Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
HARRIET
SEVENTEEN WEEKS PREGNANT
The air in Warren’s truck is thick with something unidentifiable.
He’s been oddly silent since I finished my set. Not letting my mind run away from itself is proving impossible with every stop sign and awkward glance across the console.
Maybe country isn’t his thing.
Perhaps he doesn’t like the way I play the guitar.
Or my style.
As a musician, you must accept art is subjective. Only with Warren, I’m thirsty for his feedback and praise, an unfamiliar feeling. His continued silence leaves me parched and dry. I knew he wasn’t hot on socializing, and I put his mood down to being all peopled-out.
The only positive about this evening were the girls’ reactions. Warren accepted his mistakes, apologized, and left us all speechless. He spoke each word with conviction and candor, and in my eyes, he won them over.
The sidewalk sparkles under the flickering streetlamp outside my apartment, a light drizzle of rain dancing from the dark skies. It’s cold, and all I want is to turn on my electric blanket and watch something corny until I fall asleep.
Warren expertly maneuvers into an open spot outside my building and turns off the engine. More silence. Yippee. I study his side profile, enjoying the view of his well-defined bone structure before ending on his bearded jaw.
“Can I ask a random question?” My mouth works before my brain.
He eyes me warily. “Sure.”
“How come you have a beard? Aren’t firefighters supposed to be clean shaven?”
His jaw works tightly before responding. “Some stations allow mustaches.”
“Not beards?”
It’s a surprise the windshield doesn’t shatter under his hardened stare. “Not if you’re on active duty.”
It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines. “And you’re not on active duty?”
“No. I’m not.” Steel would be softer than his tone.
I wait for him to fill in the blanks, which, in classic Warren fashion, he doesn’t. I could push and pry, but I don’t. Not after Ben’s advice. We’ve only been at this friendship thing for a couple of months, and I should trust that, eventually, he’ll come around and open up to me.
I purposefully left out the fact I was singing tonight, wanting to surprise Warren. My intentions have the opposite effect. It’s foolish to think a silly song would crack through his armor.
I wait, and when nothing gives, I call it quits.
“Well, hopefully tonight wasn’t too much for you.” I keep my voice casual. “Thanks for making the effort, and sorry for dropping my impromptu performance on you. Baby brain had me double booking this evening with my midweek shift.”
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, gaze half on me and half through the passenger window.
“Okay, well, bye. Get home safe.” I’m unbuckled and out the door in a flash. My guitar is at the distillery for my shift tomorrow, allowing me a swift escape. I don’t dare look back to see if he’s watching. I already know he is, can feel it burning through my clothes.
Once inside my apartment and free of the stifling tension, I finally breathe. I’d suspected something was amiss, considering how flexible his schedule is. It would also explain his reluctance to discuss his job.
I’m toeing off my shoes when there’s a knock on the door. There’s no need to look through the peephole to know who it is, and Warren’s big body fills the entire doorway when I open it.
Taking a leaf out of his book, I stay silent. It’s him who speaks first for once.
“The first song you performed. I’ve never heard it before.” He frowns at his boots.
“Oh,” I squeak, cheeks heating. Why, oh why, did I play that song? “It was one of mine.”
His cryptic gaze meets mine. “You wrote that?”
Ugh, he hated it. Let me shrivel up and die.
“Yep.” My response lacks all confidence.
His expression softens—perhaps readying me for his criticism. He nods slowly and, to my surprise, reaches over and links our fingers. It’s nice he’s going to hold my hand while critiquing my songs.
“Seeing you perform…” His words fade. “Harriet, you’re incredible. I’ve never—” He clears his throat, fighting with himself not to break our stare. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in my life.”
My heart hammers in my chest.
Heedless of my apparent bout of voice paralysis, Warren continues. “Would it be okay if I came to the distillery again? To watch you?”
Good. Fucking. God. Stop.
Am I supposed to be irritated or swooning at his feet? Pick a lane, heart.
“That’d be okay with me.”
He nods and inhales slowly. “I also owe you an explanation.”
“Okay…”
“I’m suspended. Have been since we first met.
I’m not proud of it or for keeping it a secret.
Seems like I’m constantly apologizing to you, but that’s the truth.
” His face scrunches in discomfort. This feels like a trade, and I don’t dare open my mouth in fear of him stopping.
“I fucked up, didn’t follow orders, and, rightfully so, am suffering the consequences.
I’m working on returning to field duties, so you don’t have to worry about me not being able to provide financially. ”
I baulk at him. “Are you kidding?”
“No.” His discomfort grows.
I flap my hands. “Not about the suspension. The providing for us part. You already are. The important question is, are you okay?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. That has to be tough.” The cold from outside blasts up the stairs, yet neither of us moves from the doorway. “Is that why you hate talking about your job?”
“I prefer not to. There’s a difference. I like to keep my personal and work life separate.”
“Okay, I can respect that.” This is the most I’ve ever got out of the man, so I’m counting it as a small victory. “I’m not prying for the sake of it. In some way, we’re still strangers.”
His frown is instantaneous, and I’m not sure which part pissed him off.
“Why don’t you come in?” I shimmy out of my coat, shivering from the cold air. The stairwell is always cold, but the Arctic chill blowing through the apartment isn’t normal.
“Holy shit, it’s freezing in here.” I flip the light switch. Nothing.
On, off. On, off. On, off.
“What the heck?” My breath billows in front of me.
Turning, I find Warren bent with his head in my fuse box, a look of annoyance on his face. “This isn’t up to code. It’s ancient.”
“Has a fuse gone out?” I peek around his broad shoulder.
“They’re all out, and I don’t want to risk turning them all on until I find the issue.
” Straightening to his full height, he whips off his coat and drapes it over my shoulders, enveloping me in his smoky aroma.
The sleeves swallow my arms, leaving only the tips of my fingers visible. “Where’s your furnace?”
“In the utility closet.” I grimace when he moves farther into the apartment. “Don’t judge the mess.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Lead the way,” he calmly commands.
I open the door to the utility closet and stand back. Hands on his hips, he inspects the furnace. With each minute that passes, his sour mood increases. “Did you get this serviced?”
“Umm…”
“I said I wouldn’t judge, and I’m not. If anything, I want to drive over to your landlord’s house and give him a fucking earful. You can’t stay here.”
My shoulders drop. “Is it broken?”
“It’s a health hazard. There shouldn’t be water in here, and it’s fucked up the electrics. Plus, I can smell the damp on the walls. I’m nervous to see what’s behind the wallpaper, but if I had to bet, I’d say black mold.”
My bottom lip wobbles, and his grim expression cracks.
“Ah, shit. Harriet, this isn’t your fault. How were you to know?” I’m dragged into his embrace, his big arms wrapping around me like a weighted blanket. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. I knew it wasn’t Buckingham Palace, but black mold?” I peer up at him, failing to hold off the tears. “That could be dangerous for the baby.”
“You’re not experiencing any respiratory issues or reactions, right?”
I shake my head, sniffling.
“What matters is finding you somewhere else to stay until we get this sorted.” He strokes my messy waves. “Do any of the girls have room?”
The drop of disappointment in my stomach from him not offering up his place is ridiculous. For one, he lives in a suburb of Nashville, so it would make sense for me to stay with my friends. It’s a silly thought I promptly brush aside.
Parker lives with her dad in a small house barely big enough for the two of them, and Margot has Willow to worry about, not her homeless friend. “Talia. She lives in a big house and won’t mind me staying for a few nights.”
“Okay. Do you want me to call her while you pack a bag?”
“That would be great. Let me grab my phone and I’ll get you her number.”
An awkward smile pulls at his lips.
“What?” I ask.
“I already have her number.” He looks off to the side. “We all exchanged numbers when you were finishing your set. I wanted to have them in case there was ever an emergency.”
“It’s pretty inappropriate to chat up other women when the mother of your child is present,” I joke.
The stern look he fixes me with sends heat swirling to my core and when he steps closer, all I can do is gulp. “Sweetheart, let’s get one thing straight: I only had eyes for you tonight.”
Welp.
“Grab your things.” My body screams when he makes space between us, gently nudging me toward my bedroom. “I’ve got you.”
Talia blows out a long breath. “Listen, I’m ready to throw over the patriarchy tomorrow, but why does a man saying ‘I’ve got you’ do things to my insides?”
I fling my arms up. “Thank you! It’s sorcery.”
“Warren has that whole stern daddy thing going for him.” She tongues her cheek. “I can’t believe he wants to come watch you perform again. Do you think he means a date?”
My mouth drops open. “No, of course not. We’ve been over this; we’re friends.”
“But you like him?” She pokes me in the thigh with her toe, our limbs hidden underneath the thick wool blanket as we lounge on her sofa.
“Liking him is a key detail to this co-parenting agreement working.” I nudge her back.
She rolls her eyes dismissively. “Don’t act coy, Harry. Your horniness is stamped across your forehead. Needs a good railing.”
“It is not.” I smack my hands to my cheeks, the heat from them warming my palms. “Can’t a woman get a little lightheaded when a man does something genuinely nice for her? Where is the crime?”
She surrenders. “Hey, you can do whatever you want. My cousin said she wanted to mount her husband like a prize-winning stallion during the second trimester. Maybe that’s what you need?”
“You’re not serious.”
“Deadly.” There’s an evil glint in her eyes. Her being Team Warren now is giving me whiplash.
“I’m more than capable of seeing to myself, thank you.” What I don’t share is whenever I have been in the mood, replays of our night together are in my head.
Admitting defeat, my friend rises from the sofa. “If you plan on seeing to yourself tonight, please keep the noise to a minimum. Your room is across from mine.”
I throw a cushion at her head.
She cackles. “C’mon, Goldilocks. Let’s get you to bed.”
My joints crack as I stretch out my legs before standing. “I’ll only be here a short while. Five days max.”
She dismisses me and drags me down the corridor to one of the guest rooms. “Shut up. You’re always welcome here, and it’s nice having company. Warren is right—you shouldn’t be staying there, but what are you going to do when the baby arrives?”
She echoes the question that’s been playing in my mind since Warren dropped me off a few hours ago. “I guess I better look for somewhere new to live.”
“And in the meantime…” Talia throws an arm over my shoulder, tugging me close. “You will stay here for however long you need. I have two more bedrooms we can make into a nursery. My only request is if it’s a girl, you name her after me.”
I squeeze my best friend in return. Talia knows the real estate market in Iris Meadows is lacking, and the last thing I want to do is move out of town. I don’t fight her on her generous offer and instead count my lucky stars for the small army looking out for me.