Chapter 3
HARLOW
Gloria walks back and forth as she examines our group sitting in a circle. Her fingers steepling as if she is debating her next move.
“Well,” she sighs. “It seems our plans need to change.”
Yep, we’re all in trouble.
She continues, “It seems that our afternoon of inspiration took a turn. Brett and Jennifer got lost, and it required the forest ranger to save them. Frank and Greg decided that saving a lost dog, although noble, was their mission for the afternoon.” Gloria stops in front of Stone and me.
“And you two decided to ditch the trail and head into town for milkshakes.” I open my mouth, but she raises her finger to stop me.
“Yes, I saw you two cozied up at Jolly Joe’s while I was exiting the general store with supplies. ”
Stone raises his hand to calm her. “Whoa there with the accusations.”
Jennifer gently pats Brett’s arm. “See, I told you they had vibes.”
Stone and I scan the room, kind of in surprise that we’ve become the gossip of the group.
Stone ignores everyone. “Jolly Joe’s is an establishment full of inspiration.
Just the other day Sheriff Carter had a breakup with the new nurse in town.
I’m sure in Harlow’s world she’s already concocting a reunion in her head. ”
“Yeah,” I state a little too boldly. I don’t, but fine, I’ll roll with this.
Gloria doesn’t look amused and instead claps her hands together and surveys the room again.
“Well, I think that our change of plans calls for self-reflection time and writing. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning bright and early, ready to share how our word count went this evening.
We’ll head straight into editing techniques tomorrow morning to avoid any of you veering off course. ”
Stone leans into me to whisper, “This no longer feels like a retreat. Did we just get schooled?”
“Tell me about it. I’m questioning ditching tomorrow and heading to the spa.”
Everyone begins to stand to depart the room.
“Want to grab dinner? I have connections to get us a good table at the restaurant here. There is normally a waiting list,” Stone asks, maybe a little too hopeful.
To my surprise, the day took a turn, and it was an enjoyable afternoon with him. A click between us that I can’t ignore. As great as that sounds, though, it’s all the more reason to take a step back.
“I’m kind of stuffed from that shake, and evening is my prime writing time. Maybe a rain check?”
“That would imply you want to see me another time.”
I sputter a sound. “Well, we are stuck together for a few days, so it does seem likely.”
“Lucky me.” He flashes me a suave grin before he heads off.
I can’t help but smile to myself. He’s a peculiar soul.
For sure, at first appearance, he seems like a stereotypical athlete with a personality problem.
But when you scrape the surface, he has a few specks of softness and something else, I can only determine it to be confidence.
It crossed my mind what he would be like with a woman, but as soon as that thought entered my mind, I pushed it away out of habit.
But I’m not sure if it’s a habit at all.
By the time I get to my room, I’m tired and eager to strip out of my clothes and take a shower. I don’t head into my pajamas, though, and instead opt for jeans and a t-shirt. My social media posts will have to wait for tomorrow morning because I did nab a quick photo earlier of my shake.
Taking a seat behind the desk, I bring my knee to my chest as I open my laptop and prepare myself to write.
Admittedly, the inspirational walk in the woods, although rules were broken, fulfilled Gloria’s goal.
Ideas are swirling in my head. I don’t write small-town romance, mostly billionaire assholes, but our publisher insists I maybe need to head into another direction. I’m dreading that.
I have one problem tonight, though.
I’m supposed to be writing a spicy chapter. This is my ultimate escape. Where I can do anything I want through a fictitious character. Tonight, it just seems to be a problem, because halfway through, Stone enters my thoughts.
A picture of him pinning my arms above my head against a wall with one hand, while the tips of his fingers glide up my thigh, dragging my skirt with. Our eyes connect while he gives me a warning smirk before crashing his lips onto mine.
I close my laptop in a flash, also with a little force.
Shit.
But wait...
A relieved smile begins to stretch on my lips as a sting forms in my throat from emotion when I realize that he’s invading my thoughts in a good kind of way. It’s been a long while since I’ve experienced that.
I search the room, and the dim lights constrict my chest for a short moment, and although I see a comfortable bed, I know that sleep won’t really happen, just as it never does.
I glance at the clock I see that it’s only eleven, which means the hotel bar must still be open.
Grabbing a sweater and my key, I head straight for some alcohol.
By the time I’m walking into the bar, with its chestnut interior and leather chairs, I’ve decided that a red wine is calling my name. Just as I sit on a stool at the bar, I notice the occupant next to me. Maybe it’s a coincidence or fate just leading us.
Stone looks far too sexy in jeans and a tight dark tee.
“Oh, look at that, Harlow is here. Probably hoping that I was enjoying a drink too.” Stone doesn’t look at me, but I can see his lips tighten around his beer bottle as he takes a sip, and it’s clear he’s grinning.
I indicate to the bartender for my order. “Clearly you read my mind,” I play along.
He turns to me, pleased with my arrival. “What brings you down here?”
I focus on Stone. “I’m not the greatest sleeper, so I’m hoping the wine helps,” I admit. “You?”
“Writing wasn’t really calling to me, and after my workout, I decided to enjoy an excellent IPA.”
“Nothing to do with checking out the staff of your hotel?”
He shakes his head. “I only have a tiny stake in this place. It’s my buddy Holden who runs the show.
There is Nash who owns 10%. His parents used to own the joint.
They insisted that they would only sell if 10% would stay in the family.
He’s gone rogue, though. For me, this is purely an investment that one day I can use to impress someone.
Otherwise, nobody knows about my role here. ”
My eyes scrunch. “You told me,” I point out.
His eyes brim. “Call it instinct, and I wanted to piss you off a little more when Stuart was arranging your squirrel-hut room.”
I now find that comical. “Well, your secret is safe with me. How did you get into writing? We kind of skipped the conversation that we probably should have had when we were debating the civilization of deer.” I don’t mind making fun at my moments of crazy. I own it.
“Believe it or not, I was valedictorian in high school. Mostly because creative writing managed to get me a few awards. Mix that with hockey and I was the dream kid for colleges to offer me a scholarship. Great at hockey, and they didn’t have to worry about me struggling with grades.
Even during my hockey career, I would write recollections of games I played, little things I noticed.
Then there was the occasional best-man speech where I had the guests laughing, then in tears. ”
My cheeks rise at his admission. “See, you might be more of a romantic than me.”
He shakes his head. “Anyhow, my hockey career ended a few years after going pro. Some asshole hit me behind the knee. Despite physical therapy, I didn’t have it in me to play anymore.”
I nod my head to thank the bartender for my wine but keep my focus on Stone. “I might have searched you on the internet to grab a few facts.”
Stone raises his brows. “Ooh, you know I’m going to bug you about that for a long time.” He turns to look behind the bar then nudges my shoulder with his. “But I kind of searched you too.”
I take a sip of my wine. “Find anything interesting?”
“Nah, just pictures of books with juices and enough olive green to blind me.”
“That is Harlow Olive’s life,” I agree.
He glances sidelong me. “Why do you write?”
My lips slide side to side, as the reason is one that I’ve rehearsed many times. “It’s an escape. Sometimes ideas enter our heads, and we have to get them out, otherwise we’ll get consumed. Plus, romance is fun and gives people a few hours of relaxation.”
“You must have had a great love life to lead you to romance, no?”
“The opposite. I had a few long-term boyfriends years ago but nothing serious in retrospect. Actually, they were kind of jerks, so maybe I’m writing my dream guys to compensate,” I joke.
“I really need to buy one of your books and then ask you to highlight the good parts for me.”
We’re back to flirting again. “You mean the dirty parts.”
“If you insist.”
I can’t help but smile. “You have a sense of humor, I’ll give you that. So why are you on this retreat?”
He rubs his stubbled jaw because it’s the end of the day, and it just makes the image of him more sweltering.
Made worse by the fact that he seems to have no clue of his appeal that makes many women melt, I’m sure.
But I do my best to sit here casually. “Simple. Our publisher says I need to change up my view on my plot. So far that plan has kind of gone to shit in terms of why I’m here. You?”
“Same, they think I need to clear my head and change direction.”
Stone’s face goes puzzled. “You mean write about hockey players?”
“I don’t know, but sports bore the hell out of me.” And writing about sports just kind of irritates me. I choose my own direction, not somebody else’s.
“You said writing is perhaps a distraction, so you don’t really believe in it all, do you?”
I huff out a sound and sigh. “Truthfully, I’m not sure, but some things, yes. Second chances, for example.”
His head bobs side to side. “Okay, maybe that makes sense. Not that relighting a flame with an ex would ever cross my mind.”
“You can be attracted to your opposite. Your enemy can seriously become your lover, that’s why people have hate sex all the time,” I list.
A cheeky look returns to his face. “Are you saying that I might become your lover, considering this morning you really wanted to throttle me?”
A blush hits me in full force, and my face instantly warms from his sentence. It’s an image flashing in my mind now, and I feel a wave of sensitivity between my legs. “No, uh… of course not.” I swallow his statement to shake it off.
“Keep going,” he encourages.
“Accidental pregnancy is another,” I add.
He laughs and seems ready to give me another shocker. “You’re going to love this. My brother Vaughn and Isla had an accidental pregnancy… but she didn’t tell him until she was about to deliver the baby.”
My jaw drops. “What? Like a secret pregnancy kind of thing?”
“Totally, but they’re together now and finding their way.”
This is like discovering gold. My hands splay out. “See, maybe it’s all realistic, and I have it all wrong.”
“Ah, you still seem kind of unconvinced.” He remains firm.
I’ve nearly finished my wine because time seems to be flying, but I don’t want this conversation to end. We could talk for hours.
“Did you get your goodnight cookie?” Stone asks to change the topic.
Twisting the stem of my wine glass, I focus on that to avoid the handsome man next to me. “I did. A warm chocolate chip cookie, nearly heaven, except sleep might be better.” If only I could.
“You should try sandalwood oil if you have trouble sleeping. They say it can send you into a deep sleep and chase away bad thoughts. My brother’s girlfriend stands by having a dreamcatcher above their daughter’s bed too. Won’t let her sleep without it.”
My brows lift softly. “I’ll try it. Thanks.” I’ve already attempted everything else.
He quickly brushes us past the topic on to new things. “Holden, the guy running the Dizzy Duck Inn, is also a retired athlete,” he notes.
I’m in awe. “What’s with this town? It’s like ‘Welcome to Lake Spark. We have crossing signs for deer, ducks, and hockey players.’”
A deep chuckle roars from the back of his throat. “Something like that. But ever since The Spinners decided to leave Chicago to train with more focus, they settled here in Lake Spark where the owner lives. Naturally, it draws retired players here, and they fall in love with the charm.”
My lips quirk out. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You’ll have to come back to examine all of us in our habitat. That should help with your writing.”
I laugh. “There is that hilarity again.”
“Trust me, when it comes to other things, I’m anything but.” He sips from his beer and realizes what he just said could be taken out of context, and I already did.
“Aw, so you’re serious and dominant when it requires a lack of clothing.” I have no problem saying that as a matter of fact.
He leans in closer to me, and the heat of his presence brings a wave of warmth that flames along my body. “Yes. But you don’t always need to take the clothing off to find satisfaction. I’m sure you write about that too.”
I want to move closer to him, as I have an unexplainable need to touch his cheek with my fingers. Alas, I refrain myself.
“This is probably my cue to escape,” I whisper with an edge in my voice. I’m uneasy, partly because he’s enticing.
“I’m a gentleman, believe it or not, and I respect that move.” He turns to the barman. “You can put her wine on my tab. Then again, this is my place, so no need to have a tab anyway.”
“That’s considerate of you,” I tell him.
“I guess for you, I can be. Other than for my family and you, it seems, I’m a grumpy-as-fuck guy. Stuart at reception normally takes my wrath.”
“Poor kid.” I stand and softly touch his shoulder. “Thanks for today. Even if you were an irritating jerk this morning. You didn’t stay my enemy for long.”
“But I’m not your lover.” He’s referencing our trope talk, except there is a hint underlying.
“Time will tell.” It barely escapes my lips, and again, I awkwardly pop my mouth, as it feels like the hundredth time today that innate honesty has escaped me.
He smirks and chooses not to tease me back. Inside he’s probably fulfilled by his effect on me. “Sweet dreams, Harlow.”
Our eyes hold for a second longer, a rope unwinding between us, with my body easing.
“You too, Stone.”
Walking away, I feel his eyes on me. It flickers an unfamiliar feeling inside of me. I’m not sure why this guy fell into my world.
But it’s hopeful.
Stopping to get one more glimpse of Stone, a twitch hits my lips.
Silly me for thinking I could ignore the facts during this week. They are still there.
I’ll never tell Stone my secret. I have to ignore this unrealistic optimism that maybe Stone Madden will be the one to unravel it.