4. Harrison
CHAPTER 4
Harrison
I hear the clink of glassware and the water running in the kitchenette of the suite.
I crack one eye open and spot Liam at the coffee pot. I’m on the couch, where I’ve slept fitfully for the past six hours. I glance toward the door to the suite. Ford is still awkwardly draped over the two armchairs he dragged across the room and positioned in front of the door to keep Ivy from sneaking out.
Liam had taken the other side of the gigantic king bed with her, presumably in case she needed anything in the night. But at about two a.m., Ford and I had caught her trying to sneak out to meet some friends who had texted her, asking her to meet them at a dance club.
She definitely didn’t need any more alcohol and Ford wasn’t about to let the newly single, more than slightly tipsy, no-fucks-left-to-give jilted bride go dancing without us to chaperone. And neither of us was in any mood to hit a club at that hour.
My best friend has had a thing for Ivy for over a year. And while he’s too good of a guy to make a move on a friend's girlfriend, and certainly not on a friend‘s fiancée, I know it’s been gnawing at him that he didn’t make a move before Brad and Ivy started dating.
Oh no, Ford, ever the good guy, met Ivy, flirted his ass off, then found out she was working on Brad’s show and decided he shouldn’t mess around with our friend’s pseudo-employee.
Ivy was a food stylist on the show where Brad was the star chef. But he was also an executive producer. And had been the one who decided to hire Ivy. She’s extremely talented and I’m certain he hired her because of her professional credentials, but it did put him in a position of power over her and boy scout Ford decided that was messy.
He was really angry when he found out Brad was dating her. He even told Brad he didn’t think it was a good idea.
When they got engaged, Ford got very drunk.
All of which makes his anger at Brad and the fucked up wedding even more intense, I’m sure.
What sounds like a spoon clatters against the inside of the sink and I rub a hand over my face. “Jesus Christ, William,” I say. “There are far nicer ways to wake me up.”
I make sure both of my eyes are open in time to see Liam swing to face me with his adorable glower.
“You’re going to start with your bullshit this early?” he asks.
I know he’s referring to my perpetual poking at him.
And yes. Yes, I am.
It’s his own fault. He always looks like he just tumbled out of bed, though he typically is fully shaved and at least in jeans or khakis. Right now he’s got stubble dusting his jaw, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants.
How am I not supposed to want to rile him up looking grumpy and sexy and so damned fuckable?
He’s just about the only person on the planet who can get me worked up and thrown off my game. And it’s one of my favorite things to see him unsettled ever since I realized that the seemingly shy, introverted writer—who is actually pompous as fuck underneath—is normally cool and composed.
It seems I’m one of the few people who can get to him too.
I like that.
I fucked up with Liam. I’ll be the first to admit it. Not because I walked away after our night together, but because I let that night happen in the first place.
He was supposed to be nothing more than a hot, younger guy I had a weekend fling with. I wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for him, so I admittedly ran away. I wasn’t supposed to still be constantly thinking about him a month later when I was trying to date other people. I certainly wasn’t supposed to be getting turned on whenever I saw him a year later. But here we are. So if I’m going to be unable to ignore the chemistry between us, I’m going to make sure he can’t ignore it as well.
I sit up, stretching my arms overhead, watching him watch me. I’m shirtless, wearing only a loose pair of athletic shorts. I stand up from the couch, rubbing my hand over my lower stomach, then pad toward the kitchen. Toward him.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to start early.”
“For the love of Christ, could you two please coexist in the same room for ten fucking minutes without giving me a headache?” Ford asks from beside the door.
He’s going to be a bear today. There’s no way he slept well on those chairs, plus the woman he’s crazy about and who he’s assumed is totally off limits is newly single. There’s no hope he won’t be in a lousy mood.
“What are you doing over there?” Liam asks.
“Ivy decided that more tequila shots and dancing sounded like a good idea in the middle of the night,“ I fill in. “It took both of us and promises of bacon and Oreos this morning to get her to go back to bed.”
Liam frowns. “I didn’t hear her get up.”
I reach up and pat his cheek. “We know.”
He jerks back, then stomps across the small space and opens a cupboard. I don’t think he needs anything inside that cupboard, he’s just trying to get away from me.
I shouldn’t be such an asshole. I was the one who left him sleeping the morning after our amazing night and then didn’t return his initial phone calls. And then when I did finally pick up, did so while on a date with someone else.
He has every reason to be pissed at me.
But I can’t leave him alone. And I can’t admit the feelings I have for him. So I’m resorting to my usual habit of doing whatever feels good and trusting it will work out.
Yes, I am a spoiled rich brat. Raised with a silver spoon in my mouth. Think I walk on water. The whole nine yards. I own it. But usually that’s not a problem. The world bends for me, but not Liam.
“Put on a fucking shirt,” he tells me.
“Please,” I toss back.
He turns and meets my gaze directly. “Do it.”
This little fucker. He’s younger than me, as a writer in Hollywood makes a pittance compared to me, isn’t impressed by my wealth, doesn’t give a shit about the fancy restaurants I own or the celebrities I’ve rubbed elbows with. And yet, when we were together, I was the one saying please .
A shirt hits me in the back of the head and I turn to find Ford in the kitchen with us. He reaches for a cup, jams it underneath the single cup coffee maker, and jabs the button to start it brewing.
“Where’s Ivy?” he asks Liam.
“In the shower.”
Ford’s eyes jump to the bedroom door. My friend is clearly interested in the idea of his obsession naked and wet behind that door.
I shake my head. This situation with the four of us is messy as hell.
“I came out to get coffee and find the room service menu,” Liam says. “Her hangover is in full swing. She needs caffeine and food before we can figure anything else out.“
“What is there to figure out?” I ask.
“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” Liam says, propping himself against the counter furthest from me, and crossing his arms. “Maybe her entire life? Everything is up in the air now, thanks to your asshole friend. She needs to make a new plan.”
I don’t comment on my asshole friend. I’m no fan of Brad’s right now. “As far as I can see, she dodged a bullet,” I tell him. “I say she sells that gigantic engagement ring, uses the money on something completely frivolous for herself, then goes back to her life as if nothing happened. Screw Brad.”
Liam’s eyes widen. “You mean the life where she worked for the show where Brad is the big star? Where all of the viewers of that show knew they were getting married? The life where she quit that job because Brad convinced her to move to South Fucking Carolina?”
“Hey now,” I say as I pull my shirt over my head and jam my arms through the sleeves. “Leave South Carolina out of this. It’s not South Carolina’s fault.” It’s home. It’s where Ford and Brad and I grew up. It’s where Ford and I live the majority of the time. It’s where we fell in love with the restaurant business and opened our flagship restaurant, Raw.
Liam rolls his eyes in a pretentious way that makes me want to grab him and kiss him until he admits that he likes at least one thing that came out of South Carolina.
“She doesn’t have a job. She doesn’t have a place to live. She’s been living with Brad. They were going to move into some house in South Carolina. What is she supposed to do now? She needs a new plan. She’s basically homeless,” Liam says.
“So we’ll help her make a new plan,” Ford says easily.
My buddy is a problem solver. I’m the people person in our business, charming and schmoozing people. He’s the get shit done guy. He deals with numbers, obstacles, and keeps hiccups from turning into disasters. It does not surprise me one bit that he is already in fix-it mode for Ivy.
“Oh, shit.” I turn and walk over to the coffee table. “I helped Ivy‘s parents deal with all the gifts, but there was this one left over.” I pick up the flat rectangular box and head back to the kitchen. I hand it to Ford.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I have no idea. But look who it’s from.”
He flips the tag on top and reads. Then he scowls. “This fucker . What is he up to?”
Liam frowns. “What is it?”
“It’s from Brad,” I say.
Liam leans in and grabs the box from Ford. He rips the paper off.
“Hey, you think you should do that?” Ford asks.
“Preemptively check what other fuckery Brad is up to?” Liam asks, pulling the box top off. “Yes.” He pulls out a short stack of papers, letting the box and wrapping paper drop to the floor. He reads the top page, then flips to the second, then the third.
“What is it?” Ford asks.
Liam looks up. “Brad gave her the house.”
“What house?” I ask. But a second later, the answer hits me.
“The house in South Carolina,” Liam confirms.
“What do you mean, he gave me the house?”
We all turn to find Ivy standing just outside the bedroom door.
Damn, this girl keeps sneaking up on us. She’s like a ninja.
I hear Liam sigh. He steps past me to stand right in front of her. “This is a gift from Brad.” He hands her the papers. “Apparently, the house in South Carolina is fully yours. It’s all paid for. But everything connected to it is in your name.“ He pauses. “Only your name.”
Ivy takes the papers, staring at the top page for several seconds before looking up at her friend. “I don’t want the house in South Carolina.”
Liam nods. “I know.”
“So why would he do this?” she asks.
“His letter says it’s an apology. For leaving you. He didn’t want you to be without anything.” Liam says the last word weakly.
Ivy holds her hand out for the letter, and Liam passes it to her. I see her scan it, lips pressing together. It must be short but it's mere seconds later that she’s looking back up at us. “That’s literally all it says,” she says, sounding mystified. “No explanation for anything.”
I look at Ford. Brad has turned into a gigantic dickhead over the past couple of years since his cooking show has taken off. But still, I can’t believe this is the guy that we grew up with.
Ford looks murderous.
“We will fix this,” he says firmly. “You don’t have to keep a house you don’t want.”
She looks at him. “So what am I going to do?”
Ford uses that as a reason to walk past me and go to stand in front of her with Liam.
I’ve never seen my friend like this about a woman. Ford gets plenty of attention from the female variety. Sometimes male too, but he doesn’t care about that. Ford dates. He’s very romantic. He’s a great guy. He takes care of everyone around him. But I’ve never seen him actually enamored with any of the women he’s dated. It’s like none of them have really fit before.
But I remember the night he met Ivy. And how he reacted after he realized he shouldn’t pursue her.
I also remember the night he found out that Brad was dating her. I don’t think Ford has been that drunk since college.
He has tried to drink her out of his system, work her out of his system, fuck her out of his system with other women. And none of it has worked. He tries to hide it, but every time we are around her, even when it’s with Brad, I can tell it kills Ford a little.
And now she’s single.
And in need.
This is Ford’s fucking kryptonite.
He is in so much trouble.
I study her now as Liam and Ford flip through the pages of the agreement Brad left for her.
She really is beautiful. I’ve always thought so, of course. And she is funny, and sweet, and has this elegant sophistication about her that I find fascinating. She has amazing taste in everything, but it seems second nature. Even now, hung over, fresh out of the shower, she’s wearing an outfit that is clearly supposed to be for lounging, but is made of expensive material and is matched and perfectly fitted to her trim frame. Her hair is pulled into a loose but stylish French braid that hangs over one shoulder, and even without makeup and hungover her skin is glowing.
She carries herself with an easy, confident air, and is always composed. In fact, yesterday at the wedding was the first time I’ve ever seen her anything but totally put together. And yet, even with all of that, she makes everyone around her feel at ease.
I am amazing at working a room full of people. I’m not at all intimidated by power, status, or wealth. But my charm is more exuberant. I’ve seen Ivy do the same thing I do—mingle, and charm, and convince everyone around her that she's right about whatever she’s saying—but with a soft, sophisticated ease.
Studying her now, I think about that and the fact that the two of us together could probably run the United Nations easily and peacefully.
“I don’t want this fucking house!” she exclaims.
I have to grin. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Ivy say the word fucking. That’s not only amusing but it makes it more impactful honestly.
“You’ll sell it,” Ford says, his tone calm and confident.
Of course I would’ve never asked Ivy out. When I met her, Ford was already enamored—that took about five minutes—then Brad was dating her and then engaged to her. And then there’s Liam.
I study the guy again while he’s unaware.
Ivy and Liam are best friends. I never would’ve met him if it wasn’t for Ivy. He had been invited to the same party because of her. Ford and I were there because of Brad. It was some celebration for their show getting picked up for the second season.
Yes, I find Ivy absolutely attractive and I love dating women, too. But once I met Liam, he was my focus that night.
“How am I going to sell a house in South Carolina?“ Ivy asks Ford.
“Well, it probably would be best if you went to Honeysuckle Harbor,” he says.
Ivy sighs and looks like she might cry for a moment.
Liam reaches out and takes her hand. “You were going to make that trip anyway. Just go. Sell the house. Then you can come back here. You know you can stay with me as long as you need to.”
She gives a short little laugh. “I love you, but your apartment is not exactly…”
“Sleep on the street then,” Liam says with a shrug.
But Ivy is giving him a very affectionate smile. “Thank you.” She lifts a hand and rubs it over her forehead. “I guess I’m driving to South Carolina.”
I frown, but Ford says what I’m thinking before I can.
“You’re driving to South Carolina?”
She lifts a shoulder. “We were moving there. I need my car to get around once I’m there. And all of my worldly belongings have already been taken there by the moving company.”
That all sinks in. Brad was going to be driving with her. Now she’s alone.
“You are not making that trip by yourself,” Ford says. “I’ll drive with you.”
Her eyes widen, and for a second I think she’s going to protest. I should tell her there is no point. Ford will absolutely not let her drive by herself.
But Ivy’s smart. She nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I’ll come with you,” Liam says. He shoots a quick frown at Ford.
I want to laugh. He’s incredibly brilliant. I’m not surprised that he has picked up on the fact that Ford has feelings for his bestie. Plus, Ivy doesn’t know Ford that well. And it’s a long ass trip from California to South Carolina.
“You’re going to come?” Ivy asks. “Can you take the time?”
“I can write on the road,” Liam says, seemingly unconcerned.
She looks up at Ford. “Well, then you don’t have to come. Liam can keep me company.”
I grin, waiting for Ford's very predictable answer.
“I’m still coming.”
There’s obviously no reason for Ford to make this drive with Ivy. Except that he wants to.
I decide to help my buddy out. Plus, this will really rub a certain broody writer the wrong way.
“Road trip!” I say enthusiastically. “I’m in.”
They all turn to look at me.
“You don’t need to come,” Liam says bluntly. With that cute glower.
“But I’m going to,” I tell him with a grin. “It’s been a long time since I took a good road trip. But I’m telling you right now, it’s Twizzlers all the way. No fucking Red Vines.”
Liam just studies me.
And I know my grumpy onetime lover is figuring out there is no way out of this.
He might be bossy as fuck in the bedroom and pissed as hell at me, but I’m stubborn and have nowhere I need to be any time soon. I’m coming on this road trip. Whether he likes it or not.
Ford looks from me to Liam to Ivy and then back to me. “So the four of us are going to road trip from California to South Carolina?”
I nod. “Looks like it.”
Ford shakes his head. “What could possibly go wrong?”