10. Jefferson
CHAPTER 10
JEFFERSON
I’m relieved when I show up at Harlow’s door at six-thirty to find that not only does she open it for me, but she is ready to go to dinner.
After that morning in my living room, I wasn’t so sure she’d still go with me tonight.
I’m glad we cleared the air. She is under some very specific misunderstandings about my goals and motivations, but at least we’ve started the conversation. And it’s not over.
But we’re going out tonight and she’s not just ready to go, she looks absolutely fucking amazing.
She clearly got my text that the Spencers and my parents decided to move the dinner to the Blue Stone Grill, the steakhouse out on the highway.
The Blue Stone has only been open for about five years but gives us a little bit more upscale dining experience than Dottie’s.
Dottie was thrilled with the idea of a place more geared toward a dinner crowd. She pulled back to offering breakfast and lunch only, opening at six a.m. and closing at four p.m. every day. The Blue Stone opens at four-thirty six days a week and offers a fantastic prime rib and salad bar. It’s the perfect location for dates and fancier family dinners celebrating things like upcoming weddings.
“Wow, you look beautiful,” I say. I’m not buttering her up, it’s true.
Her dark hair is curled and falling loosely past her shoulder blades. She’s wearing a silky blue sundress that brings out the color of her eyes. It’s a sheath that fits against her petite frame and curves perfectly. She’s wearing heels that lift her about two inches off the ground, still putting her well below my chin, but making her legs look amazing.
“Do you like the dress?” She steps back and spreads her arms, then does a little twirl.
Well, if she wants me to look, I’m gonna look. I sweep my eyes over her from head to toe.
“I like it very much.”
She turns and props a hand on her hip, looking at me over her shoulder. “It makes my ass look great, don’t you think?”
I am not sure what she’s doing, but I let my gaze drop to her ass. And I say honestly, “It really does.”
Harlow has a great ass, and this dress clinging to it the way it does—if I was her boyfriend, of course—would make it very hard for me to keep my hands to myself tonight.
“I wore this just for you,” she says turning to face me again.
And now I’m suspicious. “Really? And why is that?”
“Because if I was your girlfriend, this would probably be your favorite dress. I know blue is your favorite color. And I know you’re an ass guy.”
Blue is my favorite color. I especially like this specific color of sapphire blue. Call me sappy, but I spent years wearing this color from Little League, through high school football. “I’m an ass guy?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I am. It’s not the only female body part I like, of course, but it is one of my favorites. But how do you know that?”
Her hand is still on her hip, and she’s watching me with a combination of amusement and exasperation. “The first summer you were home from college, you had been out drinking with your buddies, and you all came home and crashed in the basement where Graham and I were watching movies. You were talking about how great Whitney Bennett looked since she had started doing kickboxing. You were all being super gross. But someone commented that he’d always thought Whitney had a great body and you agreed that she had one of the best asses in town.” Harlow shakes her head. “You were all such pigs.”
I do not remember this conversation, but it absolutely sounds like something I said when I was young, immature, and a little tipsy. And yes, Whitney Bennett is a gorgeous woman and always has been.
“Whitney’s beautiful,” I say with a shrug. “You can’t really blame us for thinking that.”
“I will admit that at least you and your friends have gotten a lot better about not saying your stupid thoughts out loud.”
“So you don’t want me to say out loud that you look hot as hell and that your ass is amazing?”
She looks up at me. “If I was really your girlfriend, would you tell me that?”
“No. I think I would show you that,” I tell her.
Her cheeks get a little pink, but she gives me a smile. “Good answer.”
“Yeah? You would want me to express my feelings that way? If I was really your boyfriend?”
She runs a hand down the front of the dress. “What woman doesn’t want her man to like how she looks?”
“Noted.”
She steps forward and I turn to let her pass in front of me. As she steps out onto the porch, and I move to pull the door shut behind us, I smack her on the ass. She looks up at me. “Really?”
“You’re my girlfriend this week.”
“Fake girlfriend.”
“I can’t fake-slap you on the ass.”
“There’s no one around to see you do that, so you can keep your hands to yourself, Coach.”
I laugh. “You don’t think we should practice? Make sure we’re both in the right mindset before we’re in public?”
She gives me a wide-eyed look. “I do not.”
“Okay. But you’re giving me permission to do whatever I want in public ? Is that right?” I ask with a smirk as we start down the porch steps.
“I really hesitate to give you wide-open permission for anything.”
Smart girl. “But I need to act like you are my girlfriend. People have seen me with women before.”
“Treat me like you would a real girlfriend in public. When people are watching who we are not related to or close friends with. But when it’s just our inner circle, you can back off.”
“I’m just a little worried.” I stop beside my truck and open the door, giving her a hand up since her skirt is fitted and she’s wearing heels.
She rolls her eyes and climbs up by herself.
I almost laugh. If she was my girlfriend, or we were in public, I would’ve grabbed her waist and helped her up anyway. And maybe slapped her sassy ass again.
“What are you worried about?” she asked.
“Just that there’s a risk you’re gonna get addicted and you might be asking me to do some things in private even when no one else is around.”
She snorts and reaches over for the door. “Please, hold your breath for that.” Then she slams the door.
I laugh as I round the front of the truck. I know she doesn’t like me and that irritates me. No, that’s not true, I correct mentally. I think she likes me. But she doesn’t get me. So this week, I’m going to work on that too. But I do love sparring with her. I love poking her. I love the way her eyes flash and her cheeks flush when I piss her off. I love that I can piss her off more than anyone else can. I really think this is going to be a very fun week.
As we drive toward the Blue Stone, I’m relieved that things seem okay between us. As okay as they ever are. At least she’s not freezing me out or yelling at me.
I wonder if I’m supposed to apologize for anything that I said earlier, but I’ve been over and over our conversation and I’m not sorry. Everything I said was the truth and everything I’ve done, from talking Graham into going to college in Colorado to mentioning the kid who might need someone like Mia to talk to, was something I stand by.
I don’t like hurting Harlow though. And it’s weird that it’s been bugging me. I mean hell, I told her she’s a loving, supportive person. Though almost to a fault. Still, in the past, it hasn’t bothered me that she knows that I’m a critic. Possibly her only one.
Now suddenly it does bother me. A lot.
I look over at her as we drive to the restaurant. “Are we okay?”
She shrugs. “We’re…the same.”
I think about that.
I don’t want us to be the same.
It’s a strange thought and it seems to hit out of the blue, but I want us to be better than the same. Maybe this is hitting me because of everything I finally said out loud. I’ve never done that before. We’ve just bickered and been sarcastic with one another. She’s tossed out things like you made Graham leave and I say things like you coddle him.
Today I let her know that I’m aware of the reason that she’s so intent on helping people find homes and families. Which means I’ve given it some thought. I also admitted that I’ve paid attention to how protective she is of the people that she loves, especially the vulnerable ones. I told her that I see the way that she puts herself in front of people she feels need to be protected. But then she wants to shelter them from every tiny possible thing.
Our disagreement felt deeper today. More meaningful. It wasn’t just us fighting over Graham’s attention. This had real thought and understanding behind it. It’s one thing to want to keep the people you love from the major storms. I do the same. I would throw myself in front of anyone I love if life tried to rip through and turn things upside down. But she wants to be the umbrella even for the lightest sprinkles. Sometimes people need to get wet. People need to learn how to dry themselves off.
I hurt her today more than usual because I showed that I understand her. And I still disagree with her. But I want that to bring us closer. I want her to see that I can disagree with her but still like her, respect her, and want her.
That hits me and I squeeze the steering wheel tighter.
I can still want her even while I disagree with her.
Because I do want her.
Well… dammit.
I clear my throat. “We’re gonna have to act like we’re a little better than usual,” I remind her after a moment.
“I’ve got this,” she tells me. “I understand the assignment.”
But does she? Because suddenly this assignment feels a little different to me.
I think I need to help Harlow understand a few things before I worry about what everyone else believes.
We pull up the restaurant five minutes later.
Harlow, of course, lets herself out of the truck without waiting for me, but I take her hand as we walk toward the front of the restaurant.
For a split second she starts to pull away, then sighs. “You’re a hand holder, huh?”
I’m actually not. To me holding hands is something couples do when they’ve been together for a long time. My mom and dad do it. Phoebe and Joe Spencer do it. Kaelyn and Carver do it. But I don’t know any of my friends in newer relationships who do.
It indicates a long-time connection and comfort to me for some reason.
But holding Harlow’s hand feels natural. So I intertwine our fingers and say, “Yup.”
I think I do it to annoy her. But when she curls her fingers against my hand, I realize the truth—I like touching her and this is one of the only ways I get to. And I’ve got a limited time to do it.
I hold the door, letting her step in before me—resisting the urge to tap, or squeeze, her ass as she does—and simply give Cindy, the hostess a smile as we walk past. Our family table will be easy to find. It will be one of the biggest in here tonight, and probably the loudest. It will also be in the best location. We’re sitting with one of the owners after all.
Levi and Joe Spencer own the place. Neither of them is a chef or even really a foodie. We’ve converted them both to fried chicken, chili, great steaks, and other classic Nebraska food. They both love runzas. But they grew up in the hospitality business in Las Vegas and when they were discussing business endeavors that would help the town, a restaurant seemed like an obvious choice.
The Blue Stone is much less glitzy than anything the Spencer family owns in Vegas. It is a small-town steak house and event space, providing a place for big parties, anniversary celebrations, even wedding receptions, and the annual prom dinner for Sapphire Falls High School. But it is as warm and friendly a gathering place as Dottie’s is. The Blue Stone serves everything from steaks and seafood to gourmet burgers and a fancy grilled cheese.
My whole family is already here as is Kaelyn’s. They occupy a long table near the windows that overlook the rolling hills to the west where the sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon making the summer sky a pretty pinkish orange.
Phoebe and Joe and my parents have been friends for years. My dad and Phoebe went to high school together. My mom and Phoebe became friends almost as soon as my mother moved to Sapphire Falls. Phoebe Spencer is a bright, friendly, funny woman who everyone loves.
Joe first showed up in Sapphire Falls actually pursuing another woman. Nadia is one of the lead scientists for my father’s company. She and Matt Phillips have been married as long as all of our parents. I don’t know all of the details, but Phoebe was supposed to help Joe get Nadia back. Instead, Phoebe and Joe fell in love.
My mom and Phoebe are sitting at one end of the table with Joe and my dad. My mom and Phoebe are acting as if they haven’t seen each other in years, heads huddled close together, laughing and talking. The truth is, they’ve probably already talked three times today.
They are thrilled that they are soon to have their children as in-laws.
Graham, Ginny, and Kaelyn’s two brothers, Elliot and Noah, are also already here. Her sister Gillian won’t be home for a couple more days.
Everyone is talking and laughing. Our families have always been close. Which is what makes it interesting that as soon as Harlow and I arrive at the table, everyone stops talking and turns to face us.
I don’t think I have ever made an entrance like this with these families.
I give them all a look. “Hey, everyone.”
Phoebe gives us a sparkling smile. “Hi, Jefferson. Harlow.”
Okay, so my mom has filled everyone in on the situation I take it.
I pull the chair out next to Ginny and nudge Harlow into it. I sit next to her. “Are we late?”
Of course we’re not, they just showed up early, so everyone would be here when we walked in.
“You look gorgeous,” Ginny tells Harlow.
“Thanks. This is the first time I’ve worn this dress,” Harlow shoots me a little grin. “Thanks for letting me come,” she says to Kaelyn.
“Of course,” Kaelyn laughs. “This—” She waggles a finger between me and Harlow. “—is way more interesting than us getting married.”
Harlow shakes her head. “We’re not trying to upstage you. But thanks for going along with it.”
“Trust me, we’re enjoying it,” Carver says, giving me a grin.
I sit back in my chair, resting my arm behind Harlow. With my index finger, I trace a wiggling line over her upper back. Goosebumps erupt over her skin, and she turns to look at me quickly.
I just lift a brow. Everyone at this table might know this is fake, but the rest of the restaurant has to buy it. And if she were my girlfriend, I would definitely be touching her every chance I got. All this bare skin in this dress? I would absolutely be running my finger back and forth along her smooth, creamy skin, reminding her I’m right here, that she is leaving with me later, and that there will be a lot more touching to come.
At that thought, I have to shift in my chair.
It’s going to be very important that I remember this is all fake too.
That won’t be hard. No one knows better than I do that Harlow Hansen is not generally my type.
I tend to like women who like me.
As Harlow settles into an easy conversation with my sister and Kaelyn about wedding plans, I look around the restaurant. It's busy tonight, but I know everybody in the room, including the group that pulls my attention with raucous laughter. They’re at a table near the bar, and the loudest one is none other than Zach Nelson.
I look at my brother. “Coincidence?”
Carver lifts a shoulder. “Joe and Phoebe decided we should come down here for dinner instead of their house,” he says. “That’s all I know.”
Kaelyn overheard me though, and she shakes her head. “Of course it’s not a coincidence. Adrianne told my mom about your situation, and they decided this needed to be public right away.”
“And she knew Nelson had a reservation tonight?” I guess.
Kaelyn just grins.
That is absolutely something Phoebe would do.
“Well,” I say. “I’d rather have your mom on my side than the other.”
Kaelyn laughs. “You know my mom loves some good, fun drama,” she says. “Especially fun drama she can be a part of.”
“Especially fun drama she can help stir up,” Carver says.
I move my hand up Harlow’s back, dragging the pads of all four fingers up her spine. I love the little shiver I feel go through her. I rest my hand on the back of her neck, stroking my thumb up and down the side of her throat. “Well, we’ll take all the allies we can get. The fun of torturing Zach isn’t something we would selfishly keep to ourselves.”
From here, Zach can clearly see our table. Harlow’s and my backs are to him on this side but that gives him an even better view of how we sit and touch each other. And it doesn’t take a genius to realize that these chairs were left open by our friends and family on purpose.
I grin. Having a team is going to be fun.
I’m surprised a moment later, when Harlow’s hand lands on my thigh. She runs her palm up and down, then squeezes.
I give her a little side eye, but she continues to talk with Graham.
Anyone looking on would see two people dating, casually but lovingly touching one another.
I give her neck a little squeeze, and she runs her hand up a little higher.
I am struck by how much I like her touch.
That could be problematic.
For one, there’s no sense getting used to it.
For another, letting Harlow too close to the family jewels could end up being a mistake. This is an act after all—she’s not actually fond of me and that’s a particularly vulnerable body part to be letting a wild card like my pretend girlfriend get too friendly with.
“You should come over after this,” I hear Harlow say to Ginny and Graham. “We can watch it and make popcorn.”
“Do you mean spicy popcorn, or chocolate marshmallow popcorn?” Ginny asks.
I already know the answer.
Harlow rolls her eyes. “We could compromise with just regular popcorn I guess,” she says, her tone indicating that is the most boring thing she’s ever heard.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Ginny says, laughing.
This all catches Phoebe’s attention.
“You’re not going back to your place, are you?” she asks Harlow.
Harlow leans forward slightly to look down the table. “Well, yeah. I didn’t think we were partying here until the wee hours.”
Phoebe shakes her head. “You have to stay at Jefferson’s this week.”
I feel Harlow tense under my hand. “What? No way.”
Phoebe drops her voice, making it softer. “You’re supposed to be dating,”
“I don’t have to be at his place every night.” Harlow glances at me.
“Of course you do,” Phoebe insists.
“Why?” Harlow asks.
I snort.
Harlow looks at me, eyebrows arched.
“Well, you wouldn’t be just having quickies in the truck or even at his house and then leaving,” Phoebe says.
Harlow chokes. I grin.
“Serious girlfriends stay all night,” Joe agrees.
“Maybe we’re not that serious,” Harlow insists.
“You would be,” my mom says. “We talked about this. It wouldn’t take long.”
“So everyone is just assuming we’d already be sleeping together?” Harlow asks, keeping her voice down but clearly a little outraged.
That’s hilarious.
“Obviously,” I say.
She swings to look at me again. “What?”
I shrug. “If we were dating, we would definitely be sleeping together. Sooner versus later.”
She narrows her eyes. “Not necessarily. I might not want to.”
I squeeze her neck. “You would want to.”
I’m gratified when her gaze drops to my lips before bouncing back to meet my eyes.
I just grin.
“Some people—” Phoebe tips her head in Zach’s direction. “—need to think you are.”
Harlow lets out a breath. “ Every night?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say as Phoebe answers, “Definitely. The two of you would be together constantly.”
I feel the tension leave Harlow’s body, but it feels less like relaxation or relief and more like defeated resignation.
She looks at me. “You agree?”
“That you would be unable to leave me alone?” I grin and nod. “Absolutely.”
“This week is going to be such a pain in the ass,” she mutters.
I just chuckle.
“I don’t know why you’re all making this so complicated,” my dad says.
Everyone turns to look at him. My father is quiet, almost always preferring to let my mother do the talking. And when he does talk, he’s often blunt. Okay, he’s always blunt. You never have to wonder what he’s thinking.
“We’re making it complicated?” Adrianne asks. “You don’t think Harlow should stay at Jefferson’s?”
“I’m talking about the entire premise,” Dad says. He looks at Harlow and me. “You’re trying to convince everyone that you’re dating. Instead of worrying about getting the details right and everyone being on the same page, why don’t you just actually date?”
I watch him. But he doesn’t go on. He lifts his drink to his lips and sips.
“But…” Harlow starts. But then she stops and frowns.
My mom starts nodding. “That makes sense.” She turns to look at us. “Don’t you think?”
“It does,” Joe agrees. “You’ve known each other a long time. You’ve been friends?—”
Harlow snorts. I squeeze her neck again. More to let her know I heard that.
“When it turned into more doesn’t matter,” Joe continues. “Only that it’s more now. Just date for this week. Don’t pretend. That would be simpler.”
“It would seem too new,” Harlow insists.
“I don’t know,” Joe says. “Is there a magic specific moment when a friendship goes from that to more?” He looks at Phoebe and it’s clear something passes between them. “Or does it happen all along until you just finally admit it?”
I’m fascinated.
“When did it happen for you?” Ginny asks him, smiling at him and Phoebe. “You were both intending to date other people. When did you decide you were in a relationship with one another?”
Joe grins down at Phoebe. “The first time she kissed me. I was done for. I fought it. We fought it. We tried to lie to ourselves. But yeah…kissing changes things.”
Phoebe giggles. “We were so dumb.”
“ So dumb,” Joe agrees, watching her with so much adoration it actually makes my chest squeeze.
“Well, if kissing is the catalyst, I started dating your mom the first night I met her,” my dad says, grinning at my mom.
It always jabs me in the gut when my dad smiles at my mom like that. He doesn’t grin with pure joy and unrestricted emotion very often. He’s pretty serious. And even grumpy at times. But with her…he’s different. Every time.
“You kissed the first night you met?” Harlow asks.
I look at my siblings and we all smile. We know this story. We’ve heard my mom and dad’s love story dozens of times.
“I did. Couldn’t help it,” he says.
“You don’t…” Harlow trails off, pressing her lips together.
I chuckle. “Go ahead and say it. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to lose control like that, right?”
“You really don’t,” she tells him.
“Things got a little out of hand,” my dad admits. With a big grin.
My mom is blushing. “Yeah, we were pretty…involved from the very start.”
Phoebe laughs. “God, that was fun.”
Phoebe was very involved in concocting the plan to keep my dad away from Hailey Conner, the then-mayor and my dad’s sort-of ex. My mom was Hailey’s assistant back then and Mom was the decoy, tasked with distracting my dad for the weekend of the summer festival. And it definitely worked.
Hailey is now married to Ty Bennett and they are close friends with my parents, and hearing them all tell the story, years later, with laughter and embellishments, is very fun.
“So, honestly, it’s an easy sell to tell people that you two started dating,” my mom says. “Just…try it out for a week. What would really be the difference between what you’ve always been and dating?”
“We’d like each other,” Harlow says.
“Kissing,” I say at the same time.
She looks up at me. “You don’t think we need to like each other?”
“I think we like each other just fine,” I say, meaning it. “And I think if we spend more time together, we’ll like each other more.”
I’ve been thinking about this a lot today. I think I’m someone in Harlow’s life unlike any other. I’m someone she can be angry and loud and rude and messy with. And I do think she likes that. Or she will once she really realizes it.
But I decide to give her an out here. I lean in. “And I promise if I kiss you, you’ll like that too.”
She growls. “I need a drink.” Harlow shoves her chair back, causing my hand to drop away from her neck. “Anyone else?”
Ginny and Kaelyn give her orders.
Harlow looks at me. “Order me…some chicken thing.”
“You got it, babe,” I tell her.
As she stands, I put my hand on her hip and pull her in close. “Harlow,” I say.
She leans over. “Yes, dear?”
“You need to dial back the eye rolling and sarcasm.”
Again, her eyes drop to my mouth, then she nods. “Fine.”
I pinch her ass and let her go.
She swallows and I know she is fighting the urge to glare at me or slap me.
I thought this week might be fun before. Now I know it’s going to be.
“Shouldn’t you go with her?” Graham asks. “Zach has already noticed her, and that she’s alone.”
I nod. I’ve been keeping my eye on Nelson. “Part of the plan. I want him to dare to talk to my girlfriend when I’m not around.”
Graham shakes his head. “For the record, I’m not as convinced you can pull this off.”
I focus on my brother. “Why is that? You don’t think we have chemistry?”
They have both assured me several times over the years, as have our friends, that there are no feelings—at least romantic ones—between Graham and Harlow. But old habits die hard, and I feel a twinge of…something at my brother’s words.
If I didn’t know better, I’d call it jealousy. If it was anyone else that’s also what I would call it.
“Oh, there’s chemistry,” Graham says with a chuckle. “It’s more the constant, will they-won’t they.”
“Will they or won’t they fall into bed with each other?” Kaelyn asks.
“Will they or won’t they claw each other’s eyes out,” Graham corrects.
“Nah, it’s more will they or won’t they tear each other’s clothes off,” Ginny says.
“Shouldn’t that be a little disturbing to you?” Elliot, one of Kaelyn’s brothers, asks.
Ginny hums thoughtfully. “You’d think so. But I’m used to it. This is how they’ve always acted.”
I look at her with surprise. “You’ve always thought that Harlow and I have chemistry?”
She shrugs. “I don’t think I would have labeled it that, but now that I think about it, yes. I mean, you’ve always been the same. And now that people have pointed it out, that does seem to be what it is. I wonder if some of the irritation she feels about you is irritation that she can’t act on the chemistry because she doesn’t like you.”
I frown. “You do think she dislikes me? For real?”
“I think you can have chemistry with someone who you dislike because of their actions. I mean it’s not like you kill puppies or steal from children’s cancer charities or something. You just see the world a little differently. You have a lot of people in common, and what you think is best for them is different.”
“And you don’t think we can get past that.”
Ginny laughs. “Of course you can.”
“Yeah?” I note the way that makes my heart rate speed up. But I shouldn’t.
“Yeah. You both need to mind your own business. Our lives—” She motions between her and Graham. “Aren’t really either of your concern.”
I prop my forearm on the table and lean in to pin my sister with a look. “You are our concern. We both love you. We want you to be happy. Safe. Loved. Just because she does that differently than I do doesn’t mean I disagree with her doing it at all.”
Ginny shakes her head. “Yes. And that’s all lovely. It’s a fantastic thing for the two of you to have in common. But the fact that you’re both constantly trying to tell us how to make those things happen, is the problem. You don’t see eye to eye on that. So what? Neither of you should be so concerned with our lives anyway. You both need to work on your own.”
I frown. “Harlow and I have great lives. We’re both very well adjusted and happy.”
“Then why do you both fight with such an awesome person who could be a really good friend? And maybe even more?”
I look around the table for some support. Turns out everyone has been listening. And no one is jumping to my defense.
I glance over in the direction where my girlfriend—fake girlfriend, dammit—is waiting for her drink to be mixed. I know she didn’t get a simple beer or glass of wine. It’s not something fruity and blended. It’s probably a Jack and Coke, light on the Coke.
Dammit. I even know how to mix the perfect cocktail for her.
And, sure enough, Zach Nelson is right next to her.
“Excuse me. I’m needed at the bar.”
Everyone at the table smirks.
Hey, Harlow and I might not see eye to eye on everything, but being mean to Zach Nelson is something we do agree on.
As I’m standing, our waitress arrives with four platters of appetizers. One in particular catches my attention. Grinning, I load a little plate with bacon and brie brussels sprouts.
A chance to wound Zach and ruffle Harlow at the same time? How can I pass up that temptation?