Chapter 29
Harrison
The moon is full as thin clouds drift across it, dimming the light just enough to keep the yard wrapped in shadow.
Almost instantly, Pix trips into me.
“Sorry,” she says, pushing herself to standing.
“I’m used to it,” I tease.
Two steps later, she does it again.
This time, I catch her easily, my hands sliding around her waist. A move that’s instinctive and natural.
And dangerous.
Still, I don’t let go. Uneven ground. Poor lighting. Basic safety concerns.
Right. Keep telling yourself that.
“It smells wonderful out here,” she says.
It does. Pine and cold earth and something sweet that lingers so close to her that I have no choice but to breathe her in.
“Winter honeysuckle,” I say, clearing my throat. “It grows wild out here. The kids love it when we camp out.”
I guide her to the left, along a narrow path worn into the ground by the back-and-forth foot traffic of my munchkins. “It’s just over this hill.”
She squints at the slope. “What is? The sacrificial altar?”
“Har.”
The yard slopes up, and by the time we reach the top, I’m practically carrying her. Which is… alarmingly easy. Like my body volunteered and has no intention of backing out now.
When we clear the hill, it comes into view.
“Whoa,” she breathes. “What is this place?”
“It was a greenhouse,” I say. “Came with the property.”
The structure sits tucked into the clearing, glass panes catching the moonlight, vines crawling up the frame and softening the edges.
I reach past her and pull the door open. The hinges creak softly, and I flip the switch. Fairy lights blink overhead.
“It looks magical,” she says, awestruck.
Slow and curious, she steps to the center, taking in every corner.
Against one wall sits a large outdoor chaise layered with blankets and mismatched pillows. Pix immediately starts folding the blankets, neat and methodical.
I cross to the vintage potbelly stove in the corner and strike a match. The fire catches easily. I add two fresh logs, the flames licking higher as warmth begins to spread through the space.
A soft thump hits my back.
I turn to find a pillow on the floor and snatch it up.
Pix stands there, the very bastion of innocence. “Whoops,” she says.
I arch a brow. “You can’t throw a long pass and call it a whoops.”
I toss it back to her.
She giggles and sets it down. “If this is a greenhouse, why are there no plants?”
“That’s because it was a greenhouse,” I tell her. “Past tense. We can’t agree on what it is now. Snooki insists it’s a princess tower.” That earns a smile. “Connor wants a man cave,” I add. “I told him he barely qualifies.”
“And the Dread Pirate Oliver?” she asks, delivering a decisive karate chop to the pillow. “I know what he wants.”
“A pirate ship,” we say in unison.
I grin. “You know my kids so well already.”
A flicker of something crosses her face. Sadness. Gone almost as fast as it appears.
“They’re easy to know,” she says quietly. “They told me their whole life stories while you were gone.”
“All of it?”
“Just the important things,” she says thoughtfully. “That you were gone a lot before.”
“The life of a SEAL.”
“And that you’re back now. And…”
She trails off, and I let her. I’m pretty sure I know where she’s headed, and my heart flutters, bruised and unsteady.
How do you summarize loss? I lost my wife. They lost their mom. We’re still standing. And some days, that has to be enough.
“You’re amazing.” She catches herself, a soft shake of her head. “I mean, it’s amazing,” she murmurs. “All of it. So many possibilities.”
She settles onto the chaise, easing back, her gaze drifting up through the glass ceiling. The night sky stretches overhead, stars scattered like a field of glitter.
While she’s lost in the sky, I glance toward the house.
Movement.
Shadowy figures slip along the side of the property, quiet and precise.
My jaw tightens.
Her breath catches. “Oh.” She lifts a hand. “Look.”
“What?”
She points upward. “Up there.”
I sit beside her, following the line of her finger, just as a streak of light cuts clean across the sky.
She gasps. “A shooting star.”
“Or a death asteroid about to wipe us out like the dinosaurs,” I say.
She smacks my shoulder. “Make a wish.”
“No.”
“Do it, Lumberjack,” she orders. “And you have to close your eyes or it won’t come true.”
“Is that why it never works?”
“Shut up and close your eyes.”
I do.
Instantly, I’m hyperaware of her. The soft rush of her breath. The faint citrus scent that follows her everywhere. The heat of her body, suddenly way too close to mine.
And without permission, I do it. I make a wish.
I wish for this.
For her.
For now.
“It’s gone,” she says dreamily.
I open my eyes. “What did you wish for?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
She traces small circles on the pillow. “If I tell you, will you make it come true?”
Hell yes, I will. I school my expression. “We’ll see.”
She brightens, sitting up. “I wish I knew what I texted you.”
“Huh?”
“When we were partying our asses off,” she explains. “I texted you. I think to say I was going to be late or something. But considering I was with you the whole time, and a little tipsy—”
“By a little,” I say, “you mean totally shitfaced.”
She rolls right past it. “And I can’t remember a single word of it.”
“Why don’t you just look at your phone?”
“Because in my inebriated haze, at some point, I must have deleted it.” She wiggles her fingers at me. “Come on. Put me out of my misery. Let me see your phone.”
Not a fucking chance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the shadowy figures of my team working their way around Connor’s room. Which means any second now I’ll get a status update. Maybe photos. Of her personal things.
“Hard pass.”
She blinks. “Seriously? Even if I swear to bypass all the dick pics?”
“Especially then.”
She exhales sharply. “Come on. Tell me what I said. Was it embarrassing?”
I don’t hesitate, and make up something on the spot. “You said lumberjacks do it best. That’s not embarrassing at all.”
She stares at me.
I keep smiling.
“Tell me what I really said.”
“You said beards are my spirit animal,” I tell her. “Then you followed it with a peach emoji. I thought it was a little forward, but I admired the confidence.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what I said?”
“Not tonight.”
Something shifts in her expression. Concerned, she whips toward Connor’s room. “I think one of the kids is up.”
“What? No. They sleep like logs,” I say quickly, angling her so she’s no longer facing the house.
Especially not with my team lighting the place up like it’s a rave.
What the hell are they doing?
Pix wiggles in my arms, trying to turn back. “But I saw something—”
She pushes to her feet.
So do I. And my brain goes straight into emergency override.
I kiss her.
I kiss her with everything I’ve been holding back, because Jesus Christ, this woman can kiss.
She melts into me, arms sliding up, her body fitting against mine like a puzzle piece finding its match.
And for one reckless, stupid heartbeat, nothing else exists. Not the house. Not the shadows. Not the consequences waiting just beyond the moment.
It’s just her and me, and a kiss big enough to rewire my heart.
She pulls back, breathless. “We can’t—”
“I know—”
She licks the taste of me from her lips, steadying herself before she speaks.
“It’s called a one-night stand for a reason, Harrison.” Her voice is firm. Certain.
“Right,” I say, still keeping a careful eye on the house.
“I live in LA.”
“Uh. I live here.”
She exhales a small, satisfied breath. Closing the chapter for good. “Then it’s settled.”
“Definitely.” I glance past her shoulder.
Outside, my men slip away from the house, one by one.
“So we’re agreed?” Pix asks.
My full attention returns to Pix. Relieved, I smile. “Agreed.”
Her hands are already at my waist, fingers deft, as she undoes my pants. “Just one more night.”
“What?”
She doesn’t respond. She's too busy, dropping to her knees and taking me into her mouth.
I stagger forward. “Fuck…”
Can I stop this? In theory, sure.
In practice, my body tossed my brain in the trunk and called it a day.
She picks up the pace, relentless now, and is basically extracting my soul through my dick.
“Fuck yeah.”
She does this thing with her tongue, a swirl, and I slip into a different universe. My head tips back as heat floods every inch of me.
My fingers tangle in her hair, grounding myself as the sensation pulls me under.
Because if this is our last night, and I’m knowingly stepping into forbidden territory with my best friend’s baby sister, then it will count.
“I’m close, Pix. I can’t—”
I’m ready to pull out.
Two delicate hands grope my ass.
Oh. Now it’s on.
We fall into a rhythm, and I wrap her hair around one fist. “Are you going to take every last drop like a good girl?”
She hums yes around my dick.
I watch her slide her hands between her legs, rubbing and pleasuring herself and—
Holy fuck.
This woman is trying to kill me.
I slam into her mouth until I see stars.
And she drinks me down. Every drop.
When the earth returns to its axis, I look down and brush my thumb across her lips.
She smiles up at me and presses a tender kiss to the pad of my finger. “Goodbye, Lumberjack.”
“Goodbye?” I gather her into my arms. “We’re not saying goodbye yet.”
Her fingers stroke my beard. “We’re not?”
I lay her on the chaise and force her knees wide. “Before your sweet pussy has been taken care of? Not on your life.”
Because when you’re plummeting to hell, you make the most of the ride.