Holding On (Road House Series) Read Online Free Page B

anything like she expected. Everything about Sarah just seemed so larger than life. She almost expected it to be bright pink with neon flashing lights. Not the very normal house they had pulled up to.
    Pretty white flowers raced along the sidewalk. The house itself was white with a light yellow trim. Everything about it was storybook. Was there a witch inside who would try and bake them?
    A plump middle age women greeted them at the door. Wisps of mousy brown hair fell into her eyes, and she tried to tame the tresses.
    "Hello, dear. You're mother isn't home yet, but Jake should be bringing her home soon." She glanced at Iris and Pan with an open smile.
    "That's great," Sarah said as she stepped through the door. "These are my friends Pan and Iris. We're going to get ready for tonight together."
    "Sounds like fun. Just go on upstairs and make yourself at home."
    "Nice to meet you and thank you for opening your home to us." Iris thrust her hand out.
    Patty reached out and patted her cheek. "Good heavens, this one sure is wound tight." She gave a wink to Sarah. "You are very welcome, hun. I have a feeling you could use a night out."
    Pan burst out laughing. "I like you."
    Patty shifted her sharp gaze to Pan. "Ah, a kindred spirit. Word of advice, don't bury yourself too far in that shell."
    Pan froze where she stood, clearly shocked.
    "Well now, on that note, let's go get ready," Sarah said and led the way up the stairs to her room. “Kay, let’s get started.”
    Iris grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, she leaned on the sink.
    “What am I doing?” she whispered.
    She struggled with her role in life. For so long, she had been the one to take care of Pan. Her uncle had been a perfectly nice man, but someone who lives by themselves for seventy years doesn’t suddenly become a man that deals with family crap. But she was just happy to have a place to go. It had been a worry that they might have to go to a foster home or worse, be split up. Having to live with Uncle Byron was the easiest solution.
    The two had learned the ropes at the shop and tried to stay out of trouble. Maybe Pan a little less but regardless, there had never been any law involved, and she had at least graduated high school. Iris, on the other hand, well, just didn’t do much of anything. Most of her time was spent studying or in the shop.
    She sighed. There was no way she was equipped to take on Luc. The man seeped testosterone out of every pore. Not to mention all the issues. She just couldn’t understand why he would even go through all the surgeries or why he would even think he needed to. The scar wasn’t him. The event that caused the scar certainly was a part of him, but the scar was just the physical proof of his service to his country. Her heart twisted at the cruel way he was rejected.
    She traced on her face the line of his scar and shivered when she pictured touching him. It had been nice. Not that she had many experiences to compare it to but, well, it had been way more than nice. Before he jerked away, she had been so very close to seeing stars. Something nibbled at the back of her mind. What had she been doing just before he went running? Her hand stopped mid-trace. She had touched the scar.
    Iris stared at her reflection. He had rejected her before she could reject him. The sensitivity from the scar must have reminded him of everything Victoria said.
    The smile that broke out on her face couldn’t be mistaken. Luc liked her. Liked her enough that he felt he had to distance himself from her. Her heart raced at the thought.
    For once, she was caught up in something, and she’d be damned if she let him slip away. Luc was about to meet his match.
    Iris quickly put on the matching bra and panties set she had bought, zipped the leather skirt and slipped on the blouse. She did a little turn in the mirror and liked the result, but her hair and makeup were all wrong. Too much stern librarian, not enough va va va voom.
    The