Tangled Desires (Wattle Creek #3)

4

I ’m sprawled on Isla’s couch, sinking into the pillows like they’ve been made just for me. Isla flips through the pizza menu one-handed, while she breastfeeds Callie.

“Okay, how about pepperoni for Xav and I. Midge, what do you want?” Isla asks.

“Pepperoni with extra cheese, babe, yeah? Can’t ever have enough cheese,” Xavier cuts in, pressing a kiss to Isla’s head and running a hand over Callie’s back. They’ve truly found something beautiful together, and it warms my heart.

“Sure thing,” Isla hums.

“Supreme, with extra pineapple,” I declare, knowing full well it’s a controversial choice, but relishing in the playful banter that’s sure to follow.

“Pineapple? What is wrong with you?” Xavier groans, like I’ve just suggested dog food.

“Your loss.”

“Doubt it.” He plops down beside Isla as she starts ordering, but Xavier holds up a hand.

“Hang on,” he says, checking his phone.

“What now?” Isla frowns.

“We’ve got company.”

“Company?” My eyes narrow. “Bradley and Amelia?”

Xavier’s smirk turns sly. “Those two? They’re off in lovebird land. You’d need a crowbar to pry them apart.”

A sinking suspicion hits me. “If you say Harrison, I swear I’ll kill you.” Isla giggles while Xavier’s smirk widens.

“Oh, well, that’s great,” I mutter. “Can’t I just enjoy my friends’ company without him barging in?”

“Sorry, Midge. Couldn’t turn him down. He was too persistent,” Xavier retorts.

“Weak,” I deadpan. “Did you tell him I was here? Is that why he’s sniffing around?”

“Not a chance,” he says, laughing. “But his face lights up when he sees you. Can’t deprive him of that.”

“Oh, fuck off.” My eyes roll so hard they might get stuck. Isla giggles again, fully enjoying my suffering.

“I think it’s cute!” Isla murmurs with a grin.

“It really isn’t.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Xavier announces.

“Fantastic.” I sink deeper into the cushions, blowing out a breath. The car park flashes in my head—the grind of his thigh, his grip, the goddamn nerve of him to be so good at everything he does. My thighs clench involuntarily, and I curse under my breath. No. Not tonight. That was a mistake. A weak, needy moment. Except his mouth, his cocky-as-hell smirk—they’ve been looping in my brain like a dirty playlist I can’t turn off.

“‘Be here soon,’ my ass,” I grumble, drumming my fingers on the counter. “We could’ve ordered, eaten, and had a nap by now.” Isla snorts beside me, far too entertained for someone who should be equally annoyed. Xavier’s in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards, pretending he’s immune to the tension.

“Should’ve just ordered for them,” Isla says, reading my mind.

“Ladies,” Xavier cuts in, sliding a glass of wine my way. “The pizza will be here in no time. Settle your nerves.” I narrow my eyes, but wine is wine, and my patience is long gone.

“Cheers,” I mutter.

Isla suddenly places Callie into my arms like she’s handing over a bag of groceries. “Hold her for me while I pee.”

“Wait—what?!” My arms flail slightly as I clutch the baby, stiff as a damn board. “You can’t just—”

“You’re fine. She’ll be fine,” Isla says, grinning before disappearing down the hall.

Callie stares up at me, wide-eyed and blissfully unaware of my sheer incompetence. Her tiny fingers twitch against the blanket, and she’s so small she might blow away with a sneeze. I awkwardly rock her, like I’ve seen people do in movies, praying she doesn’t start screaming.

“She’s got your eyes,” I mumble to Xavier, marvelling at her resemblance to him.

“And Isla’s temperament,” he says, smirking. “Thank God for that.”

Isla returns, scooping Callie back from me. “See? A natural.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I’ll be signing up for babysitting duties anytime soon.”

The front door slams open, and in saunters Harrison, loud as ever, with Michael trailing behind him carrying pizza. “Who’s hungry?” Harrison announces, smacking his hands together. White t-shirt, distressed jeans, tattoos, and that bloody backward cap—he looks like a damn poster boy for trouble. My jaw clenches as his muscles flex with every move, the inked designs drawing the eye despite my best efforts to look anywhere else.

I hate how my pulse quickens, how my breath catches in my throat. God, I just hate myself sometimes.

“Me!” Isla chirps, settling Callie into her bouncer, the smell of pizza wafting in like salvation.

“About time,” Xavier teases, giving Harrison a shove. “Imogen was ready to riot.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Harrison shoots back, his smirk locking onto me like a heat-seeking missile.

“You think you’re funny?” Arms crossed, brow arched, the words snap out before I can stop them.

“Always,” he fires back with a wink, snagging a slice. I grab my supreme—extra pineapple, obviously—while Michael eyes it with a grimace.

“How do people eat that?” he asks, cracking open a box loaded with an unhealthy amount of anchovies. It’s literally dry, salty fish.

I nearly gag. “You’re judging me with that ?”

He chuckles. “Touché, Immy.”

“Oh, he’s got you saying that now, too?” My glare flicks to Harrison, who’s grinning.

“Catches on quick,” Harrison says with a wink.

The lounge smells like cheesy heaven as we load our plates. I claim the two-seater—finally a bit of space. Or not. The others pile onto the three-seater, leaving exactly one seat free. Right next to me. Of course. Harrison parks himself next to me, and his thigh brushes mine as he settles, with a pizza box balanced effortlessly on his lap. The heat radiating off him, the faint scent of cologne mixed with grease—yeah, he’s doing it on purpose. I bite into my slice, keeping my eyes firmly on anything that isn’t his stupid smirk. Being this close to him, feeling the heat radiate from his body, makes it so fucking hard to keep my composure. You know what? Fuck him. If he’s waiting for me to react, he’ll be waiting all night. Probably grinning the whole damn time, too.

“Alright, what movie are we watching?” Isla scrolls through the options on the TV, chewing her bottom lip like she’s defusing a bomb.

“Action,” Michael tosses out, earning an immediate groan from Isla.

“Rom-com,” Xavier counters, clearly stirring the pot.

“No way,” Harrison says, leaning back. “Horror. Blood, guts, the whole lot.”

Normally, I’d be in the fray, arguing for something decent—not that overly sappy crap Isla loves or the testosterone-packed nonsense Michael picks. But tonight? Nothing. The debate washes over me like white noise. The real problem is parked right next to me, too damn close. Harrison’s arm keeps grazing mine, all casual and infuriating, while his smirk practically screams, Come on, Imogen, take the bait.

My jaw sets tighter with every brush of his skin. There’s a buzzing in my chest, a mix of irritation and… well, something worse. But hell if I’ll let him see it. No way am I giving him that satisfaction.

Isla lands on The Invisible Man , some halfway-decent thriller that might keep everyone happy. The opening credits roll, and the room falls quiet, save for the occasional crunch of pizza crust. The plot starts building—dark house, creepy silences, you know the drill—but my focus? Shot to hell. Harrison is sitting way too fucking close, and it’s impossible to ignore. And that damn smirk of his, cocky and infuriating, like he knows exactly how deep he’s gotten under my skin.

The worst part? I can’t trust myself around him tonight. My traitorous body has other ideas. It’s like my heart’s staging a gymnastics routine just because he’s within arm’s reach. My nerves are on edge, and I can’t decide if I want to punch him or… no, just punch him.

Definitely punch him.

A jump scare on the screen has Isla yelping, clutching her blanket like it’s going to save her. Michael points. “Did you see that shadow? Behind her, right before she turned.”

“What shadow? He’s invisible . You know, like the title says?”

“It’s subtle,” Xavier says. “Little movements. Like when the air rippled behind her. Creepy as hell.”

“Regret levels are peaking,” Isla mutters, pulling her blanket tighter.

Xavier chuckles, unbothered. “You’ll survive.”

Another sudden scare has me flinching, and Harrison’s arm brushes mine. The touch catches me off guard, almost grounding me for half a second before my mind slams on the brakes. Like hell he’s going to throw me off.

“Jumping already, Midge?” His voice is low, close, and laced with way too much amusement.

“Not even. Now be quiet and watch the movie.” My snap lacks its usual bite, and judging by the grin on his face, he knows it.