Chapter 9
“So what did he say?”
Sage paused. “He said that my shoes were cool.”
Harlow hummed meaningfully. “And what did you say?”
“I don’t know, Mom, I just said thanks, I think?” The girl groaned, and the sound came out muffled like she was covering her mouth. When she spoke again, though, I could hear her clearly from where I stood in my bathroom. “He’s so cute, and his eyes are so blue, I’ve never seen eyes like his in my entire life. And when I saw him again on the playground, my whole body like, froze, and my heart was pounding, and I thought I was going to throw up.”
My reflection showed a smile before I registered the movement. My hair was still slightly damp from my shower, so I used some product that Poppy shoved into my hands the last time she saw me (something about texture and extra hold and how no one likes an unkempt man), tied it back into a ponytail, then washed the stuff off my hands and pushed my shirt sleeves up onto my forearms. I’d spent most of my Saturday helping Cameron with something at his house, but managed to sneak back home for a shower before heading over to my mom’s for dinner with Cameron, Ivy and Poppy. My sister Adaline was home from Seattle, too, sans her fiancé.
I kept the bathroom door cracked, because there was something comforting in listening to Sage and Harlow. At Sage’s age, I’d never thought about talking to my parents about the sort of stuff she confided to Harlow. Maybe it was a ten-year-old boy versus a ten-year-old girl thing, or maybe it was because I’d had Harlow.
Sage was still getting her footing at her new school, and the ease with which they talked things over reminded me, yet again, what a fucking amazing mother Harlow was.
“So you didn’t actually throw up,” Harlow confirmed.
“No.”
“Phew. That would’ve been awkward but not impossible to overcome.”
Sage giggled.
As I left the bathroom, I switched off the light and found them sitting at the table, Uno cards in hand, bright green goo covering their faces.
“Wha…”
Harlow gave me a sunny smile. “It’s a moisturizing facial. Want some?”
My brows flattened. “I think I’ll pass.”
“You should.” Sage crossed her eyes to try to look down her nose. “It feels so nice. Mom keeps it in the fridge, so it stays cold.”
“I thought that was leftovers that went bad.”
Harlow laughed, rising from the table to brush past me to open the fridge door. The container in her hand did indeed hold an alarming amount of the green crap. Her eyes glittered as she approached, and once she’d removed the cap, she dipped her finger inside and held it up toward me.
“Harlow,” I said slowly.
“Oh, come on.” She arched an eyebrow. “Scared of a little soft skin?”
A growling noise came from deep in my throat, but she merely smiled and took a few more steps, erasing the distance between us. She rolled up onto the balls of her feet, watching my eyes closely.
Through the mask on her face, her dimple appeared, and I knew I was a fucking goner.
“Don’t get it in my beard,” I warned.
“I won’t.” When she touched the tip of her finger to the bridge of my nose, the cold sensation made me pull in a quick breath, which deepened her smile. “See? Feels pretty nice.”
I didn’t even dare breathe because, standing this close, I could smell her—something clean and fruity. Or maybe it was the shit she was putting on my face.
Harlow spread it gently over my nose and got one more dollop for my cheeks. She rolled her lips together, fighting a laugh as she pulled away. “You look so handsome. We should really take a picture so we don’t ever forget this memory.”
“I will kick you out so fast, sparky.”
Her laugh was light and amused, and when she stepped toward the fridge again, I finally let out a loaded exhale.
Sage poked at her forehead. “Will my skin turn green if it sits for too long?”
“Highly doubtful.” Harlow leaned her face into the kitchen sink and cupped water into her hands, scrubbing at her face until the green was gone. Blindly, she reached for some paper towels, and I took pity, tearing off a few squares and setting them in her hand so she could dry her face.
When she finished patting her skin dry, her eyes lingered on my face, and she laughed again.
“When can I wash this off?” I asked, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Soon.”
Damn, that smile would be the death of me, I just knew it.
Sage bumped past me. “My turn.”
When she was finished scrubbing her face, Harlow helped her dry her face, then gave me a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, go ahead.”
The green washed off easily, and as I dried my face, I watched her walk back to her seat at the table.
Harlow was wearing those short fucking shorts again. An early November burst of above-average temps had her dressing like it was in the eighties, not the sixties. Today, her T-shirt was a faded purple, the sleeves cut off, and the NYU logo in white across her chest. Her hair was piled on top of her head, anchored in place with a pencil, and I tried not to stare at it because I wanted to figure out how the fuck that worked.
Earlier in the day, she and Sage had done some cleaning around the house even though I’d told her that wasn’t necessary. But apparently, we had a chore chart now. It was on the side of the fridge, held up by a magnet of the Statue of Liberty, and the two of them had taken the bulk of it.
I tapped it when they restarted their Uno game. “Do I get a sticker if I clean my toilet?”
Harlow arched an eyebrow. “No. Just a metaphorical pat on the back.”
“I get money if I clean mine,” Sage piped up. “I’d rather scrub toilets than fold laundry.”
“Same, kid,” I muttered.
“At least you’re folding your own laundry,” she continued, eyes on the cards in her hand. “Mom’s underwear is all lacy, and I won’t touch it.”
My eyes locked onto Harlow’s face, and I watched with unbridled fascination as she refused to look in my direction, color crawling up the length of her neck and blooming on her cheeks. The color was a spectacular shade of pink.
“That so?” I asked. It was nothing short of a miracle that my voice came out so smoothly, because there was a violent sort of splitting in my head, the immediate flash of long legs and colored lace making my temples throb.
Fuck, maybe I needed to get laid. It had been too long. Far too long.
“Okay,” Harlow interrupted. “You forgot to call Uno, I win.”
Sage sat back and blinked. “That’s not how it works.”
“It does in this round.” She collected the cards and kept her gaze squarely on the table. “What are you up to this evening?”
I licked at my bottom lip, waiting to see if she’d look at me, but nope. She was going to dig in her heels on this one. “Heading to my mom’s for dinner. Wanna come?”
Harlow paused as she shuffled the cards. Her cheeks were still that bright shade of pink. “Oh, I don’t know if we should intrude.”
“My mom would love it,” I said truthfully. “Adaline is in town for a couple of nights from Seattle. They’re working on some wedding plans.”
Finally, that broke her mini standoff. “Adaline is engaged? That’s great.”
“He’s all right,” I conceded. “They’re getting married later this year. Need to wait until the season is done.”
While she was helping clear the table, Sage’s movements slowed. “What season?”
I fought a grin. “Football.”
She blinked a few times. “Who’s your sister engaged to?” she asked in a hushed whisper.
My pause was a bit more dramatic than necessary, but I couldn’t help it. “Emmett Ward.”
The cards fell out of her hands, and her butt plopped back into her seat. “The all-pro quarterback from the Washington Wolves?” she asked on a squeak. “Son of Logan Ward, the best defensive coach of the last decade?”
Harlow watched her daughter with a soft smile on her face.
I tapped my chin. “Yeah, that would be the one.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
Harlow cleared her throat.
Sage gave her a look. “Sorry. But Mom, this isn’t normal. He knows so many football players.” Then she swung terrified eyes in my direction. “They won’t be there tonight, will they? I can’t go if they’ll be there.”
“You wouldn’t want to meet them?” Harlow asked. “Think of what an amazing story that would be at school.” She nudged Sage’s arm. “You’d definitely have something to talk about with Grant.”
Sage’s cheeks bloomed fire-engine red, and she gave me a horror-filled look.
“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I lied. “And no, there will be no professional football players at family dinner tonight. Emmett plays in Green Bay tomorrow, which is why Adaline came home. Parker and Beckett play in Denver, and I’m pretty sure Greer traveled along for that game.”
Her frame melted a little. “You’re sure they won’t be there?”
I held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Harlow brushed past me. “You were never a Boy Scout, and they use three fingers for a salute, not two.”
I gave her a look. “It is obnoxious how much random knowledge you have.”
Sage laughed when her mom stuck her tongue out at me.
“You get the point,” I told Sage. “I promise they won’t be there.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“You really wouldn’t want to go otherwise?” I asked, trading a brief questioning look with Harlow. She shrugged.
“No,” Sage said. “I’d panic. Can you imagine if we’re sitting at dinner and Parker asks me to pass the salt, and I blurt out that he needs to work on his rush blocking if he expects their run game to improve?”
I locked eyes with her. “I would pay you cold hard cash to say something like that to him.”
Harlow burst out laughing, and Sage cracked a tiny smile. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Only way to find out, kid.” I jerked my chin up. “You guys coming or what?”
They shared a wordless exchange, and Harlow conceded with a nod, then looked over at me. “Sure, thanks for the invite. I’d love to see your sisters again, since someone seems to have scared his family off from dropping by,” she said.
I held her gaze unapologetically.
Harlow rolled her eyes. “Give me five minutes to change.”
“That’s all?” I eyed the hair.
She smacked me in the stomach as she passed. “Make it three, now that you said that.”
Three and a half minutes later, Harlow skipped down the steps, having swapped her shorts for leggings and the NYU shirt for a soft-looking denim button-down. The pencil had disappeared, and her dark hair was slicked back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few stray hairs framing her face. Her lashes were … lashier. Darker. Something a bit more than they had been.
“How did you do that so fast?”
She winked. “It’s a skill, I know.”
Sage was outside waiting for us, and I pulled a book from the package I’d had delivered earlier that day. “Ready? Just needed to grab my book in case I have time to read tonight.”
Harlow wasn’t looking at me as she tied the laces on her tennis shoes. “At your family dinner?” she asked.
I flipped through the book, pausing to study the back cover. “You never know. Besides, this looks good.” I started reading from the description. “In the harsh backwoods of the south, you never know who’s watching the sins being committed, but I do…”
Harlow’s hands slowed, her whole frame going stiff as a board. Slowly, so very slowly, she lifted her gaze to the book I was holding in my hand.
With a snap, I closed the cover and flipped it so she could see the front clearly.
The Sin Watcherby Hollis King.
Her face went white. Her eyes huge in her face.
“That little traitor,” she breathed.
“I’m excited to start it.”
“Sage Margot Keaton,” she yelled, storming past me. “You are in so much trouble.”
I left the book sitting on the table, and as I exited the house, I whistled a happy little tune.
The three of us piled into my truck. Sage was still laughing about the book, Harlow could hardly look at me, and I was in the best mood I could remember in a long time.
Even walking up the front porch steps at the main house, I didn’t feel that sucking sense of unease in my gut, the one I always got going inside the house now. Sage and Harlow followed me, and I was so much more focused on them, and praying that Cameron would behave his damn self that I hardly spared a glance at the chair my dad always used to sit in every morning.
Hand on the doorknob, I paused and glanced over my shoulder. “You ready for this?”
Harlow nodded. “Yup.”
Sage looked between us and shrugged. “How should I know? I’ve never done it before.”
I was smiling when I pushed open the door, and the sight of Harlow and Sage behind me raised the noise level about thirty percent. There were shrieks and hugging and a lot of oh my gosh, look at you! being tossed back and forth.
Adaline hugged her a couple of times, gushing over Sage and immediately hooking her arm in Harlow’s to drag her into the kitchen.
“Nice to see you, too, Adaline,” I called out when she completely ignored me.
She speared me with a narrowing of her eyes. “I saw you two weeks ago, you big baby.”
Sheila laughed, then approached with her arms open. “I’ll give you a hug.”
“Thanks.” Over the top of her head, I nodded at Cameron and Ivy, who were deep in the middle of an intense-looking chess game. After Sheila patted my face and walked away, I went to stand next to Cameron. “I don’t know why you keep playing her,” I said. “She always wins.”
Cameron set his chin on his hand and studied the board. “Some day, I’ll beat her.”
“Not today,” Ivy said smoothly.
He flicked a heated glance in her direction, and I shook my head.
“Brought the whole family over, huh?” he said quietly.
“Honest to God, Cameron, I’ll punch you in the nuts if you make a single comment like that at the dinner table.”
Ivy gave me an amused little smile. “Just ignore him. He’ll let it go eventually.”
“Will he, though?” I muttered.
Cameron laughed good-naturedly.
From the kitchen, Sheila wrapped her arms around Sage’s shoulders and showed her where the games were, if she wanted to pick something while we waited to eat.
“I might need an Uno rematch,” Sage said. “My mom cheated.”
“I did not,” Harlow tossed back. “Mom’s prerogative to end the game early, okay?”
Sheila laughed. “You were playing games before you came over?”
Sage nodded. “And doing moisturizing face masks.” She beamed in my direction. “See how nice Ian’s skin looks? He did one too.”
The room went quiet, a stunned silence that had my stomach dropping somewhere into my feet.
Fucking. Hell.
Poppy slapped a hand over her mouth, and Adaline choked on her water. Harlow bit down on her bottom lip, her smile spreading immediately. Cameron merely sat back in his chair and sighed happily. “Oh, Sage, you have no idea how glad I am you’re here. Why don’t you come tell me more stories?”
As I stomped to the fridge to get a much-needed beer, Harlow lost her battle, her peals of laughter getting lost among my mom’s and my sister’s. It felt like the first time in weeks and weeks that the sounds of happiness filled the room, and even if it was at my expense, I found myself smiling when no one was watching.