16. Harlow
CHAPTER 16
HARLOW
Jefferson’s strawberry jalapeno chicken is amazing.
Because of course it is. The guy really does seem to be good at everything he does.
I mean, I’ve never had that chicken before, but it’s now one of my favorite dishes. I also enjoyed the prep and cooking stages. I’d perched on one of the kitchen stools, sipping iced tea and watching him cook as we chatted.
I didn’t know a guy who can cook would be so sexy.
But it is.
And I’m telling myself it’s all men who cook and not just Jefferson.
That should annoy me. Two days ago, it would have. Now it just makes me smile.
I can have his strawberry jalapeno chicken whenever I want.
Then I frown.
I can have it whenever I want for the rest of this week .
I sigh.
How did I suddenly just forget this is not only fake but it’s also got a timeline? A short one at that?
“You have to tell us everything!”
I’m accosted by Mia, Ginny, Margot, and Sasha the second I set foot on the grass of the town square. They’ve clearly been lying in wait.
“What are you talking about?” I ask as they surround me and literally start herding me across the square.
Margot hands me a frozen lemonade, and Sasha presses a corndog into my other hand.
I hand the corndog back. “Thanks, but I already ate lunch.”
“What?” Mia asks. “You did? Even knowing you were coming down here to festival food?”
Yes, that does sound suspicious. I love all festival food. Put something on a stick and deep fry it and I’ll eat it.
Except Brussels sprouts.
“Uh.” I eye the corndog. Could I fit it into my stomach? But my stomach immediately rejects the idea. “We had lunch before Jefferson came down here to…”
I trail off, wincing as I realize what I just said and take in the looks on my friends’ faces.
That ‘we’ came out really easy.
“Uh huh,” Margot says with a smile. “You and Jefferson had lunch together. At his house? Because you weren’t at your house.”
“And I didn’t see you at the diner,” Sasha adds.
“None of us have seen you at all since last night,” Ginny says, grinning.
I frown. “It’s not like I haven’t left his house at all. I was at my house this morning. And I was out at Delaney and Tucker’s.”
“We heard. You now have three cats. I assume those are at Jefferson’s, too?” Ginny asks. “Because Sloan is allergic.”
“Sasha is too.”
Sasha shrugs. “A little.”
“And you hate having dog hair on your clothes,” I say to Margot. “I assume the same would apply to cat hair.”
She looks at me with clear amusement. “And now you have a boyfriend who will let you have cats. That’s really sweet.”
“He’s my fake boyfriend,” I say.
“But the cats are real,” Margot says.
“And he’s the guy you were really kissing the hell out of in the parking lot last night,” Sasha says.
I look at her. “What? How do you know that?” She wasn’t there.
“Ginny’s video.”
I turn wide eyes on Ginny. “Ginny’s what ?”
Ginny swipes over her phone screen, then holds it out.
I lean in, watching the video play of me and Jefferson next to his truck. Kissing.
It’s…very hot.
I look up at her. “You recorded us?”
She grins. “Of course. Because I’m a very good friend.”
“How is that being a very good friend to me?” I demand. “That was a private moment.” But even as I say it, I hear a voice in my head telling me not to be ridiculous. The whole thing was to be seen by other people. Zach in particular.
Ginny laughs. “I’m a very good friend to Mia, Margot, Sasha, Sloan, Graham?—”
“Okay,” I cut her off, jabbing my finger at her phone screen to stop the video that started over.
I narrow my eyes. “It’s not weird for you to watch me and your brother kissing?”
She gives me a genuine smile. “No. I love you both so much. Why wouldn’t I want you to love each other?”
I feel a swirl of…something…ripple through my belly. Love? Love ?
“We are faking this,” I say on a sharp whisper.
“Uh huh,” Ginny says.
“Yeah, that kiss was very real,” Sasha says.
“The kiss was…” I blow out a breath, then relent. “Good.”
“Good?” Margot asks.
“Okay, really good. And we’re getting along better now. And yes, he made me lunch. And yes, we’re fostering three cats. But, at most, this is becoming a we-don’t-hate-each-other-every-second friendship . Don’t be getting all weird about this,” I tell them.
Mia is the one to finally smile, nod, and link her arm with mine. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” I ask.
She shakes her head and shares glances with the other girls. “You and Jefferson are the most confident, self-aware people any of us know. If you say you’re just friends, we believe you.”
Ginny, Margot, and Sasha all nod.
We start off across the square again.
Jefferson is already here somewhere. Since he had to come down and help with some things early, I walked over by myself to meet the girls. He did tell me to come find him when I got here though. And, for just a couple of charged moments, I thought he was going to kiss me goodbye.
And then for a couple more seconds I was disappointed when he didn’t.
But then , and now, I’ve settled on being glad he didn’t. Kissing in public for show is one thing. Kissing in private is something else entirely.
We stop at a few tables to check out crafts, to sniff handmade candles and soaps, and to sample baked goods. My mom owns a bakery, so I’m never without amazing carbs, but some of the ladies in town really know how to make sourdough bread, and banana bread, or strawberry rhubarb pie, and my mom forgives us for partaking from others this time of year.
Eventually we arrive at the dunk tank.
“Hey, ladies.” Graham comes strolling over with a grin. He’s holding a caramel apple.
“Hey, have you seen Jefferson?” Ginny asks her brother.
I hear the clang of the target at the tank being hit, the splash of someone hitting the water, and the cheer of the crowd.
“Yeah.” Graham’s gaze lands on me. “Your boy has single-handedly gotten them halfway to their goal just during his hour.”
My boy.
Even Graham is in on this.
I just roll my eyes.
Of course, Jefferson is over there throwing balls. The dunk tank is raising money for some new equipment in the weight room that the high school sports teams use but that is also open to the public after hours.
There’s plenty of money in our town. Jefferson, Graham, and Ginny’s family for instance. Their father’s company brings in hundreds of millions. Of course, Mason and his partner, Lauren Davis-Bennett, also spend a lot on research and development as well as funding a multitude of charitable projects around the world.
The Spencers, Joe and Levi, are also both worth millions. And any of them would give money to Sapphire Falls for literally anything. But the community feels strongly about raising money for projects and letting everyone contribute as much as they can.
And it works. Sometimes the more affluent members of our community chip in if things fall short of the final goal, but the town shows up for needs over and over again.
It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside every time.
I don’t even correct Graham on calling Jefferson ‘my boy’. I shrug. “Well, it’s no shock he’s doing well. He’s got a pretty great arm.”
Graham laughs. “He’s not dunking people. He’s the one getting dunked.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
Graham nods. “The first twenty people in line were his players. And they all dropped some pretty good money. Especially since he was trash-talking them from his perch. Even after he went under the first few times.”
I laugh. That all tracks.
“But then he took his shirt off and the line got a little more…estrogen filled.”
I take that in and work very hard on not reacting.
Because why would I react?
Just because I can easily flash back to last night in his living room when he came into the room without a shirt on when Zach was at the door?
Just because I can still feel the heat and firmness of his body against mine from our kiss in the parking lot?
So what? Like I said before, Jefferson Riley is good looking. It’s simply an objective fact. It’s not like I think I’m the only one to notice.
“Oh really?” Mia asks. “What kind of estrogen?” She slides me a glance.
I’m totally nonchalant. Totally cool. Not at all resisting the urge to jog over to the dunk tank.
I don’t need to catch a glimpse of Jefferson without his shirt on.
Dripping wet.
Muscles rippling as he hoists himself out of the water.
Grinning, because of course he’s grinning and having a blast.
I also don’t need to stake a claim and I’m very annoyed that’s also an urge I feel.
“It started out with some of the female athletes,” Graham says. “And some of them have really good arms too. But then a couple of older women petitioned Hailey to move the line they had to throw from closer to the target. And she obliged.” Graham laughs. “He’s been going under almost constantly.”
“Who? Like Susan and Linda?” I name two ladies who are probably in their late seventies.
“No. Like Allison and Lu.”
That definitely makes me frown harder. Allison is a single mom who graduated in Jefferson’s class and LuAnn is a year older than me. “Those are ‘older women’?” I ask Graham.
“Older than the teenagers,” he says lifting a shoulder.
“And that’s who’s dunking Jefferson now?” I ask.
“Among others.”
I start forward. And I know how this looks. But…
Fine, I’m feeling a little possessive or something. But I don’t like the idea that those women, and any others, are flirting with and ogling my boyfriend. They don’t know it’s fake and they need to back the fuck off.
Haven’t they seen the video of us kissing in the parking lot?
I get through the crowd just as someone hits the target again. Jefferson plunges into the water and everyone cheers.
It’s Allison. She high-fives Lu.
I roll my eyes.
“How much time does he have left?” I ask Graham.
“Only about five minutes.”
As I come up behind Allison and Lu, Jefferson does the thing. The thing where the hot, muscular guy braces his hands and hoists himself up, water cascading over all of the hard planes of his body.
I freeze, my attention fully on Jefferson.
He stands up on the platform, his long, lean body now glistening in the sun as he lifts his arms and pushes his hair back, then shakes out his arms, causing water to spray in every direction. He's grinning the entire time.
I’m jerked out of my daze when Allison says, “I might have to sell my car, but I’m staying here until they kick me out.”
The jab of jealousy or possessiveness—or stupidity—is sharp. I lean forward and say, “You should see him without the shorts on.”
They both whirl around.
Lu at least looks embarrassed about talking about my boyfriend. Allison doesn’t.
Her eyes go back to Jefferson. “I have a very good imagination.”
I follow her gaze and agree that the way the athletic shorts he's wearing, soaked wet and clinging to every inch of him, do show off his assets nicely.
But no matter how well Allison and I have gotten along in the past, she doesn’t get to talk this way about Jefferson to me. “Trust me. You can’t possibly fully imagine”
Hailey Connor Bennett spots me just then. Hailey is running the dunk tank, and she raises her hand and waves. “Harlow. Step right up!”
Jefferson's gaze immediately jerks to mine and our eyes lock. He gives me a slow grin.
I shake my head. “I’m not in line.” I’m terrible at these kinds of games and I definitely won’t be able to hit the target with everyone watching.
Hailey laughs. “This is your last chance. He's almost done. Come on.”
I dig for some bravado. “Why would I pay for something I can see anytime I want?”
There are low whistles and ooohs from the crowd.
Hailey laughs again. “Okay, fine. I suppose you want to save your money for the kissing booth, huh? But you can’t monopolize him the whole time.”
My eyes go back to Jefferson's. “Kissing booth?”
He grins as he settles himself on the perch again. “You know me, Lily, always happy to help out around here.”
I don’t even need to look in the direction of Lu and Allison to know that they are already heading toward the kissing booth to find out when Jefferson's shift starts and to be first in line.
I should not care. The kissing booth is harmless after all. It's an age-old tradition. It's fun and silly and raises money for causes. I don’t know what the cause is this year, but it doesn’t matter. Jefferson is a regular. He brings in a lot of money. And obviously he signed up for this before he and I were involved in this crazy plan.
But despite all of that, I don’t really love the idea of him at the kissing booth, puckering up for anyone and everyone who comes along. Or really anyone else at all.
Dammit.
Well, I can convincingly play the jealous girlfriend I guess.
I dig in my pocket and hand my money to Ty Bennett, Hailey's husband. “On second thought,” I say. “I think I will take a shot.”
I hear Jefferson's chuckle as I walk to the line from which I have to throw the three balls. I glare at him, focus on the target, imagine Allison kissing him, and throw the first ball as hard as I can.
It hits the target dead center, and Jefferson goes splashing down into the water again.
He comes up laughing, and his eyes find mine immediately. His gaze stays locked on me as he pulls himself up out of the water, and while he again stands, stretches, and pushes his hair back.
“I think that rounds out my shift,” he says to Hailey.
She nods, grinning broadly. “It does. I don’t wanna make you late for the kissing booth.”
Jefferson climbs out of the tank and comes down the stairs. He heads straight for me.
I actually find myself glancing around, contemplating an escape route.
He comes to stand directly in front of me. “Nice shot.”
“I know.”
“I need to change.”
I just nod.
He wraps a cold, wet hand around my upper arm. “Come with me.”
I give in immediately. Can’t have the town see us bickering. I fall into step beside him as he starts for the ‘changing room’ set up off to the side for this very purpose. It’s essentially a tent made up of sheets draped from poles and clotheslines.
I don’t even hesitate when he ducks inside. I follow him in. He's able to stand up inside and it's got four sides, but I know people can hear our conversation outside so when he lifts an eyebrow, I lower my voice to a whisper.
“I kind of made a big deal about having seen you without your shorts,” I tell him. “So I can’t really act like it's weird for me to come inside while you change, right?”
He grins. “You made a big deal about seeing me naked?”
“Shut up.”
He grabs a towel and starts drying off, then reaches for a T-shirt, dry shorts, and boxers from a duffel.
I turn around, and he chuckles.
“So you can’t do the kissing booth,” I say, working hard not to envision what he's uncovering at the moment.
“I signed up before we were doing this thing.”
“I figured. And I know you always bring a lot of money. But come on, it will look weird for a guy who's taken to be at the kissing booth.”
“My shift literally starts in fifteen minutes. I can’t bail. They do need the money.”
I think about that. “Well, we’ll just donate the money. Me making a big deal out of you not doing the booth will also look good for us, right?”
“Okay. But do you think you can afford to donate the money to cover what I’ll bring in?”
I roll my eyes even if he can’t see them. “How much do you think you’re worth? Prices are a dollar for a hug, two for a kiss, and three for ‘not dating their daughters’.”
I smile as I think about the sign that has been on the front of the kissing booth for as long as I can remember.
The Bennett boys, including Tucker, who I got the foster cats from, and Ty, who I just paid for the balls to dunk Jefferson, used to be popular at the kissing booth from what I hear. But I can’t imagine either of their wives letting that continue after they were taken.
“Well if it's two bucks a kiss, I can make thousands in the course of an hour,” Jefferson says. There's a pause that he adds, “You can turn around now.”
He's just pulling his shirt down over his abs, and I wish for a second that I had turned a little faster.
“Thousands?” I scoff. “I know these women are not getting a simple peck on the lips and running. No way can you get through five hundred women in an hour.”
He steps closer. “How long do you think a kiss takes?”
I catch my breath in spite of myself. I’m staring at him, replaying our kiss from outside the restaurant. “I’ve never timed one,” I say, hating how breathless I sound.
“Start your watch,” he says, reaching up to the back of my head and pulling me in.
I could lie and say that it happened quickly, but I realized what he was going to do with plenty of time to stop it if I wanted to.
I do not want to.
The kiss is as good as everything else he does. Maybe better. If the guy kissed me like this every day, he wouldn’t have to cook for me. Other people can cook for me. It seems that Jefferson is the only person who can kiss me like this.
I feel myself melting into him, leaning into his body, opening my mouth for his insistent tongue, loving the way he uses the hand on my head to tip it back so he can kiss me more deeply.
When he finally lifts his head and looks down at me, I can see a heat and a slightly dazed look in his eyes as well.
“I could kiss you just like that for an entire hour,” he says, his voice husky.
“But then you’d only make two dollars.”
He gives me a soft smile. “I can’t imagine kissing anybody else after that. How about we go over and just write a check?”
The kiss, the way he’s looking at me, the memory of how he looked coming up out of the water, the fact there are three foster cats back at his house, all combine at once and I feel my chest tighten.
Uh oh.
I more than like Jefferson Riley.
And I was completely right about private kisses being a lot more dangerous than public ones.