12. Rachel
12
RACHEL
I hummed along with the song blaring in my earbuds. I had gotten so much accomplished this morning, I felt on top of the world. Harris, too, seemed to be bursting with energy. He’d worked out so long and hard last night, I’d fallen asleep before he climbed into bed, and he was already doing pushups on the beach when I woke up.
Folding the last of the freshly laundered sheets from the weekend, I stuffed them in the linen closet and slid the door shut. The bedrooms reserved for tomorrow’s guests were ready to go. The grandmother and granddaughter would each have a room facing the ocean. They’d be staying two nights, which was a nice chunk of change—ding-ding for the baby fund. I grinned wide, then I winced as my nausea kicked in.
Eating protein and staying active had helped a lot, as had Harris’s basket of treats, but I still had my moments. If this gurgling continued, it would soon sour my morning.
I found a chair and sat down, taking a few deep breaths. The nausea passed, which was a relief, because I had big plans for today. I’d signed up on the waiting lists for a few local daycares, ordered new hair dye from my favorite website, changed the socket plates in the kitchen, and caulked the guest showers. My massive to-do list had shrunk to a stub, which left my day free and clear for the treasure hunt I’d promised Harris. Something to take his mind off the specter of Darryl.
Heavy clomping caught my attention—Harris on the stairs. Something thudded on the wall, then the footsteps continued to the apartment. Harris must be hauling up the furniture we’d picked out for the nursery. Normally, new parents waited until the baby shower before buying furniture and stuff for the baby, but I had no illusions. No one in this town would be throwing me a party. So, we’d decided to shop together online. Some of the furniture was a no-brainer, but how we wanted the room to look was harder. We had no clue if we were having a boy or a girl, and that made it tough to compromise on the theme.
“Cowboys are gender neutral,” Harris had said.
“Then why are they cow boys , not cowboys and girls?”
“We could get cowgirls. Or, how about just cows? A barnyard theme, with a pile of stuffed animals.”
I chuckled at the memory, and my stomach sort of…tickled. Was the baby reacting to my laughter?
Calm down. It’s only the size of a peanut. It’s not doing backflips . But it sure felt like it was. Smiling, I got up and went looking for Harris.
“Wow,” I exclaimed, drifting into the bedroom that would soon be a nursery. The whole space was empty, apart from the boxes of furniture. “You cleared everything into the carriage house by yourself? I’d have helped if you had asked.”
Harris straightened from plugging in the vacuum. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and his hair was still damp. He obviously hadn’t showered yet after his workout.
“Take a picture,” he said, catching me staring. “It’ll last longer.”
I smirked. “But the live show’s so…shiny.”
“You want a live show? I’ll give you a show.” Winking, he flexed for me and did a slow turn. My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips. His body was sculpted, bronzed from the sun. Taut muscles gleamed, hard and defined. A dusting of red hair sprawled across his chest. I wanted to touch it. Wanted to?—
“Keep looking at me like that and you’ll find your back against the wall.”
I slid closer. “How about the shower wall?” I bit my lip, my whole body thrumming with anticipation. “Wanna get wet with me? All soapy and— eek !” I squealed as he scooped me up into his arms, giggled as he marched me through to the bathroom. Within moments, we’d discarded our clothes, and my back hit the shower’s tiled wall just like he’d promised. Then I dropped to my knees and swallowed him whole.
“Rachel! Oh God…”
I reached up behind him and turned on the water. It came on cool and refreshing, and I felt Harris shiver. Sliding back up his length, I teased the slit with the tip of my tongue. His fingers burrowed into my hair, and he gripped my head hard. I flattened my tongue to taste his salty precum, then wrapped my lips around him, teasing with my teeth as I swallowed him deeper. I could feel his hips twitching as he tried to hold back. Then his control broke, and he let out a growl.
“Ah, fuck.” He thrust his hips forward and tightened his grip on my hair. I tilted my head back and let him fuck my throat. His cock throbbed and jumped, and I knew he wouldn’t last long.
“Rachel!”
I sucked him down harder and felt his hips stutter. Cupping his balls, I rolled them in my palm, tickling with my fingertips, thumbing his taint.
“Shit, Rachel,” he groaned, his grip on my hair tightening nearly to the point of pain. His other hand slapped against the tile. “I’m about to come.”
I fluttered my tongue, then took his cock deep.
Jets of his orgasm hit the back of my throat. He shouted and shuddered, thrusting himself through it.
I licked him through the aftershocks, then rocked back on my heels, peering up at him with a huge grin on my face. His eyes, dark with barely sated lust, glittered under heavy lids.
“Your turn,” he said, when he’d gotten his breath back. Hauling me up, he made good on his promise. We kept at it until the water ran cold.
I meandered along beside Harris, my body so loose and satisfied I wished I’d asked him to take a nap with me instead of dig for treasure. My large-brimmed straw hat helped block out the sun, and the ocean breeze kept me from melting in the heat.
Harris was carrying our shovels, and he jabbed them into the ground with each step like a cross-country skier without the skis…or the snow. We’d come close to bickering over whether I was allowed to dig, but I’d been in too good a mood to let Harris ruin it. I’d simply grabbed the shovel off the wall and walked out of the carriage house. Harris had caught up to me and offered to carry it. That seemed a fair compromise—I got to do some light manual labor; Harris got to be chivalrous on the walk.
Heading down the beach toward the spot where the tree had been, I was surprised to find myself enjoying Harris taking the lead. It was nice to let go and let someone guide me for a minute.
“This is it.” Harris stopped, his gaze darting between the ocean, the house, and the green divot where the tree had once stood. “Those maps were all terrible, but they made reference to the treasure being around a tree. Assuming this was it, we should dig around here.”
Excitement sparked in my belly, and I couldn’t stop beaming. “This is so cool. I can’t believe we might actually find something.” My voice shot up at the end, and Harris chuckled.
“I mean, we might not, but it’s worth a shot.” He grinned, and warmth flooded my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that wide, easy smile. It’d been days since I’d seen it break through the clouds.
“Keep doing that,” I said.
He frowned. “Doing what?”
“Smiling and laughing. Makes me want to smile with you…and maybe undress you.”
Harris’s eyebrows shot up, but his grin came back with a vengeance. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He passed me a shovel and gripped his own with both hands. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
My whole body tingled as he started to dig. I’d meant to pitch in with him, but I couldn’t stop staring at the way his muscles rippled with the stretch of his back. Cords stood out on his forearms, and his calves bunched up taut. I’d just gotten through slaking my lust in the shower, but his ass in those shorts had me craving him again.
A seagull cried overhead, rousing me from the fantasy ramping up in my mind. I shook my head to clear it and pushed my own shovel into the soil.
Harris glowered at me. “Stop that.”
I ignored him and kept going. The physical work felt good, though I didn’t have the strength to slam the shovel in very far. It didn’t take long to find a peaceful rhythm. My arms burned with the repetitive motion, but I refused to make Harris do all the work. The joy was in hunting for treasure with Harris, not acting like he was my minion.
The sun rose in the sky and the morning got hotter, but soon we’d cleared a hole about three feet long, going about two feet deep. Harris drove his shovel in again, and?—
Thunk .
Harris froze. I dropped my shovel, then scurried to his side. “We found it!” I hovered, eager, as he dug in again, carefully this time, scraping away dirt. His shovel made a hollow sound on something underneath.
“I can’t believe it,” he murmured.
I trilled and clapped.
Harris kept digging, excavating more dirt. He’d discarded his T-shirt, and sweat poured down his back. I retrieved his shirt and swiped his forehead, wanting to do something to help.
“Find the edges,” I said, and grabbed my shovel to help. I probed around cautiously. The buried wood felt spongy.
“It could just be the tree trunk,” Harris said. “Or part of its roots.”
I didn’t think so. I redoubled my efforts. Harris did too, and fifteen minutes later, we’d uncovered a small chest. An actual pirate chest! I dropped my shovel.
“I can’t believe it,” I said.
Harris slid an arm around me and together we stared at the dirt-encrusted wooden box. Nothing about it seemed special or fancy. In fact, it looked flimsy, cheap, and decayed. If a strong breeze hit it, it’d probably fall apart.
Harris let out a snort. “Not quite your Hollywood pirate chest, is it?”
“I know, right? No padlocks. No chains. Not even a curse?”
Harris nudged me. “There could be a curse.”
“You open it, then. I don’t need?—”
A loud crack rang out, like a branch breaking. I half-turned, and the sound came again. I clutched my heart.
“What—”
The air rushed from my lungs in a hard, painful whoosh . I blinked up at the sky from flat on my back. For a moment, I lay there, uncomprehending, then loose dirt rained down on me and I understood. Harris had thrown me into the hole. My back hurt, my head hurt, and I groaned at the bruise that was sure to be forming on my shin. I’d hit it on something on my way down.
“What the hell?” I muttered. I raised myself on one elbow and let out a groan. The chest had tipped over when I’d crashed down beside it, and it was digging into my leg. I pushed it off and peeked out of the hole. Harris was darting between the trees like a ninja…or, I supposed, a highly trained Marine.
Sunlight glinted off his handgun, and my skin prickled with terrified goose bumps. Adrenaline coursed through me. What the hell happened? Had those sounds been gunshots? Mom wouldn’t do that…but clearly someone would.
Harris vanished from sight, and I felt my heart plummet. I desperately wanted to call him back. Grabbing my discarded shovel, I dragged it into the hole, and I clutched its handle till my fingers went numb. No way would it protect me against a bullet, but I couldn’t just lie there without some kind of weapon.
“Rachel.” Vibrations thundered against the ground, running footsteps. I poked my head up at Harris’s voice.
“Harris! Are you hurt?”
“I’m good. You?”
I flew out of the hole and into his arms. “You’re safe. I thought…”
Harris swooped me up and cradled me tight. “You sure you’re not hurt? I didn’t mean to toss you, but I needed to get you out of the shooter’s sights.”
“I’m okay. Just bumps and bruises.” I hugged him as tightly as he held me. “I kept thinking you were hurt. I couldn’t see where you went, didn’t know what you were running into.”
“I’m fine,” he rumbled, raining kisses on my head. “I found this over there.” He pointed toward the house, then he opened his hand.
Dizziness made me drop my head on his shoulder. On his palm was a spent bullet casing.
“The shooter was gone by the time I figured out the trajectory.”
“It wasn’t my mother,” I wheezed. “She can’t stand guns.”
Harris didn’t react. I peered up at him and found his attention riveted on something on the ground.
Oh God. What now? I lowered my gaze.
In my bid to get to Harris, I’d kicked the chest open. It was empty—or nearly empty. An old, ratty scrap of fabric lay inside. Looking closer, I saw that it was leather, studded with brass. I pulled it out carefully, between thumb and forefinger, and a round metal tag dropped between my feet. Harris picked it up and rubbed it clean with his thumb.
“Bonesy,” he read.
“Seriously?” I snapped, fear and adrenaline spiking in my veins. “We were shot at for this?”
“Let’s go,” Harris said, and began marching toward the house.
“Wait. Shouldn’t we grab the shovels? Refill the hole?”
“Please,” he said, and the word came out shaky. I saw he was trembling, now that the crisis had passed. “I just need to hold you. I could have lost you. I need to feel you safe and close.”
I swayed, feeling dizzy, and reached for his hand. “Okay. You’re right. I need to feel you safe and close too.”
Harris got his arm around me and steadied me on my feet. We hurried inside, and he helped me sit down, cuddled into the blankets on the entertainment room’s sofa. He dialed 911 with one hand and pulled me to him with the other.
While he spoke with the emergency dispatch, my terror ran rampant. I could have died—but what really scared me was that I could have lost him . A new crystal clarity stripped me of the blinders I’d been wearing, leaving one truth behind. One stunning revelation.
I was falling in love with Harris McCallister.