His reply came a few seconds later.
Now that I'm talking 2 U? A smile.
Wish U were wearing ME??
Only more than anything ever.
GOOD! U can wish but U can't touch. Bet U'll B the 1st 2 cave.
Really?? Good luck resisting THIS.
A picture accompanied the text, and a blush crept over her cheeks. He'd actually sent her a picture of his bare butt. Except another picture came in a few seconds later, only it was panned farther out, revealing the "crack" she'd previously seen was actually the line between his pressed-together knees.
His next text read, Dirty minded girl.
Grinning, she skipped to the next room. As she cleaned, she mentally checked out, operating on autopilot--dust, scrub, vacuum, make bed. Rinse/repeat with the next set of rooms. The only time she came alive was her break, when she texted Beck.
Her: This toilet is so big...so hard...
Beck: Yeah, baby. Yeah. Tell me more.
Her: It's so wet.
Beck: Now UR just being cruel. What's it wearing? Describe in minute detail.
She laughed. This man...oh, this man.
When she knocked on the door of her final room, she realized she'd worked twelve hours straight. A first for her, and it felt good. Look how far she'd come. From impoverished and down on her luck to making a living without help from anyone. She now had two jobs, one an outlet for her art, her greatest passion. Well, maybe not her greatest. Not any longer. She had Beck...for the moment, at least.
The temporariness of their arrangement was the only wrench in a seemingly glorious future.
Tawny Ferguson opened up and glared all kinds of hatred at her. Scott Cameron--her cousin--stood behind her, grinning a big bad wolf grin.
You've got to be kidding me. "I just came to tell you I'm done for the day. Your room will have to wait."
"Ha! You're done when we say you're done." Tawny eyed her up and down and sneered. "When Scott called and told me you were here, well, I rushed right over and managed to snag the last room. I expect to get my money's worth."
Or, you know, revenge. "You expect to punish me for dating Beck." There was no way Harlow would allow these two to critique and complain about everything she did.
"He's not yours, bitch." Tawny drew back her hand. To slap Harlow across the face?
Scott caught his cousin by the elbow, stopping her.
"Let Harlow make the first move. Carol will be forced to fire her."
"Bitch," the blonde snapped again. "Beck will get tired of you soon enough."
"Maybe, but we both know he's already tired of you." Harlow retreated a step, intending to go.
Scott released his cousin to grab Harlow's wrist, keeping her in place.
"Let me go," Harlow demanded. "Now."
"Let her go, or die." Beck's voice growled from down the hall.
Gasping, she spun. He strode toward her with Dottie at his side. Worry clouded the girl's face. Rage darkened Beck's. Scott let her go as if she'd just caught fire.
"Beck," Tawny said, fluffing her hair. "It's wonderful to see you."
"I cleaned this room earlier," Dottie said.
"Yeah, but my cousin paid for--" Scott began.
"The works? I just reimbursed her." Beck threw a wad of cash at the twosome before claiming Harlow's hand and focusing on Scott. "My girlfriend's shift is officially over. I suggest you leave. If you're still here in the morning, I'll take that to mean you'd love to continue our previous chat." Tawny he simply ignored, and the girl withered before Harlow's gaze.
Almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
As Beck tugged Harlow away, taking her the way he'd just come, she sought Dottie with her gaze. "Thank you," she mouthed.
The girl offered a hesitant but genuine smile.
"You okay?" Beck asked.
"I'm fine, really, but thanks for the white-knight rescue."
"Just one of the many services I offer in my boyfriend package." He released a heavy breath. "Scott is lucky I've learned the value of restraint."
"Yeah," she said. "So lucky."
He stopped and faced her, his lips quirking at the corners. "You mocking me, baby?"
"Me? Never." The old-fashioned ambience of the place framed him--lace doilies surrounded each of the strawberry photos, everything surrounded by pink-and-yellow-striped wallpaper. He was a male made even more masculine around beautiful, feminine things, his strength all the more evident, and keeping her hands off him required major effort. "You're worked into a foaming-at-the-mouth man-frenzy, and I love it."
"I bet you'll love this, too." He backed her into the wall. Only a whisper away, she breathed his breath as he breathed hers, the knowledge causing her to inhale and exhale harder and faster, her heart drumming frantically.
"I'm waiting," she said, arching her hips to rub against him. "Make your move so I can turn you down."
His nostrils flared. "You're already on the verge of begging for more."
"So are you."
"I am. So, if you want to go on that date, we have to leave now. Otherwise I'm going to carry you to our room."
Her knees almost buckled. "I... I want to go on our date," she forced herself to say. No matter the aches in her body, dating him was important to her.
A moment passed before he gave a stiff nod. "Very well." He backed away from her, extended his hand. "Where have you been staying? We'll grab your things."
Oh...crap. A flare of panic hit her as she twined their fingers. "That's not important right now."
Immediate suspicion crossed his features. "Where?" he insisted.
She didn't want to answer and wouldn't lie. Besides, the stubborn man wouldn't quit until he knew the truth. "First on Dane Michaelson's land, then behind the church," she admitted on a sigh. "In a tent."
He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Brook Lynn hinted as much. I didn't want to believe her."
His eyes closed, his face suddenly ravaged with pain. "I never should have kicked you out and forced you back into a tent. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive myself."
She touched his face, making him look at her. "We both made mistakes."
"You merely reacted to mine, but I vow to you here and now, you'll never have to spend another night in a tent ever again. I've set up a trust for you."
"A trust? Are you kidding me?"
"No. And you're going to take the money and like it."
"I most certainly will."
He waited for her to finish the sentence, to add "not." But she didn't, and he realized she had, in fact, accepted. "Okay, then. Glad we got that settled."
"If you want to spend your money on me, I'll let you," she said. Pride wasn't going to stand in the way of her future any longer.
He laughed and muttered, "I will never understand you, will I?" then kicked into motion, dragging her with him. "You're staying with me if I have to tie you down."
"Kinky, but there's no way I'm letting you do that."
"I look forward to your attempts to stop me."
Harlow knew her hard limits and knew if she and Beck wrestled, she'd be the one to cave. "Fine. I'll stay in your hotel room."
"With me."
"Alone."
Brow arched, he cast her a glance. "Are you not confident in your ability to resist me?"
No! Even now she burned for him. To distract them both, she said, "If we go on a date tonight--"
"If?"
"We have to actually go out," she continued. "To dinner, at the very least. And you have to pay for everything."
"Pay for everything? Baby, I only ever go Dutch."
Hardly. "Everything," she insisted.
"Fine. I'll pay for everything. Do you see how accommodating I can be?" He released a heavy sigh. "If only you were as easygoing as I am, willing to compromise about the room."
She swallowed a grin. "Very well. You can stay in the room with me, but you'll have to sleep on the floor."
"Certainly. After we have the most amazi
ng sex of your life."
Incorrigible male. "I don't put out on first dates." Instead of stopping at the very room under discussion, he dragged her out of the inn. The sun was in the process of setting, the big ball of fire turning the sky into a canvas lit up with different shades of pink, purple and gold.
As they strolled down the sidewalk, realization hit. "Wait," Harlow said. "Where are we going?"
"On our date, of course."
She dug in her heels. "We can't go on our date right now. I'm wearing scrubs."
"It's not my problem you decided to dress down for the occasion."
Note to self: when Beck goes to war, he fights dirty. "As I'm sure you know, a girl is more likely to fall for a man's seduction if she's feeling sexy."
"Since you've already decided not to put out, that hardly matters in your case." He paused in front of Two Farms, peering down at her with sizzling hunger he couldn't quite contain. Voice low and husky, he said, "Have I told you yet how sexy you are right now?"
"Incorrigible," she muttered.
"Just desperate for you." He lowered his head, feeding her the kiss every girl dreamed of receiving, deep and intense, as if he'd never tasted anything so sweet and he had no intention of ever stopping. But just as she reached for him--so weak, not even trying to resist--he pulled away to lead her inside, leaving her panting, reeling.
"Table for two in back. Preferably a shadowed corner so no one will be able to see what I'm doing with my hands," he told the hostess, a girl in her early twenties who stood there staring at him for several long, embarrassing moments.
Know how she feels. Harlow tapped the girl on the shoulder and in a stage whisper, said, "He has gas." She shrugged then, as if to say, What can you do?
The girl withered with disappointment. "This way, y'all."
Beck tapped Harlow's butt cheek as they followed, whispering, "Really, darling? You went with noxious odors?"
His next tap had a bit more bite, and she giggled like the carefree girl she'd never before been.
Several of the patrons noticed Beck and waved him over. He pretended not to notice.
The hostess motioned to a small round booth in the corner. Harlow slid to the center, and Beck moved in close beside her; they accepted their menus. Though Harlow had lived in Strawberry Valley all her life, she'd eaten here only once, with Brook Lynn and the girls. She remembered nothing about the food.
Beck's heavy arm wound around her shoulders. "I'm sure you're dying to know how my dates usually go and lucky for you, I'm going to tell you. I order for both of us, I ask questions about your past, and then we go back to your place or mine."
"Mostly yours," she grumbled.
"But that isn't how this date will go down."
Insulted, she gasped out, "Well, why not? And just so you know, this date is now shaping up to be the opposite of awesome and I will share my review with all the women in town."
The waitress was close in age to the hostess and arrived with an overbright smile, doing her best to keep her distance while still being heard. "What can I get you guys to drink?" It was clear she'd pulled down the collar of her shirt and pushed up her boobs to accentuate her massive cleavage.
Beck's attention went straight to her eyes. "We'll start with your best red. We'll have today's special, whatever it is, and other than the delivery of each item, assume we're fine and stay away."
The girl appeared relieved as she ambled off. Harlow couldn't believe Beck had been so rude to a female. He hadn't even laced his words with innuendo.
Did he have a fever?
"I thought you weren't ordering for me," Harlow said.
Beck cupped the back of her neck, a possessive action she loved, toying with her hair. "Here's how this evening is going to go. I'm placing my balls in your court, and yes, I hope you take that several ways. You can question me about my past, and I will answer truthfully, no matter how personal you get. You may continue until the end of the meal, when I will take over."
Unrestricted access to his past? Even for a limited time? Yes, please. "I agree to your terms. But you only get to ask me one question a day." That way, he would have something new to look forward to--other than sex.
"Two questions."
"Zero."
His lips quirked at the corners. "All right. One question a day."
Excitement and anticipation built to a crescendo as the waitress rushed back over with the wine. Harlow confiscated the bottle and shooed her away. As soon as she and Beck were alone, she let the red gush into the glasses and decided to start with easy questions to warm him up a bit.
"What's your favorite color?"
He kissed the top of her eyelid. "Since meeting you? Ocean-water blue."
I may be putting out, after all. "Favorite food."
"You."
Heat spilled over her cheeks. "Beck."
"What? I said I'd be honest."
"Then you should have gone with pie."
"Baby, you're sweeter than pie, and that's a fact."
Moving on, before she took his mouth with her own. "What's your favorite memory?"
"Being inside you." He swirled his wine before tossing it back.
"One-track mind," she said, and tsk-tsked. Also a dangerously bone-melting answer, just not the kind of info she was looking for. "Worst memory. And if you say losing me, I will probably kiss you, and then I will definitely slap you."
"A warning like that is also known as encouragement," he said with a wink. But he set his glass aside and drained hers.
"The memory's that bad, huh?"
When his fingers laced with hers, she felt a tremor flow through him.
"Beck," she said. "Whatever it is, I won't judge you, I promise."
His lips lifted in a humorless smile. He leaned into her, saying quietly, "I'm sure you heard the rumors about Jase. He went to prison for beating a guy to death when we were eighteen...but here's what you don't know. I was with him when it happened. I was part of it."
The pronouncement didn't exactly shock her, but it did give her pause. Sweet, flirtatious, helpful Beck had beaten a guy to death? "Why? I mean I heard Jase defended a girl's honor."
"He did. We all did. We had a friend. Tessa. Jase and I loved her like a sister. West loved her. One night she went to a party, and a guy assaulted her."
Harlow's scars began to ache in sympathy. "I'm so sorry."
"We went after the guy, beat him and just didn't stop. He died from his injuries. Jase took full responsibility. Nine years behind bars. I could have come forward at any time to alleviate his burden, but never did."
"Why?"
"The three of us, we've always lived by a code--do whatever's asked by the others, no questions. For the longest time, we had no one to rely on but each other. We each knew loss and regret and needed someone we could count on no matter what."
Her mother had been the one she counted on, supporting her through the worst of times. She understood the need.
"You suffered your own punishment, I'm sure. Violence of any kind leaves a mark, whether on the skin or in the soul."
Beck squeezed her hand, almost hard enough to bruise. "What you endured hurts me in a way I never imagined possible. You did not deserve what was done to you."
The waitress arrived with their dinner, piping-hot bowls of chicken and dumplings. Delightful scents combined with perfect harmony: bread yeast, sweet vegetables and the cream in the sauce.
"Is what I did a deal breaker?" Beck asked as soon as the girl was out of earshot.
Was it? He'd committed the crime as a teenager. Eighteen, old enough to know better. But what if he held her crimes against her? She hadn't killed anyone physically, but she'd certainly killed a few spirits.
"No," she said and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Eat, Harlow. Please." He caressed her cheek. "You've lost weight."
Weight she couldn't afford to lose. She took a bite, then another, then paused as she recalled the clock on their conversation. "You still w
restle with guilt over the crime," she said, a statement, not a question. "And over Jase. Right?"
"Yes."
Learning about his past was helping her connect the dots to his present--and his future. Maybe he didn't think he deserved a happily-ever-after.
"Do you--" He pushed her bowl closer to her, and she took another bite before finishing her question. "Do you think you'll ever get married?"
"There was a time I would have said no. Now? I won't rule out the possibility."
It was progress. More than she'd dreamed, considering he hoped to protect a fragile heart that had been battered and bruised countless times as he was taken from foster homes he'd come to love. As Jase was taken from him, and he couldn't allow himself to help.
"Do you want kids?" When she'd imagined herself married to Prince Charming, she'd also imagined a brood of rug rats.
But if she didn't end up with the right man, that dream family would simply fall apart, wouldn't it?
"I never wanted kids with a one-night stand, but again, I won't rule out the possibility any longer." He arched a brow. "Deal breaker?"
"No." As much has she loved him, she wasn't sure anything would be a deal breaker.
He smiled at her.
She swallowed the last bite of her meal and opened her mouth to ask her next question.
"Sorry, baby, but it's too late. You're done eating. It's my turn now."
Well, crap. She should have eaten slower. "Ask your one question," she said.
"For the information I crave, we need to be alone." He leaned into her and nibbled on her earlobe. "Let's go back to the inn."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BECK MADE A PALLET on the floor.
Harlow demanded to know his question again and again, but he said, "In a minute," every time. Under her watchful gaze, he slowly stripped to his underwear.
"Those muscles don't fight fair," she grumbled.
"And you think those legs of yours do?" He got as comfortable as possible, considering desire burned in his bones.
She snuggled comfortably in bed and switched off the lamp, throwing shadows over the room.
"While you're up there on that cold, hard bed, I'm down here on these soft-as-silk sheets." Silk, sandpaper--whatever. "It's like you're punishing yourself when I only want to pamper you."
"Nice try, Becky, but I'm not buying the bull you're selling."
He covered his smile, realized she couldn't see him and let it stretch wide. "Becky? That's the nickname I get?"
"Hate it?" Relish dripped from her tone.
"Darling, it's absolutely perfect. Come down here and let your good friend Becky keep you safe all night."