Chapter 9
STONE
Igive a sharp glare at Stuart behind the front desk of the Dizzy Duck Inn.
“Are you sure these cookies will be okay tonight?” I ask for the second time.
He gives me an odd look. “The kitchen said yes. As mentioned, they were baked this morning, and you can always warm them in the oven.”
I glance down at the box tied with a ribbon then slide my eyes back up. After thinking it over, I decide it’s time to give up. “Fine.”
“Leave the guy alone. You’re such an ass sometimes.
” I hear a deep voice from behind me, and I know when I turn that I will be greeted by Holden.
He played sports during my own years as a professional athlete.
But our paths always crossed, and I consider him a friend, which is why I wasn't hesitant to invest in this place.
Pivoting, I throw on a grin to match his. The guy never wears a suit, only dark jeans and button-downs. “I’m only a jackass when it’s important.”
Holden indicates with his head to join him in the lounge on a low couch. My eyes squint, as they do every single time, at the moose head over the fireplace. “For the love of God, get rid of that thing,” I plead. “This isn’t a hunting lodge.”
He chuckles. “I know. Next summer, I’m getting an interior designer in.
” Holden leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me something exciting. I’m tired of listening to my pre-teen and ten-year-old argue and complain.
” He has two kids with no wife or mother for his kids in the picture, only a constant flow of nannies.
“Yikes.” I reach over to pat his shoulder. “No envy there.”
“Really? You had a one-night stand with my ex-nanny way back,” he deadpans.
I wince, as that wasn’t my proudest moment, nor are my womanizing ways of the past.
“Anyway, what’s with the cookie demands?” he quickly changes topics.
I roll my shoulders back. “It’s a nice Dizzy Duck touch. Everyone raves about them.” Holden doesn’t believe a word; his face informs as much. I give in. “I have someone visiting and thought it would be a nice surprise.”
His brows raise. “A woman?”
I nod. “Met her here at the writers’ retreat we had a while back.”
“Ah, so you have a new girlfriend.”
I chuckle. “Not exactly.”
“Seeing where things go?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. Harlow is right, there is no definition for us. Other than that, I want to make every second with her count and surprise her in ways that are creative, even for me. I don’t feel I need to impress her, our ease with one another doesn’t call for that.
Holden seems fascinated. “I’ll be damned. Someone is under the influence of feelings.”
“Funny.”
“Who is it? Does she live nearby?”
I shake my head. “Harlow doesn’t live here. She’s flying in this afternoon, and I’ll pick her up.”
“Harlow… a cute name.”
“She’s beautiful and… knocked the wind out of me.”
Holden grins at me. “Sounds promising.”
My lips quirk side to side. “It’s a little complicated, and now I’m in a totally new realm. A new side of me has opened up, and quite frankly, my patience is confusing me. Never in my life have I had that. Normally, I demand, and I get. But here I am.”
He crosses his arms. “That’s a sign. Will I get to meet her?”
I snicker. “Hell no. I’m not bringing her to lunch with you. Last time I tried to enjoy a meal with you, your nanny number six called to say she quit because your kids are little devils. We can’t even sit through a normal meal.”
Holden gives me an awkward look. “True. Hopefully, they will calm down as they get older.”
“Yeah… good luck with that.”
I glance at my watch and know I need to head out. I want to clean my house a little and pick up a few flowers from The Flower Jar on Main Street. It’s cheesy as hell, but I know it will make Harlow laugh until her stomach hurts.
“Gotta head out.” Holding up the box of cookies, I tell him, “If these don’t hold up to my standards then you best believe we’re having a corporate meeting,” I joke.
“Do that and I’ll play hardball. Say goodbye to your access to the gym and pool, buddy.”
I ruefully drop my head. “See ya, Holden.” I get up and begin to walk away.
“Hey, Stone.” I glance over my shoulder. “Nothing is ever as it seems. Tread carefully,” he warns.
I ignore everything he says, except there is a small pit somewhere in my stomach that tightens slightly.
Waiting outside on the tarmac of the small regional airport, I’m confident with how this is going to go. It just doesn’t mean the nerves I feel are any less.
The moment Harlow steps off the plane, she stills, our eyes lock, and a gentle smile appears on her lips. She has a beret on, and her scarf matches, with complete Paris vibes. But it doesn’t matter, it’s our frozen moment that is the starting line for the next few days that has us entranced.
That is until the passenger behind her must grumble to speed up, so Harlow walks down the steps.
Her slow walk toward me causes a pounding in my chest.
What the hell are we doing?
What abyss are we heading down together?
And why is neither one of us running?
It’s when she is within touching distance that all thoughts leave my head, and I reach my fingers out to skim along her arm as she surveys the small bouquet of red carnations, because roses seemed too romantic, wilting in the cold. As expected, she bursts out laughing.
“What a welcome,” she says as she reaches to take them from my hands. “You clearly read one of my books that you called garbage when we first met.”
“Ha-ha.”
Her laugh fades away, as does the hesitation for us. We step into a deep hug where I rub her back and she squeezes me tightly. I wish I could inhale the smell of her coconut-scented hair, but the cold air won’t allow it.
Neither of us let go and our heads angle slightly.
It feels natural to kiss, which is why we do it.
A soft gentle kiss, near a peck, until we meld into a stronger sealing of our mouths.
It’s a welcome and nothing crazy. It just leaves us with droll smiles, and we break our embrace to keep our day moving.
Reaching down, I swing her bag over my shoulder.
“What service,” she teases.
“You have no idea,” I nearly mumble, and admittedly, I have thoughts in my head that have been on a constant rotation. I want to do a lot of things to her if she’ll let me.
We head to my car, and on the fifteen-minute drive back to my house, we keep conversation simple about her flight, weather, and the latest in Lake Spark. Thanksgiving passed, and Harlow spent it with friends, while I spent time with my niece, as my brother had an away game the day after.
When we get to my house, that heightened feeling from earlier returns.
We head in, and she surveys my house. It’s a condo that is by no means modest. Everything is new, and the three bedrooms and four baths are something I probably don’t need.
There are a few cactuses to contrast my mostly light gray interior.
“Bachelor pad,” she states. Harlow saunters to the room off the living room with opened French doors, and she realizes it’s my office.
I lean against the doorframe to observe her.
She circles the desk, with her fingertips brushing along the books and paper, then stops at my closed laptop to tap twice.
“So, this is where you write your emails to me? Or is it upstairs in your bed?” Her voice is floaty, sultry, and our eyes catch.
Now I’m curious what’s going on in her head.
I rub my thumb across my jaw. “I’ll let your mind run wild there.”
She swallows. “Uhm, speaking of upstairs. Can you show me? We should probably … put my suitcase there.” Now she’s just toying with me.
I have to roll my eyes. “Good idea.”
Every step up the stairs strengthens that thumping in my chest. I watch her sway as she moves, as if she’s always belonged here. It’s a challenge because I know I need to be patient, but that tether that she’s had me on is getting too short.
She figures out which room is mine right away, as if it was a magnetic pull that led her that direction. We enter my room, and we both stall.
Harlow breaks the tension yet again with the laugh that fills the room as she marches forward.
“Wow. A good start to earn your five stars.” She heads straight to the edge of the bed where a folded towel rests with the box of cookies with the Dizzy Duck Inn logo.
She pauses, and her fingers trace the outline of my folded shirt on top of the towel.
She glances up at me. "You left me a shirt to sleep in.
" Her voice is delicate, and the gesture causes her lips to press while she smiles gently.
“I have high standards of what a hotel should offer.”
She turns to me then throws her arms around me. “Thank you.”
Fuck, that need to not let her go and rip her clothes off returns.
The thought is intercepted when I hear her mumble something against my chest, and as she backs up, it’s now clear as day.
“Stone, I don’t know what it is, but the flight over opened a gate that I’ve tried to keep closed since I met you.
I’m incredibly weak for you, and the thoughts just become… no words to describe it.”
“What are you saying?” I caress her cheek.
Her eyes sideline toward my bedroom window. “How about I freshen up and we can grab something to eat before I burst out with words that would’ve been far easier to write… I wish I thought of that.”
Now I have to clunk my tongue. “Alright, Harlow. I’ll follow your lead.”
“You do that a lot.”
I tip my nose up in agreement. “I’ll give you some space. The bathroom is over there. My top drawer is fair game for your curiosity,” I say to brighten her beaming smile even more.
She chuckles and swats me away. “I’m not that nosy… today.”
Our banter apparently continues even outside of our emails.
That’s a relief.
Which is why I head downstairs, content and positive that today is different to others.
Harlow sets her wine glass on the counter, causing a satisfying clink noise.