“My mom and dad,” Harlen says, and I feel a tear slide down my cheek, watching it land on the photo, and I quickly swipe the drop away. “Christ, baby.” His voice is gruff as he gathers me against his big frame, and a sob rips up the back of my throat. He takes the photo from me, sets it down, and then picks me up, carrying me to the couch and settling me sideways in his lap. “Please don’t cry.”
“They look so happy,” I whisper, trying to get myself under control.
“They were happy. I never saw them argue. Mom used to bicker, but Dad thought that shit was cute. He used to laugh about it, which would make her laugh.”
“What happened to them?” I ask, lifting my head to look at him, and his body gets tight under me. Feeling that, I tuck my face against his neck. “Never mind. Forget I asked.” I wrap my arms around his middle, ignoring the disappointment I feel while listening to him pull in a deep breath.
“It was right before Christmas,” he begins, and my muscles bunch. “I was out with friends. My parents never locked the door. A guy walked right into the house while Mom and Dad were upstairs. The guy was in the middle of cleaning out the gifts from under the tree, when my dad confronted him. All Dad had was a baseball bat. Didn’t know the guy was armed. He shot Dad twice in the chest. Mom was hiding, but when she heard the shots, she came out, and since he didn’t want to leave a witness, he killed her too.
“God,” I breathe, closing my eyes as the pain for him wraps around my heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe. “I’m so, so sorry,” I choke out, knowing that isn’t even an adequate word. Him losing his parents was bad enough. Him losing them the way he did, is tragic. “Please tell me they caught the guy.”
“They caught him. He tried to pawn the necklace Dad got Mom for Christmas. I was with him when he bought it, so I knew it was missing and put a description in the report. Cops were able to track and catch him, since he used his ID with the pawn shop.”
“Good,” I whisper, tucking my face into his neck when I realize his history is exactly why he flipped out about my door not being locked the first time he came over to my house. “You were still a kid when you lost them,” I say after a moment, and he pulls my face out of his neck and runs his thumbs under my eyes, swiping away the wetness there.
“I was a kid, but lucky for me, my mom’s sister, Patricia, lived in the same town, so I went to live with her. She wasn’t a replacement for my parents, but we were close, and losing them brought us closer. We’re still tight; she comes to visit often. That’s why I had to get this place. She wasn’t cool with sleeping at the compound.”
“I bet not.” I scrunch up my face, and he smiles then shakes his head.
“She knows about you,” he tells me quietly, and my heart squeezes.
“What?” I whisper.
He slides his fingers across my cheek and up into my hair. “Like I said, we’re close. She knows about you, has known about you for a while now.”
“Will I get to meet her?”
“She’ll be here at Christmas, so yeah.” He nods, and my stomach dips.
“Awesome.”
“Yeah, awesome.” He smiles then leans in, kissing my forehead. “As much as I enjoy having you in my lap, you need to eat and we need to get to bed. I got work tomorrow.”
“Right,” I agree, but I don’t move. I lock my arms around him. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had years to deal with their loss. Sucks sometimes when something good happens in my life and I don’t get to share it with them, but I’m okay.”
“Promise?” I press, and his face softens.
“Promise, baby.”
“Okay.”
He dips his face close to mine. “You all right?” he asks, and I feel my face match his softness.
“You are, so yeah, I am.” I run my fingers down the column of his throat. “I hurt for you and all you lost, but as long as you’re okay, I’m okay. But if you ever feel like talking to anyone, I’m here.”
“So damn sweet,” he murmurs, then his mouth is on mine, his lips firm and demanding while still being sweet and soft.
Running my hands through his hair, I hold on and kiss him back, trying to pour into that kiss how deeply I feel for him, how much I’ve come to care about him, and how happy I am that he’s mine. When he pulls away and our eyes lock, I swear I see my feelings staring right back at me.
“Come on.” He helps me stand then leads me into the kitchen, handing me a can of Sprite. He picks up a plate with a sandwich and chips, taking it with us back to his bedroom. Dizzy, who has made himself comfortable on the bed, pops his head up to look at us, but quickly lays it back down, closing his eyes.
I get into bed and open my soda then settle my plate on my lap before picking up the remote. “What do you want to watch?” I ask, watching him strip down to his boxers.
“Whatever you want,” he replies, and I look at the TV. Having grown up with brothers, I know that’s a lie. He probably wouldn’t be into one of the dance shows I like, or The Bachelor.
“Here, you choose.” I hand him the remote when he settles on the bed next to me, his back to the headboard and his ankles crossed.
“Baby, I’m really good with whatever you want to watch,” he tells me as I take a bite of my sandwich—ham and cheese with the perfect amount of mayo and mustard.
“You’d be okay with watching The Bachelor?” I raise a brow, and a pained look crosses his face. Laughing, I mutter, “You pick,” popping a chip into my mouth.
He settles on a crime drama. I finish eating, and as soon as I’m done, he takes my plate away and curls me into his side. I rest my head against his chest, my arm over his abs and my thigh over his, and watch TV with him until I eventually fall asleep.
***
Sitting at a small booth at the back of the coffee shop the next morning, my stomach knots when I see my dad walk by the windows at the front. I pick up my coffee and take a sip as he enters, and his eyes come to me. Seeing him close in on the table I’m sitting at, I realize his guard is up and he’s nervous. Realizing that, the knot in my stomach loosens. My dad doesn’t get scared or nervous, so I know he must be feeling guilty, and even though I’m still upset with him, I don’t want that for him.
“I got you your usual,” I say when he takes a seat across from me, and his eyes go from guarded to soft in an instant.
“Did you poison it?”
“No.” I shake my head, then continue, “Only because I didn’t have any arsenic handy.”
“Fair enough.” He picks up the white paper cup and takes a sip then sets it down, keeping his hand wrapped around it. He scans the coffee shop, and then his eyes meet mine. “You know I love you, right?”
God, that question kills me, because I have never, not once in all my life, questioned my father’s love for me. Never.
“I know that,” I reply softly, holding his gaze.
“Know I’d do anything for you? Protect you with my dying breath?”
“I know.” My lungs burn, and I swallow over the sudden lump in my throat.
“When did you grow up?” The question is whispered, and tears I can’t fight start to form in my eyes. “You’re my baby girl. Christ, I look at you now, know you’re a woman, but… you’re still my baby in here,” he says gruffly, placing his hand over his heart.
A lone tear escapes and slides down my cheek. “Dad,” I whisper as he sits forward, wiping the tear from my cheek and studying me.
“Your mom says she’s never seen you as happy as when she saw you with him.” God, I love my mom. I close my eyes, and he grabs my chin, shaking it gently. “Are you happy?”
“Yes.” I open my eyes back up and meet his gaze. “I’m happy.”
“Then I’ll find a way to deal.” He lets go of my chin and sits back.
“That easy?” I ask, and he shrugs his big shoulders.
“Tried to convince him three times to move on, and three times he’s told me what he’s thought of my suggestion. So I’m guessing
he’s determined to be around a while.”
“Seriously, Dad?” My eyes narrow and he smiles.
“What? It didn’t work.” He shrugs, now grinning. “If it had worked, he wouldn’t have been worth your time anyway.”
Even though he has a point, I still continue to glare at him. “No more trying to scare him off, Dad. All it does is annoy him and piss him off.”
“He means that much to you, like I said, I’ll find a way to deal,” he says, and my eyes soften.
“Please give him a chance. I don’t know the future, or know what will happen between us, but what we have feels good. And I don’t want to feel like I’m choosing between the two of you.”
“You’d choose me, right?” he prompts, and for the first time in my life, the answer to that question isn’t an immediate yes. The truth is, I don’t know what I would do if I was forced to pick between Harlen and my dad, and I hope I never have to find out. Reading my expression, he mutters, “Fuck,” rubbing his jaw.
“I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too. But if he fucks you over, you get no say in the way I handle him.”
“Dad,” I sigh, shaking my head.
“Nope, that’s my stipulation,” he says firmly, in a tone I know all too well.
“Fine,” I mutter, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling.
When my eyes roll back down, I find him grinning. “So, when do I get to come over for breakfast?”
“Never,” I answer, and he kicks my foot with his boot and smiles at me. Seeing that smile, I stand up and give him a hug, and as soon as his arms close tight around me, I know we’re good.
“You got time to have lunch with your old man?” he asks, and I let him go and smile.
“Yep, but you’re buying.” I pick up my purse and settle it over my shoulder as he stands, bringing his coffee with him.
“When don’t I buy?”
“I don’t know.” I laugh, listening to him chuckle as we head out of the coffee shop. Tossing his arm around my shoulders when we hit the sidewalk, I feel his lips touch the side of my head, and my arm around his waist squeezes tight. Nope, I hope I never ever have to choose between him and Harlen.
Chapter 7
Harmony
“DO NOT COME.” HARLEN’S harsh breath growls against my ear as he thrusts back into me hard, causing my own breath to hitch and my core to spasm.
“Harlen,” I whimper, close, so close, yet then again, I’ve been close for a while now. But each time I’m almost there, he changes positions, throwing me off balance and forcing me to build back up to it again.
“Don’t come,” he repeats, sliding his hand around my hip and zeroing in on my clit with outstanding accuracy.
“Oh God!” I cry out, and my head flies back when his fingers from one hand swirl as his other hand smacks my ass hard, so hard it sends a wave of pleasure through me. “Fuck! Take me.”
He speeds up his thrusts, and I bite my lip, trying to counteract the building pressure between my legs. “Up.” His hand slides up my hip and side then wraps under my breast, pulling me up to my knees. Licking over my shoulder, neck, then ear, he nips my earlobe. “Mouth.” I turn my head and open my mouth under his, and his tongue sweeps between my parted lips.
Whimpering down his throat, I slide my hand down his arm and join my fingers with his at my clit. “Honey, please,” I breathe against his mouth, hearing him groan.
“Come for me.” His fingers and hips pick up speed while the hand under my breast slides up. Two fingers pluck my nipple, and send a shot of heat right between my legs. My hips buck hard against his and my head falls backward against his shoulder. I turn my head and give him my mouth, coming as the tip of his tongue touches mine. I feel his hips jerk erratically then he plants himself deep, keeping himself there as he comes and groans against my tongue.
Breathing heavy, feeling my heart pounding against my rib cage, I smile against his lips then whisper there, “We beat the clock.”
“Yeah.” He pulls back enough to look at me then smiles when my alarm goes off.
Giggling, I turn my head and tuck my face into his neck, breathing in his warm scent. It’s been a week since we stayed at his house, and when he woke me this morning with his face between my legs, he told me we were going to see how far we could get before my alarm went off. I think we did all right, since I got two orgasms before the alarm rang, the first one being from his mouth.
He gives me a squeeze, and my face comes out of his neck so I can look at him. “Are you getting up, or are you going to sleep for a while?” he asks, and I look at the clock, seeing it’s still early—a little before eight. He has work today, but thankfully, I don’t. Still, I do have stuff I need to get done today, which is why I set my alarm last night when we went to bed.
“I think I want to laze a bit,” I tell him, and he smiles, kissing the tip of my nose.
“Turn off your alarm, baby. I’m gonna take a shower then get to the shop.”
“Okay,” I agree, and he gently pulls out of me and kisses my shoulder before I fall carelessly onto the bed, too tired to hold myself up. Hearing him chuckle, I reach my arm out and shut off my alarm. Then I turn to watch him saunter naked into my bathroom, enjoying the view of the muscles of his back and ass flexing until he’s out of sight. I hear the shower go on and smile to myself, pull the sheet and blanket up over my shoulder, and close my eyes.
I wake, feeling my hair being slid off my forehead, and blink my eyes open, finding him dressed and sitting on the side of the bed. “Didn’t want to wake you, but figured I should,” he says quietly, and I nod, trying to keep my heavy, tired eyes open.
“I fed Dizzy and let him out. You’re good to sleep for a while.”
“Thanks, honey,” I murmur.
His eyes get warm right before he dips his head so he can place a soft kiss against my lips, whispering there, “Message me when you get up.”
“‘Kay,” I agree, as I lose the battle with my eyelids and they slide closed. I feel his lips touch my hair then he tucks the blanket tighter around me. After that, I don’t feel anything, because I fall back asleep.
Waking when Dizzy jumps on the bed and starts to lick my face, I groan. “Dizzy, come on. I’m tired.” I try to force him to lie down and cuddle with me, but he refuses. Instead, he licks my face and bounces around on the bed and my chest until I have no choice but to get up. I sit up, pulling him into my lap, then flip him to his back and rub his belly, watching his feet kick rapidly when I hit a good spot. “Do you want to run errands with me today?” I ask, and he rolls to his feet then starts to run in circles on the bed, giving me my answer.
I look at the clock. It’s a little after ten, so I still have plenty of time to get everything I need to get done, done. Part of what I want to do is cook dinner for Harlen, since he’s always cooking for me, which means I need to get to the store to buy the stuff for a cowboy casserole, one of the few things I know how to make, and make well.
I roll out of bed, find my nightgown on the floor, and pull it down over my head, and then I tug on my robe, tying the belt around my waist. I gather my hair up in a ponytail on the way into the bathroom, then clean up and brush my teeth. Grabbing my cell phone off my side table, I head out of my bedroom with Dizzy dancing at my heels. After opening the back door for him, I send Harlen a quick text letting him know I’m up before heading for the kitchen to make coffee.
Hearing my doorbell ring when I’m filling the coffeepot, I frown and shut off the water. No one I know would be here this time of day, since everyone I know works. Going to the door, I lift up on my bare feet and look out the peephole. When I see it’s a guy I haven’t met but know lives across the street, I open my door, staying behind it and keeping my body out of sight, since my robe is short enough to be inappropriate.
“Hey,” I greet.
He gives me a tight smile then steps back, forcing two boys that are maybe seven and fourteen out of hiding to stand in front of him. “Sucks to meet you like
this,” he says, and I look from the boys to him. “I’m Gareth.” If I didn’t have Harlen, I would be finding out if he’s married, because he’s gorgeous, with lots of tattoos, dark, almost black hair, and piercing blue eyes. “This is Max.” His large hand wraps around the younger boy’s blond head, and his green eyes smile up at me. “And Mitchell.” He wraps his hand around the older boy’s shoulder, and I see that he looks like his dad, with the same dark hair and stunning blue eyes. “We live across the street.”
“Nice to meet you guys. I’m Harmony,” I reply.
Gareth nods then looks toward my driveway before turning to me once more. “The boys were playing ball in the front yard and hit your car, broke out the taillight.”
“We’re sorry,” both boys say in unison, and I look at them and smile softly.
“It’s okay.” I slide my eyes from them to look at their dad. “Can you give me a few minutes to get dressed and I’ll come check it out?”
“Sure.” He nods.
“Thanks, be right back.” I shut the door and head for my room. I go to my closet and pull on a pair of sweats, grab a bra and a long sleeved T-shirt, putting both on before heading back toward the front door. Sliding my feet into my flip-flops, I open the door and find them still standing outside waiting for me. I follow them to the back of my car and find that the taillight is not just broken, but shattered. Even the bulb is busted.
“Who hit the ball?” I ask, and the boys look between each other while their dad goes tense at my side, probably thinking I’m going to lose my mind. “Just saying whoever did could play for the Mets.”
“It was me,” Mitchell says, his chest puffing out with pride. “But I don’t want to play for the Mets. I want to play for the Yankees.”
Smiling at him, I listen to his dad laugh then watch as he ruffles his son’s hair playfully.
“We’re really sorry about this,” Gareth says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Not sure how you wanna take care of it, but I work part time at a shop in town. If you come in, I’ll fix it, or you can bill me. Whatever works.”