“Harlow?”
I don’t know why my greeting sounds like a question. Even with her back facing me, I know who is seated in front of me. She hasn’t left my thoughts the past four weeks, but seeing her now, on a date with a man I know visits this restaurant a minimum twice a week with a new woman on his arm every time, is tainting my fond memories with bitter ones. I’m not generally a jealous person. It’s an emotion I don’t have the energy for, but tonight, I’m bombarded with it.
I’ve been watching Harlow from afar the past hour. She and her date have barely held eye contact for longer than thirty seconds, but I’ve scrutinized every look they’ve exchanged. I’d be lying if I said every smile she awarded him didn’t grate my nerves. This man—I use the term loosely—doesn’t deserve Harlow’s attention. He’s so below her league, he should be grateful to serve her, much less dine with her.
Matthew is a leech. He attaches himself to women, sucks the life out of them, then moves on to his next target. He thinks his family wealth will excuse his poor behavior. He’s an idiot. Tonight, he got lucky. He’s sitting across from a woman whose values far exceed her wish to climb the social rankings. He might not be so lucky tomorrow. With family money comes a lifelong commitment of watching your back. And more times than not, the daggers thrown at you are from those closest to you.
When Harlow’s greenish-brown eyes shift my way, the unnatural rhythm my heart has been thudding all night switches to a whole new beat. She isn’t as angry as I anticipated. She looks pleased by the disturbance.
“Cormack! Oh my god, hi!”
The floral perfume she's wearing barely overpowers the smell of boiled sugar when she leaps to her feet to throw her arms around my neck. Her friendly greeting is unexpected but highly craved. I thought she’d be angry after our last tussle, so I’ve been avoiding her side of Ravenshoe as often as possible. That’s no easy feat considering I’ve driven past her bakery every single day the past month. I want to pretend her business is in direct route of my travels, but that isn’t the case. Tonight isn’t my first foray as a creep. I stepped into the role weeks ago.
Walking away from Harlow last month was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, even more so when I heard her whispered comment. No matter how much I try to deny the facts, they never alter. I don’t just want Harlow’s bakery. I want her as well—beneath me, beside me, eating dinner with me instead of a bigheaded banker with a seedy grin, but even a month of deliberation couldn’t work out how I can have both her and my dreams.
After curling her arm around my waist, Harlow shifts her eyes to Matthew, who is glaring at me in disdain. He’s as taken aback by Harlow’s friendly greeting as I am. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me happy. It makes me nearly as unstable as my heart rate from having Harlow’s generous breasts squashed against my arm.
“Matthew, this is a friend of mine, Cormack. Cormack, this is Matthew, partner at Stockton and Fetch, verified sports lover, and all-around Mommy’s boy.”
My eyes rocket to Harlow during her last confession. I expect her face to be filled with jest, but it isn’t. She is as serious as she was when she told me her decision not to attend college.
With a grin as mischievous as the glint in her eyes, she shoves me into the seat she just vacated. Before I can signal for the maître D to bring her another chair, two waiters arrive at her table. The tick my jaw held the past hour triples when aphrodisiac after aphrodisiac-laced food is placed in front of me. Oysters, watermelon, garlic, avocado and chili. If it has ever been mentioned as a food known to increase your libido, it's presented before me.
The quick clench of my fists rattles the dishware when Harlow’s date waggles his brows before puckering his lips at her. If Matthew thinks she's impressed by his bigoted ways, he's severely ill-informed. Harlow looks just as prepared to deck him as I am.
Harlow waits for the waiter to set down a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries drizzled with crushed nuts before standing midtable. With a clap of her hands, her eyes drift between Matthew and me.
“It seems like we’ve got everything in order for a fun and exciting night.” The sexy purr of her words would usually stiffen my cock, but seeing the lust detonate in Matthew’s eyes makes quick work of my hard-on. “Great food. Delicious wine.” My eyes snap to Harlow’s when she snarls, “And two men I can’t wait to see the back of.”
Ignoring Matthew’s gaped mouth, she snags an unopened bottle of vintage Dom Perignon from a wine bucket at my side and hooks it under her arm like she arrived with it. “I’d like to say it was lovely seeing you both, but since I’ve never been a fan of lying, I’ll just pray it doesn’t happen again any time soon.”
After a final grin that reveals she’s exerting constraint, she pivots on her heels and dashes for the exit. I’m so in awe of her sass, it takes me nearly a minute to chase her down. I thought I was rushing over to save her from the big bad wolf. That wasn’t the case. Not in the slightest. She didn’t need my help; she's more than capable of taking down unwanted attention herself. The way she put Matthew and me in our place verified what I needed confirmed last month. Our kiss would have never happened if she didn’t want it to. That confession alone increases my strides.
One of my biggest hang-ups about Harlow is how reckless she makes me. Just the thought of her believing I’m a man who takes what he wants without a second thought sent me to her bakery last month. I know firsthand how dangerous greed is, so I’d rather be seen as generous than a user. Although Harlow’s offer to forgo payment was kind, it was completely unnecessary. The makeshift bakeries my corporation placed around her are already financially strangling her. She can’t afford to give away her products, ethically or financially.
It takes scanning the packed sidewalks of Ravenshoe for nearly fifteen minutes before I locate Harlow. She is walking down a dimly lit alley a few blocks up from her bakery. The bottle of wine she stole has been cracked open and partly consumed, and her heels are dangling from her empty hand.
“Circle the block,” I advise Augustus before slipping out of my car.
My sneaky steps slow when Harlow’s singsong voice echoes down the alley. “Poor Matthew. Dissed twice in one night. If he wasn’t such an asshole, I’d feel sorry for him.”
The ruffle on her skirt swishes against her slim thighs when she spins around to face me. She doesn’t stop walking; she just paces backward. Considering she chugged down half a bottle of vintage wine in under twenty minutes, her steps are remarkably stable.
“Was Matthew not your cup of tea either? For how often you glanced his way tonight, I assumed I had competition.”
A faint smile cracks onto my lips. I wondered if she had spotted my inconspicuous gawp. Clearly, my intuition isn’t as bad as I thought. “You knew I was watching?”
The poor lighting can’t hide the glimmer in her eyes when she replies, “I knew you were spying on me.”
“I wasn’t spying. I was. . .” I stop talking, having no plausible defense. I didn’t start my night out to intentionally track her down. I was merely having dinner, but once I spotted her on a date, my creep factor grew exponentially.
“Jealous?” Harlow fills in. “Yeah, I gathered that.”
I don’t bother correcting her. Honesty doesn’t require correction. Watching Matthew seduce her with a big dumb grin on his face made me jealous. It was a foreign feeling, but unmistakable all the same.
Like my insolence can grow any bigger, I up the ante. “Is that why you went out with him? To make me jealous?”
Harlow laughs. “Of course I did.” I can barely hear her words over the sarcasm in her tone. “Because that’s what all desperate women do. We go on dates with jerks just to make the jerks we’re trying to avoid jealous.”
I quicken my strides when she spins on her heels and continues down the alley. “If he was such a jerk, why go out with him to begin with? Everyone in that restaurant could see you were way above his league, so why lower your standards?”
She rolls her eyes, not believing a word I speak. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I was testing out my jerk radar? It did have a glitch last month that took me a few days to work through, so I figured I better test if it was back in working order.”
Her tone is as snarky as earlier, but it can’t hide the hurt in her words.
“Harlow. . .”
Her eyes drop from the sky to me. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. You paid your dues, then you left, just like you said you were going to. I can’t be angry that you kept your word.”
I tug on her elbow to stop her strides. When her glistening eyes lock with mine, it makes what I'm about to say ten times harder. “You don’t understand. You should be glad I walked away because there’s so much more to this than just you and me.”
“I know,” she agrees, nodding. “There are lot of obstacles between us. You’re rich. I’m poor. You’re handsome. I’m average. You think I’m pathetic. I think you’re awesome. I get it. I do. You don’t need to spell it out for me.”
When she attempts to walk away from me for the second time, I firm my grip on her elbow. “It has nothing to do with any of those things, and you know it.”
She laughs as if I'm being funny. It isn’t a joyful laugh; it is full of agony and turmoil.
Her laughter stops when I say, “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to stay away from you. I’ve driven past your bakery every single day the past month. It’s not even on my route home! Why would I do that if I thought you were beneath me?”
“Because you like playing games—”
“Games are supposed to be fun, Harlow. This isn’t fun.”
I meant my comment in a metaphorical way, but Harlow doesn’t take it that way. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Entertainer. I’m so sorry to have ruined your good time.”
She shrugs out of my hold and continues down the alleyway. I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration before taking off after her—again. “You’re not hearing the words I’m speaking.”
“Then try English,” she replies, her pace quickening. “Because all you’re talking right now is bullshit. Our kiss—god, how can you deny that chemistry? I don’t care if you know someone for two years or two seconds, when you know, you know. I know! You’re just too scared to admit it!”
The slur of her words can’t lessen their impact to my gut. I saw the signs she’s referencing. They were so bright, they’re permanently burned into my retina, but I can’t do this. I can’t sacrifice everything I’ve been working toward since college on nothing but an impulse. I’m not impulsive. Every move I’ve made the past nine years was methodically thought out before it happened. I don’t act on a whim, but I'll admit, watching her walk away from me hurts more than a thousand scars.
Just before Harlow reaches the end of the alley, her steps come to a halt. It isn’t because she ran out of asphalt to pound. It's from me shouting, “I’m trying not to destroy you.”
My words are derived from fear but are as honest as they come. I don’t want to hurt her; that’s why I stayed away. It’s not just because I want to buy her bakery. It's so much more than that. Things I never want to share with her because I don’t want her to look at me differently. I like the man I am when I'm with her. She switched on a light inside me I thought had been extinguished years ago. I don’t want anything to taint that.
“You’re right. I'm scared. I’m scared of fucking this up, and I’m scared of hurting you. I’m not a monster, Harlow, but I am flawed in a way I never want you to see.”
After a short stretch of silence, Harlow pivots around to face me. Her steps are wobbly, but not from the alcohol she consumed tonight. It's from the raw honesty in my confession. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her, but having her comes at a cost. One I’m shit-scared of paying for the second time in my life.
“No one is perfect—”
“You are.”
“No, I'm not. I am far from it.” For the first time tonight, she walks toward me instead of away from me. “I let a stranger steal the land from beneath my feet without a single objection. One pathetic kiss, and he ruined me for any other man. How is that perfect?”
With her words reflecting thoughts I’ve had numerous times myself the past month, I’m left speechless. I was both angry and confused as to why I couldn’t make a measly business decision without her entering my thoughts first, and don’t even get me started on personal matters.
Harlow’s chest rises and falls in rhythm with mine when I take a step closer to her. “For one, our kiss wasn’t pathetic.”
Call me conceited, but with my ego still stinging from her underhanded comment, it demanded I rectify that situation first.
When Harlow attempts to fire back a remark, I press my finger against her lips. If I don’t say this now, I’ll never say it. “Two, I’ve got secrets, Harlow. Big ones. I need you to know that. And I need you to be okay with it. They may never get shared—ever. Can you live with that?”
I take in three deep breaths before removing my finger from her mouth. I’ve never thrown myself out there like this before, so I’m not entirely sure what to expect next. I’m hoping my honesty is a step in the right direction, but I’m praying it won’t open floodgates I don’t want opened just yet. When you're hiding secrets as massive as mine, you need months of ground work to soften the blow, not a paltry few days.
Just when I think Harlow will never speak, she answers me in a way I never saw coming. Her lips crash into mine. The electricity surging through my mouth keeps any worries I might have on the downlow.
I balk for barely a second before parting my lips to accept her kiss. Words aren’t needed when she expresses herself in our embrace. Her anger, her hurt, her desires. They’re all conveyed by the strokes of her tongue and the gentle movements of her lips.
I hold her face while returning her kiss with the same intensity. Everything I’ve wanted to tell her the past five weeks is said without words. I kiss her as if telling her and the horde of people passing us that she belongs to me. It isn’t for show. For the first time in years, I’m being the most honest I’ve ever been.
I don’t know how long we kiss for before Harlow pulls away. It's long enough the turmoil knotting my gut the past five weeks has completely unraveled, but not long enough for me to get my fill of her scrumptious mouth.
Harlow’s lusty eyes dance between mine as our lungs strive for air. Her lipstick-smeared mouth and wide eyes make her even more beautiful. I like this look on her. Lost, yet found.
“Did you feel it?” she asks, her tone too low for my liking. “Because if you don’t feel that same senseless, out of this world sensation I’m feeling, walk away. Run if you must, but don’t drag me alongside you. You can’t fear losing something you don’t have, but I’m already shit-scared of losing you. That’s not fair. You’re not playing fair.”
Her confession is a hit to my ego, but it’s one I can accept. I walked away from her last month only to demand she not walk away from me tonight. “I’m not trying to play you. I just don’t want either of us to get hurt.”
“Not all mistakes end badly. Look at my date with Matthew. That ended quite fittingly. Well, for me, anyway.”
Just hearing Matthew’s name should have jealousy rearing its ugly head, but the underlying message in her comment keeps it at bay. She’s not referring to the $200 bottle of wine she’s grasping in her hand. She means our kiss.
“I could hurt you.”
I expect my confession to knock the wind from her lungs, but it doesn’t. She’s so confident I won’t hurt her, she won’t even look into the possibility of it occurring.
“And my secrets? Can you push them aside as easily?”
I take a step back when she asks, “Did you kill a dog?”
“What?” Disbelief resonates in my tone.
The grin curving her lips makes me want to forget our entire conversation. “I’ve read every possible scenario you can imagine when it comes to relationships. The only time things ended badly was when a dog was killed. As long as you’ve never killed a dog, I can wait for your secrets to be revealed the old fashioned way.” Her beautiful breasts heave up and down as she struggles to hold in her giggle.
I kiss her again. It's either kiss or confess to my sins, so I go for the more pleasurable option.
“Kissing isn’t the answer to everything.” Her tone reveals she’s full of shit. If she had the means, she’d kiss her way to world peace.
When she slides her tongue along mine, I tug her closer, craving even more of her taste. She obliges with a needy groan, her chest flattening against mine as our tongues continue their arousing duel. The little sounds she is making blur my mind, instigating more recklessness.
I drop my lips to her earlobe. “I can promise you I’ve never killed a dog, but I can’t guarantee you’ll want to kiss me when you learn all the things I’ve done.”
“The journey of discovery is half the fun. Stop stealing the thunder before the clouds have even formed.”
Preventing my retort that the storm developed years ago, she returns her mouth to mine and kisses the living hell out of me. The tenderness of her kiss reveals her wish for me to be free from the burden I don’t deserve to carry. It's a kiss that feels like more than a kiss. It strips the chaos from my heart and lifts the negative thoughts from my mind. This is corny as fuck, but it's like we're making love with our mouths.
When Harlow breaks our kiss, I can think clearly again, but I’m so caught up in her unspoken promises, I’m feeling spontaneous.
“Have dinner with me?” I place a peppering of kisses across her temple and down her cheek. Her skin prickles with excitement when my lips cherish the curve of her jaw before lowering to suckle on her delicate neck. “I’ll cook for you. Show you my mad culinary skills.” A rare spark of confidence breaks through when I say, “They’re not as stellar as my kissing skills, but I promise I won’t poison you.”
“You want to cook for me?” The utter shock in her tone has me pulling back.
I study her carefully, ensuring it isn’t a bad shock crossing her gorgeous features. Confident it isn’t, I nod. The vein in her neck does a weird thud-thud, stop, thud-thud thing as she gasps in a sharp breath.
“Why?”
I shrug, acting as if it’s no big deal. It's a big deal—a fucking huge one. I’ve never invited anyone to my home before, but extending an invitation to Harlow seems as natural as my lungs breathing air.
Grasping a non-verbal reply isn’t cutting the mustard, I stammer out, “As a form of an apology. To show you I mean no harm.”
Even with worry returning to her eyes, Harlow murmurs, “When?”
Before my brain can conjure a single objection, I say, “Tonight.”
Harlow strives to maintain her fighting spirit. She ignores the vulnerability in my eyes that reveals I’m merely a man, proving nothing will scare her away. Her heart gave up the fight of pretending it couldn’t feel the insane pull between us the instant she laid her eyes on me. How do I know this? My heart did the exact same thing.
“It’s Sunday.”
I angle my head to the side and quirk my lips. “Do you not eat on Sundays?”
Her smirk reveals if her stomach wasn’t plastered to mine, she’d whack me in the gut. I’m tempted to kiss her again. It isn’t to wipe the toothy grin off her face, but to stop me from falling to her feet and begging for her scraps. I don’t know what it's about this woman, but all the defenses I use to keep myself out of situations like this are null and void around her.
“Have dinner with me?” I drop my eyes to her level before whispering, “Please.”
My plea seals the deal. As a fire ignites in her eyes, she nods. She isn’t giving me instant forgiveness; she’s merely giving me the ability to grovel more readily.
Happy to take up the task, I curl my hand over hers and guide us out of the alleyway. I’ve made too many mistakes to dwell on the nerves taking flight in my stomach, and I’m truly looking forward to having the chance to rectify them.
“Hold on.” She hops from foot to foot to slip on her heels before her hand darts up to wipe smears of lipstick from my mouth. “I’d hate for people to get the wrong idea.”
I yank away from her. “If wearing your lipstick tells men like Matthew you’re off the market, I’ll wear it with pride.”
Harlow freezes, more in awe than alarm. I can understand her stunned stance. Every revelation I’ve exposed tonight was delivered with a massive bout of shock. I hate the way she defuses me so quickly, but after so much time without surprise, it’s stupidly addictive. I like shocking her nearly as much as I enjoy kissing her.
Harlow’s frozen stance comes with an advantage. It allows me to see my Bentley rounding the corner. With a wave of my arm, I signal for Augustus to pull in front of us. Here it comes, an event I never anticipated, but am secretly looking forward to. For the first time in years, I’m going to listen to my heart instead of my head.