Wade
It’s the crack of dawn and I can’t stop thinking about Harlow. About standing in that bathroom last night with her fingertips burning into the bare skin of my side and those deep brown eyes peering up into mine.
Good thing she turned away when she did, because I was about to do something epically stupid. And I don’t want to be that guy for her.
I want to be a good guy. Not the jerk who convinced her to help me out, only to pay her back by putting moves on her two days into a ten-day favor.
Thing is, it would be a hell of a lot easier to be good if every now and then she didn’t look like she might be thinking something bad.
Keyword there being might. As in, also might not.
Outside of this week, I’m not a guy who holds back, waiting to see how things play out. I’m a guy who goes after what I want.
The girl, the game, the puck. Whatever it is. I don’t mess around.
If Harlow had been giving me those eyes under any circumstances other than these, I would have had my mouth on hers within a blink. I would have—
Nope.
I’m not going to be the douche lying here getting hard thinking about her mouth and all the ways I want to play with it. What those lush lips might taste like. How soft and sweet they’d be parting beneath mine. What it would be like wrapping my hand in the thick silk of her hair and backing her up to the bathroom wall—no, the shower wall—while foamy soap slips between us, trailing over her tits and down to her—
Fuck! Don’t think about her like that when she’s one freaking Saltine-cracker-thin wall away.
I take a deep breath, concentrating on the three springs grating against my spine, hip, and shoulder instead of shower scenarios that might have been until I think I might be facing a career-ending injury if I don’t move.
I roll to my side, cringing at the screech of the springs beneath me.
And there’s the laugh.
“Sorry ’bout that.”
“I was already awake. Just giving you some extra sleep if you needed it.”
“Nah, I’m set.” Total lie. I could probably use about six more hours. But that’s not happening now. And not just because of the bed.
There’s some rustling from the other side of the wall and then Harlow’s standing in the open arch between our rooms.
Jesus, she’s beautiful. That inky hair falling around her shoulders in sleep-mussed sexiness. Her golden skin and bottomless eyes devoid of any makeup. And those conservative button-down PJs clinging to her curves in a way that has me pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to rub the faint outline of her nipples against the fabric from my mind.
Be the good guy.
“How’d you sleep?” Better than me, I hope. But as I search for any hint of a shadow or bag under her eyes, a shitty part of me might be just a smidge bummed to see that she looks perfectly rested. Like she didn’t lose a wink of sleep thinking about that moment in the bathroom last night.
“Great. In fact, I’m ready to run if you are,” she says with a bounce and a smile. “We don’t have anything scheduled for this morning, do we?”
Another ding to the ego. Sorry, buddy.
“Lunch with Walt and Janie at noon.”
“Plenty of time then. I’ll change first and meet you out front when you’re ready.”
Harlow
I had to get out of that room.
After tossing and turning half the night, staring at the ceiling, staring at the bathroom door, then staring at my phone when I realized staring was all I was going to be able to do—I couldn’t take it another minute.
I’d just been creeping out of bed, hoping to change into my running gear and slink out before he woke up when the bed from Hell broadcast that Wade was awake. So my slinking plan was out the window and there wasn’t any choice but to brave a visit to his side of the suite and see for myself whether there was anything weird lingering between us.
Newsflash: there wasn’t. Not from his side anyway.
It was just Wade being Wade. No weighted pauses. No big, muscley hockey player prowling out of bed to back me into my room. Just a nice smile and a guy making plans for the day with his fake girlfriend.
Perfect.
Ten minutes later, he meets me on the grassy strip in front of the truck. And ten minutes after that, we’re stretched and chatting as easily as we have all along.
It’s another beautiful morning, and when we get out to the old Enderson water tower, instead of just running around it, Wade stops and gives me that too-tempting grin. “You afraid of heights?”
He cocks his head toward the tower, a dare gleaming in his eyes.
I love climbing. It’s something I picked up imagining, like golf, skiing, and tennis, it would be as good a skill to have in business as my MBA. So far the only use I’ve had for it is my own enjoyment, but that’s plenty.
“We’re going up? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Yep. And I wouldn’t recommend it anywhere other than Enderson. But here… Well, it’s the best view in town, and let’s just say I’ve got one last free pass.” Wade bites his bottom lip and then pulls a face. “But you can’t tell anyone. For real. This is the only thing I do that breaks the rules. And my dad’s buddy has been looking the other way since I was in high school. We have permission. So if you want to… we can.”
I’ve never done anything like that before… I don’t walk outside the lines. Ever. But for some reason, this man brings out a part of me that wants to grab hold of the adventure and just say yes.
“I’d love to.”
A few minutes later, I’m rubbing my hands against my shorts as I sit over the treetops, rolling fields, and a handful of lakes with my feet dangling so high above the ground it feels like I’m flying.
“You weren’t kidding. It’s gorgeous up here.”
“This is my favorite spot. Where I always came to think when I had a decision to make.” Wade leans back on his arms with a peaceful smile. “Sometimes it was serious stuff, like how to handle hockey and football and what I wanted for my future. Sometimes it was about a girl.”
My jaw drops. “Oh my God, Wade, is this a historic make-out point we’re visiting? Is this where you brought your girls?”
He laughs as a breeze plays through his hair.
“Believe it or not, you’re the first person I’ve ever brought up here.”
That’s not the answer I’m expecting, and a shiver tickles over my arms that has nothing to do with the moving air. “Why bring me?”
“You’ve given me this week back. And pretty sure I promised you some fun. Said I’d show you the best Enderson has to offer. Ask me? This is it.”
“Well, thank you.”
We stay there a while, talking about popcorn and people who mix candy into it, what to do on rainy days, and how he thinks I might be a secret jock. He’s nuts and he’s kind of wonderful. Then after we climb down, we walk back to the hotel, taking our time. No rush. No hurry. No emails or regulatory meetings. Just talking and laughing and me trying not to notice how different it feels to be with him than it’s ever felt with a guy before.
Harlow
“I thought there was a rule about no touching?” Janie asks a few hours later, swirling a fry through her ketchup at our table in Sonny’s Café. It seems like half the town stopped over to say hello to Wade when we first walked in… and even more to check in with Walt and Janie about the wedding.
She holds it up, and Walt leans over and takes it from her fingers with his mouth. They are ridiculously cute together.
“No touching the girls. The other way around though?” He winces at his brother. “Even, so, last night wasn’t normal. Bro, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”
Wade shrugs.
Walt turns to me with earnest eyes. “You should have seen this guy putting her off like a champ. Typical Wade, trying to be polite. Doesn’t want to be a dick or make a scene. Had to be a solid twenty minutes he kept setting this chick back from him with all the ‘No, thank you’s and ‘Sorry, I have a girlfriend’ business.”
I bite my lip, imagining Wade trying to fight off yet another woman’s unwanted advances. Then leaning into his side, I ask, “Sort of a running theme with you, huh?”
He lets out a low laugh, our secret hanging in that look between us. “Too bad you weren’t there to help me out.”
“Too bad.”
And then he turns to his brother, who’s watching us like he’s never seen Wade flirt with a girl in his life. “No big deal. I mean, it all worked out in the end… Harlow helped me wash off all those hard-to-reach places.”
The bounce of his eyebrows suggests he’s talking about something more than me standing with him in the bathroom, and all I can do is laugh.
Janie rolls her eyes, giving her fiancé a shoulder bump. “Oh my God, with these two! Harlow, have you got siblings?”
“A brother, older by five years. Or half-brother. My dad’s been married a few times. But between the age difference and rarely being in the same house, we’re not close like these guys.” Not to mention that we couldn’t be less alike.
“That’s too bad,” Walt says, going after another fry. “He didn’t get along with your mom?”
I take a sip of my iced tea, searching for an easy answer that won’t invite more questions. But short of lying, there isn’t one. “Actually, I don’t know how they got along. My mother was killed in a car accident when I was an infant.”
Wade reaches for my hand as Walt and Janie both tell me how sorry they are for my loss and I try to make them feel better about bringing it up.
“So you never knew your mother?” Janie asks, her eyes misty.
“Not really. I know things about her, of course. She was from Tamil Nadu in India and met my father while she was studying at the London School of Economics. They were married within months.” And she was dead within a year.
I don’t offer that last detail. It gives too much of the math away.
My father married my mother when she was pregnant with me.
I don’t mention that I’m fairly confident he resented her for it. Or that it sometimes makes me sad to think about what that last year of her life might have been like living with a man who can’t be bothered to hide his resentment for the people who inconvenience him. Or that what I just shared with them is the sum total of what I know about my mother.
Janie leaves her seat and, coming over beside mine, pulls me into a hug. It’s so unexpected, so sweet and kind, I’m a little choked up when she pulls back.
“Did your dad marry again? Do you have a stepmom?” she asks, sliding back into her seat and beneath Walt’s waiting arm.
“No. My mother was wife number three. And my father… Honestly, if it’s not business, it doesn’t really make his radar.”
This is the kind of conversation I do anything to avoid. It’s why I’ve always been a good listener and tend to ask more questions about others than I offer information about myself. I don’t want to have to explain about the string of nannies who were as cool and detached as my father or why the only pictures of me from when I was a kid are the ones my teachers took at school.
I don’t like feeling like the freak outcast, and the truth is, I can fake not being one with the best of them. Just so long as people don’t ask me too many questions. Like how we celebrate holidays or what family vacations we’ve taken.
I take another long swallow of my tea and then throw a hand up like some exciting idea just came to me. “Hey, what’s happening tonight? More wedding prep?”
Walt flags our server for the check and then flips Wade off when he tries to pick it up. “Everyone’s heading over to the Den tonight. What do you say?”
Wade turns to me, brow raised in question. “What do you think, Good Girl? You up for some Enderson nightlife?”
I make a show of thinking it over. “I don’t know, is this the kind of place where you’ll be coming home with your shirt in tatters again?”
He gives me a grin-wink combo that’s probably been setting panties on fire since the first time he stumbled on it. “Not unless you’re the one tearing it off.”