15. Harper
CHAPTER 15
Harper
My head rested against Garrett’s bare chest and my arm draped across his toned midsection. He traced idle circles on my shoulder as we laid in bed together. We originally had plans to go to dinner, but there was something about him I couldn’t resist. Apparently he felt the same way.
At least we’d made it to the bed that time.
I didn’t think either of us had meant to tear each other’s clothes off as soon as he’d arrived to pick me up, but you wouldn’t hear me complaining. I was relaxed and happy, my body content.
He kissed the top of my head, and the strangest thing happened. A lump formed in my throat and tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. I tried to swallow the rush of emotion. I didn’t want to freak him out. But the gesture was so gentle. So sweet. Intimate on a deep level.
It was overwhelming.
While a part of me wanted to sink into this newfound intimacy, bask in it until morning, another part of me wanted to untangle myself from him. Maybe even call it a night. It felt as if we were rushing headlong into a fog and we couldn’t see where the path led. Was there a cliff out there? Were we going to fall off and hit the bottom?
Because there was always a cliff. And I always fell.
His arm flexed, pressing me tighter against him. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, let the strength of his embrace surround me. Whatever was happening between us was so new. Couldn’t I just enjoy it for what it was, without worrying about whether it was doomed to crash and burn?
Probably not entirely, but for the moment, I’d at least try.
Garrett kissed my head again, then broke the comfortable silence. “I saw my family today.”
“Is that why Owen wanted the cookies?”
“Yeah, everybody loved them.”
I smiled. “I can’t take credit. He did all the work.”
He paused, as if considering what to say next. A flutter of nervousness swept through me.
“So, it kind of came up that we’re…”
My eyes widened and I lifted my head to look at him. “That we’re?”
“Dating.”
I let out a relieved breath. “I thought you were going to say something else. I know Owen is fourteen, not four, but I don’t think he needs to know about… you know,” I looked up and down at our bodies tangled in the sheets, “this.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Just that my family knows we’re seeing each other.”
The corner of my mouth lifted and I glanced pointedly down his body again. “Yeah, I’m seeing a lot of you lately.”
His subtle smile was so satisfying. I loved making him do that.
“Sorry, I’m teasing. I take it that was a big deal? To tell them?”
“I guess it was. I haven’t dated anyone since my divorce. In fact, I was pretty determined not to.”
“Is it okay if I ask about that? ”
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“Owen said he doesn’t see her anymore. Did she just… leave?”
“It was more gradual than that. When we first split up, she made an effort to see him. Not as often as I would have if our roles had been reversed, but some. It didn’t take long for those visits to become fewer and farther between until eventually they stopped.”
“I just don’t understand that.”
“I don’t either.” He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against me. “That was why I stayed married to her as long as I did. I thought I could hold our family together for Owen’s sake. Because deep down, I knew if we split up, she’d drift away. He’d lose his mom, just like I did.”
My chest tightened with sympathy. “Your mom left you too?”
“Yeah. I don’t remember it, really. I was very young; a lot younger than Owen when his mom left. And I was lucky. My dad married Marlene, and she’s my mom. Doesn’t matter if we’re related by blood or not. She’s my mother.”
“Sounds like she’s pretty great.”
“She is. Having my own son, especially with what we’ve been through, really made me see her through new eyes. Even though she already had three boys, she loved us like we were hers. There was never any difference.”
“Do you ever hear from your biological mother?”
“No.”
The hurt in his voice was clear. And I understood it. My family situation was different, but I knew what it was like to feel abandoned by a parent. My father knew I existed, but my mom had planned it so he wouldn’t be a part of my life. For all I knew, he didn’t want to anyway.
When I buried my face in his chest and held him, he wrapped his arms around me and leaned his cheek against the top of my head. A rush of emotion poured through me. I wanted to soothe all his hurts. Hold him and kiss him and lo—
I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t even think it.
The intense intimacy of the moment finally got to me. I needed to get up. Put some space between us and maybe bake something. Escape into my go-to form of stress relief.
Turning to baking when things got heavy was probably why I thrived as a professional baker, even though it was fast paced and demanding. And things were definitely getting heavy.
I pulled away but smoothed my expression. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”
His mouth lifted in a grin. “I could eat.”
“How about we stay in? I’ll cook.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’m in the mood for it.”
His smile grew. “Great.”
I was about to get up when he reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, gently pulling me in for a kiss. His mouth felt so good against mine—soft, warm, delicious.
And more than a little bit dangerous.
I needed to clear my head. He was getting under my skin, and as much as I loved it—craved his closeness—it was starting to freak me out.
Kitchen. That was what I needed.
I got up and, since we were staying in, put on a tank top and a pair of jeans instead of the dressier date attire he’d taken off me. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and left him to get dressed while I headed for the kitchen.
Just standing in the space soothed my too-fast heartbeat. I looked through the fridge, mentally assessing what I could whip up on the fly. I wasn’t going to feed him cookies for dinner, but my kitchen talents didn’t stop at baked goods. And I enjoyed a challenge. Throw me in a kitchen with five ingredients and an oven, and I’d make your taste buds sing.
Fortunately, I had more than five ingredients.
I’d been experimenting with a recipe for cherry hand pies on my last day off and had made extra pie dough. A baker never knew when she’d need to whip up a flaky crust. And since I already had the dough in the refrigerator, I decided on a quiche.
Garrett came out, dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, while I was rolling out the dough for the crust on the island.
“You know Owen’s come to the bakery after school a few times, right?” I asked.
“Yeah. He told me.”
“He’s such a great kid. It’s hard to believe the first time I met him, he’d shoplifted from me. I guess even good kids make mistakes.”
“I sure did.”
I smiled. “It’s hard to imagine you doing something like shoplifting, though. Weren’t you always the cop chasing the bad guys?”
He glanced away. “Usually. Although, when we pulled pranks on the Baileys, we pushed the boundaries of the law a lot. And then there was this one time…”
I waited a moment for him to continue, but he didn’t. I gave him a quizzical look. “You can’t leave me hanging like that. I really need to hear this story.”
“We all knew how to pick locks. Us, the Baileys, it was just part of the feud. But one summer, Reese and I were being particularly idiotic and decided to see if we could break into the Sugar Shack.”
“The candy store?”
“That’s the one. We did it a few times. Took just enough stuff so if we got caught it would look legit, like we could have bought it. I felt so guilty, I broke in again and left some cash on the counter by the till.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s too adorable. What about Reese? He didn’t feel guilty?”
“Not that I know of. He kept trying to goad me into going back, but I wouldn’t do it.”
“I take it Owen doesn’t know that story?”
“No. He can hear about it when he’s older. I want him to keep thinking his dad is above suspicion for a while longer.”
“That’s fair. Did he ever tell you why he did it? Whether he maybe did it for attention? I’m not implying you don’t give him enough of it. I think you’re a great dad. I really mean that.” I paused. “But I think we both know what it’s like to be a kid with some big hurts.”
He nodded slowly. “Maybe I’ve been assuming he’s fine when he isn’t. It’s tough because he’s a Haven. We’re good at holding things in. He’s seemed a little different lately, though. Happier.”
That made me smile. “Yeah? That’s good to hear.”
“I think you might have something to do with that.”
I kept my eyes on the dough, but my heart soared. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been making him work.”
“Apparently he doesn’t mind, if he keeps coming back.”
“He called me bruh.” I lifted my gaze to meet his.
“Wow.”
“I know! That means he likes me, right? I’m cool?”
“Definitely means you’re cool.”
I smiled. “I texted him a picture of the creepy bear. He said it was sus.”
“He’s not wrong. That reminds me, can I see it?”
“It’s in the garage.” I nodded toward it. “I put an empty moving box over it.”
His brow furrowed.
“Don’t judge. Your son put the idea in my head that it might come to life at night and go on a murderous rampage. ”
“Sounds like Owen.”
I finished the quiche filling while Garrett went out to the garage to inspect the bear. He came back in a moment later, carrying the gift bag with one finger, as if he didn’t want to touch it.
“Worried about getting your fingerprints on it?” I was half-joking, but maybe that was a concern.
“Sort of. Also, habit.” He set it down on the counter. “Do you have gloves?”
“I do, actually. There’s a box of disposable ones in that cupboard.” I pointed to where he could find them.
“Thanks.”
“So what are you going to do? Dust it for prints or something?”
He pulled a pair of gloves out of the box. “Probably not, although I’m tempted. But there’s no crime involved and our forensics lab is already overworked.”
“That’s fair.”
His brow furrowed as he lifted the bear out of the bag. I watched while he thoroughly inspected it. He went over the seams and pressed every bit of it, looking for evidence of something hidden inside.
“I think it’s just a bear.” He brought it closer to his nose and sniffed. “An old bear.”
“That’s why it’s so creepy. It’s weird enough that someone left it without a note. But who digs an old stuffed animal out of their basement or whatever, puts it in a gift bag, and leaves it on someone’s car?”
“That’s a great question.”
“I keep hoping it was a mistake and meant for someone else. Although I feel bad for thinking that. Then someone else was supposed to get the creepy bear.”
He tilted his head. “Maybe it was meant for someone else but there’s a reason that someone would want an old bear. Some nostalgia behind it. ”
“Oh, good point.” My voice brightened. “Maybe it’s a cherished childhood memento. I wonder how I could figure out who it was meant for. I’ll ask Aunt Doris. She might have some ideas. Oh! Or maybe someone will report it missing.”
“A missing stuffed animal?”
“I mean, they might think it was stolen or something. Who knows, you might hear about it.”
“It wouldn’t be the weirdest call we’ve ever had.”
I put the quiche in the oven and set the first timer. “What is the weirdest call you’ve ever had?”
He paused for a moment. “We get squirrel calls a lot. When Sheriff Cordero was new, we got a call about a squirrel stealing someone’s wallet. He got on the radio to chew out the deputy for responding to an obviously bogus call. We had to explain to him that the squirrels around here actually do steal things. The wallet was recovered.”
I laughed. “A wallet?”
“Wallet, keys, picnic lunches. Once I responded to a call at this older gentleman’s home. He had a garden in his backyard and he swore up and down that his neighbor was stealing his peppers. Turned out it was a squirrel.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“Set up surveillance.”
“You set up surveillance to catch a squirrel stealing garden peppers?”
“It was just one of those doorbell cameras. Right after dawn, a little squirrel sat there, helping himself to the guy’s peppers.”
“Were they spicy?”
“That was why the guy was so convinced it had to be his neighbor. Squirrels don’t usually eat anything spicy. Apparently that one was the exception.”
“Hopefully he made up with his neighbor.”
“I think he did.”
“Keeping Tilikum safe, even from the squirrels. ”
“Just doing my job.”
Fortunately, bad luck didn’t strike. The quiche came out perfectly, I didn’t drop anything, and my mom didn’t call unexpectedly in the middle of dinner—all things my bad luck could have done to mar our evening.
The surprising thing was, it was all so easy. The conversation, the connection. Garrett loved my cooking, and we ate and talked until I was having a hard time staying awake. I apologized but he didn’t mind.
I found myself wishing he didn’t have to leave. That, instead of a long goodnight with tempting kisses, we were heading to the bedroom together.
Too soon, right? Way too soon to be thinking like that.
But sugar cookies, he was everything. And my heart wanted more.