5. Jefferson
CHAPTER 5
JEFFERSON
I may not be the brightest of the Riley siblings, but I’m pretty sharp. It takes me only the time from when Harlow grabs my hand to when my ass hits the seat to figure out what’s going on.
Harlow Hansen and I are now accomplices.
I slide my arm along the booth behind her, my palm resting on her shoulder, and I pull her close.
I feel her body stiffen. I’m sure in surprise. But if we’re gonna do this, we’re going to do it.
Zach’s eyes narrow as he takes the seat across the table from us.
Deanna shows up just then, delivering plates. She puts the French toast and bacon in front of Harlow. Of course she does. And an omelet with a ton of vegetables in front of Zach.
I steal a piece of bacon from Harlow’s plate and lift it to my mouth, feeling stupidly smug.
I don’t know what Harlow has told Zach, I don’t know how long they’ve been here, I don’t really know what’s going on at all, but from this moment on, Zach Nelson is going to think that Harlow and I are crazy about each other. And that she is so far over him, she barely remembers the days of looking at him with puppy dog eyes and writing him little love notes that she’d slip into his locker.
Sudden tension wraps around my ribs. I remember those stupid notes probably better than either of them do. I also remember Zach showing them off to the football team and making fun of them.
Harlow doesn’t know about that. And as long as I am breathing, she won’t.
That’s essentially what I told Zach and the rest of the team when I heard them joking about the notes ten years ago.
My stance hasn’t changed.
I force myself to relax, hug her a little tighter, feel her squirm against me—obviously trying to put some space between us—and grin. Zach can think I’m grinning at him. I’m actually grinning about the extra perk of this whole thing: driving Harlow nuts. That’s always been fun. This next week is going to give me all kinds of opportunities for that particular entertainment as well. Win-win-fucking win.
“Morning, Zach,” I finally say.
I reach for Harlow‘s coffee cup, and lift it to my mouth. I’m prepared for it to be straight black and strong, but I’m not prepared for the taste of cinnamon, or just how damned strong it is. My mother, candy-maker extraordinaire and co-owner of the best bakery in the state, has spoiled me with lattes since I was in high school. I’m man enough to admit that I like my coffee a little sweet and frothy. I’m not ashamed of that. And if you want to put a swirl of chocolate in there, I’m not gonna be mad.
I work on not coughing as I swallow and set the cup back down.
“What are you doing here?” Zach asks.
He seems annoyed. Perfect.
“Was walking by and saw my girl in the window. Of course I had to come in.”
Zach’s brows slam together, and he looks from me to Harlow, back to me, then back to Harlow. “ Him ?”
Now she leans into me. “I told you you’d find out soon enough.”
He looks back at me. “Why didn’t you just say so last night?”
“Honestly?” I ask. “Because it’s really none of your fucking business.”
“Why doesn’t anyone in town know the two of you are together?”
“Just because the people you’ve asked don’t know doesn’t mean no one knows,” I say.
Lying my ass off is not something I’m good at, especially on the fly. But that’s something I’m generally proud of. Guess I’m going to have to get a little better at it.
“I told you that we’ve been keeping it under wraps since we’re both from here and everyone knows us. We wanted to be sure it was turning into something before we let everyone in on it,” Harlow tells him.
Awesome. She’s already come up with a story and smoothly let me in on it. And that’s a pretty good one. Honestly, if I was going to date someone within our little friend group, or within the group of kids that came out of my parents’ friend group, that’s exactly how I would do it. The relationship would have to be well established, and pretty serious before we let everyone in on it. If it wasn’t going to work out, or it was only going to be a short term fling, there’d be no point in pulling everyone in. There’d be potential for a lot of broken hearts actually.
Fuck.
We’re going to have to let everyone in on this.
Our parents and siblings absolutely cannot think this is something serious or real.
“So how long has this been going on?” Zach asks.
I take a breath. “Zach. This really is none of your business. We’ve chosen not to tell a lot of people who are closer to us than you’ve ever been. We’re not gonna discuss our relationship with you. But I am going to tell you, Harlow is absolutely, one thousand percent, still off-limits.”
I feel Harlow’s gaze on the side of my face. Probably that use of the word still . She has no idea that Zach and I have had previous conversations about her and his involvement in her life. Nor does she need to.
Now I get to play the part of protector to Harlow, and antagonist to Zach Nelson with a much better reason—even if it’s fake—while he’s in town. This is definitely going to be fun.
“In fact, I was coming to find her. Need you for something,” I tell her, making eye contact for the first time since I sat down.
As our eyes meet, I become acutely aware of the fact that our bodies are pressed up against one another. She fits against me nicely. She’s warm and soft and… I stop myself right there. None of that matters.
“Oh?” she asks. But she seems eager for the excuse. “Then let’s go.”
“You’re not hungry?” Zach asks.
“I told you I was on the way to the bakery anyway,” Harlow tells him. “I wasn’t planning on French toast and bacon.”
“Guess I’ll take it home. Think of you later.” He gives her a smile.
I want to punch him.
It’s juvenile, but I slide out of the booth, go up to the counter and reach behind it for a to-go box. I come back, dump the contents of Harlow‘s plate into it, close the lid, and toss a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “That should cover her.”
Then I grab Harlow‘s hand, tug her out of the booth, tuck her under my arm, and press a kiss to the top of her head.
“See ya’ around.” I say to Zach, wishing that wasn’t true, but knowing that’s too much to ask for.
He sits back in the booth, watching us carefully. “Oh. For sure.”
We step out onto the sidewalk, and I say, “Admit it, I was smooth.”
She nods. “I will admit that. Thank you for just going along with that.” She pauses and then says, “Of course this was all your idea in the first place so really I was the one going along with it smoothly.”
I chuckle. “Obviously it was a great idea, right?”
“Well, it’s better than letting him be happy and confident.”
I touch her on the tip of her nose, partly because it feels right and partly because I know it will make her nuts. “Exactly.”
She frowns but does not swat me away. Probably because we’re standing on display outside of Dottie’s huge front window.
“We need to tell our moms,” we both stay at the same time.
I chuckle and she smiles.
“Everyone needs to be in on it,” I clarify.
“I know. They’re going to think it’s nuts.”
“But they’ll have our backs.”
“Yeah.”
We turn toward the bakery together and start walking. I grab her hand and entwine our fingers.
She tries to pull away, almost instinctively. “What are you doing?”
I tighten my hold on her. “The entire diner is watching us. We just announced we’re together. For sure Zach is watching. We have to act like we like each other now, Harlow.”
She huffs out breath. “Yeah, I don’t think either of us thought this through.”
Maybe not at the moment it was first suggested and it hit me that it was a great idea, but since then? Oh, I’ve thought about it. More than I should have.
I pull her in closer and kiss the top of her head again. She elbows me. I chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s a week.”
“About six and a half days longer than I think I can pull off liking you. “
“Look,” I say, glancing side to side and then stepping behind the gazebo so that we’re blocked from the diner. We’re in the middle of the town square so it’s not like we’re totally hidden, but I can make this look good. I turn her and back her up against the side of the gazebo, then brace a hand next to her ear. “We have to pull this off now. We told Zach, word for word, to his face, together that we’re a couple. It would be way worse for both of us if Zach figured out we’re faking it.”
She’s staring at me with wide eyes. Maybe because this is the closest Harlow and I have been in years. And she doesn’t remember the last time we were this close. Considering she was blacked out and I was carrying her into Graham’s bedroom, I’m not surprised.
“We can pull this off,” I tell her firmly.
She wets her lips, and I can’t help it when my eyes drop to her mouth. It’s just instinct. Or something.
Whatever. She has a nice mouth. At least when it’s shut and not snarking at me.
“Yeah. I’m sure we can,” she says.
“Maybe I’ll ask your dad for tips on how to deal with brats.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your mom pokes at your dad just like you do to me.”
Harlow shakes her head quickly. “My mom likes my dad. When she pokes him, it’s teasing and…flirting.” She frowns as if she doesn’t really like using that word in reference to her own parents.
I grin. “Yeah, it is,” I say thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
“That is not what it is when I poke at you.”
“But other people might think so.”
“Wait, are you calling my mom a brat?”
I nod. “Totally.”
She seems to be thinking that over. Then she frowns. “Don’t talk about my parents like that.
I chuckle. “Okay.”
“What do you know about brats? Your mom is super sweet. She never pokes at your dad.”
“No, she doesn’t. My mom has other ways of flirting with my dad.”
“They do flirt?”
“All the time.” I never really spent time thinking about it before but yes, there’s no question that my parents are very much in love and that they have their own language that is flirtatious at times. “But I do know brats. My sister is one. Of course I blame you for that.”
Harlow lifts her chin. “Good.”
“Carver and I are the nice ones. And we’re older than you and weren’t really influenced by you. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
She narrows her eyes. “You really want to start talking about your siblings with me? That’s not really the way to make me happy and compliant with trying to like you.”
“You’re still mad at me about Graham.” I don’t phrase it as a question. I know she is.
She looks like she can’t believe I just asked that. “Yes. Always and forever.”
“Going to Colorado was good for him.”
“He would’ve been just fine, great even, if he’d stayed here too.”
“Agreed to disagree.”
“I don’t agree to that. I do disagree with you. But I’m not agreeing to put this aside. I still hate you for forcing Graham to leave. I still hate you for making him doubt our friendship. I still hate you for not trusting me and for questioning my place in his life. I was here for him at times and in ways you never were. You do not know everything, Jefferson, and you butted in!”
Her cheeks are flushed and I believe the anger in her eyes is real, even after all of these years. She believes I stole her best friend from her. That I ruined their relationship.
She’s not totally wrong.
But I don’t regret it.
“I know you don’t forgive me, Harlow,” I finally say.
“We still approach life very differently,” she tells me. “We still look at relationships very differently. We don’t look at home and family the same way. Those are big things to me. I can maybe pretend to like you for a week. But this is only because I hate Zach more than I dislike you.”
I tip my head and look at her. Really study her. It’s too bad she hates me. We actually do have a lot in common. Though I’m sure she would hate to hear that.
“Let’s go tell our moms before this rumor about us gets spread around town,” I tell her, stepping back. “And before you slap me in the middle of the square and go stomping off, ruining any chance of us selling this.”
“We will be about ten seconds from that all week,” she warns me.
“I know, Harlow. I know.”
But she lets me take her hand as we turn toward the bakery.