.”

“Ah.” He smiled, that slow, easy smile that did annoying things to my stomach. “Got it. So about my identity… It’s a long story, but…you have to sit for this one.”

I glanced nervously out the front window. David’s car was still there, headlights off now, just a dark shape under the streetlight.

My pulse spiked. What if Tyler was a creep? What if I stay longer and he tries something? To be honest, I didn’t really know him that well. David had been right about that…our meeting was pure coincidence, and everything since had just been this whirlwind of fake-dating chaos. It was one thing to drag him into my mess for revenge, another to get comfy in his house alone at night.

What if he’s a serial killer or something? Dramatic, Holly, but still.

I peeked again. Finally…finally…David’s engine growled to life, and the car pulled away slowly, like he was dragging it out.

“Oh, he’s gone now,” I said quickly, already edging toward the door. “I guess I should head back to my own place.”

I didn’t even get two steps before Tyler was there, moving fast but gentle, his hand catching mine. His grip was warm, firm…not scary, just…steady. It made my nerves jangle in a way that wasn’t entirely bad.

“Hey, don’t go,” he said, voice soft and soothing, like he was talking me down from a ledge. “Didn’t you just ask me a bunch of questions? Don’t you wanna get to know your fake boyfriend a little better?”

I hesitated, guard still half-up, but something in his eyes…honest, playful…chipped at it. Just a little. I mean, it’s not like he could do anything crazy. I could scream loud enough to wake the whole block, and Kayla would probably call the cops in seconds. Plus…yeah, I was dying to know more about him.

“Just for a few minutes,” I whispered, letting him tug me deeper into the living room.

He handed me a steaming mug a minute later…hot cocoa, rich and perfect, with tiny marshmallows floating on top. I stared at it suspiciously, and he noticed, chuckling as he took a sip first.

“It’s not poisoned,” he whispered, eyes twinkling.

I felt my face heat up. “No, I didn’t think it was! I was just—”

“It’s okay, Holly,” he cut in gently, already heading back toward what looked like a hallway. “You’re just being careful. And I get it. As time goes on…when you’ve learned to trust me…this won’t even be a thing anymore.”

He disappeared for a minute, and I sank into the plush couch, sipping the cocoa (it was heavenly) and looking around again.

The room was all deep greens and warm browns, with a massive woven rug under the coffee table, crystal decanters on a sideboard that probably cost more than my car, and a record player in the corner like he actually listened to vinyl. Old money vibes for days…elegant, timeless, effortless.

Then he came back carrying a small tray…a bottle of scented oil…something lavender and eucalyptus, a soft towel, and a little bowl of warm water. My jaw dropped as he set it down.

“What…what are you playing at?” I laughed, half-shocked, half-giggling nervously.

He chuckled, low and warm, kneeling in front of me. “You’ve been in those killer heels all night. And you ran down, what, three flights of stairs in them earlier? Your feet deserve a break. A proper massage.”

Before I could protest…or even process…he grabbed a cushioned ottoman, pulled it right in front of me, and draped a soft throw blanket over my legs for modesty. Then he gently lifted one of my feet onto his lap, slipping off my heel like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My mouth was literally hanging open. “Tyler—”

“Relax, Holly,” he said, voice calm and teasing as he poured a little oil into his hands and started rubbing slow circles into my arch. “While I tell you my story.”

Oh my God. His hands were magic…strong but tender, thumbs pressing just right into the sore spots, easing the ache instantly. All my hesitation melted like butter. Who doesn’t love this kind of stuff?

I tried to focus on whatever he was about to say, not the way his voice wrapped around me or how insanely good it felt to be touched like this…like I mattered.

Jesus, Holly, what is wrong with you?