Chapter 6
Chapter Six
HARPER
A fter spending time with Sandon today and him mapping out the plan for my security detail with me, I must admit, I feel a little safer moving around on my own.
We have always had security, but they were in the background and not so noticeable, but whenever I leave the office now, I will have a guard walking just behind me.
I can still hear Sandon’s voice in my head, saying, “Just pretend they’re not even there,” which is a bit hard to do when there is a guy dressed in a black suit not more than ten steps behind me. If I stop, he stops, if I go left, he goes left, so in a weird way, I guess this is what it would feel like being stalked, when I am in fact just being protected from a stalker. What a juxtaposition my life is right now.
Once I get into my car, I try to forget about the day and prepare for dinner tonight with Forrest.
What are we going to talk about? I wonder what he will cook for me, and is he an expert like his brother? Will it be all formal where we sit at the dining room table, cutlery set out for the different courses and the correct glassware? Oh, drinking, what will he serve with the meal? Can I get changed into more comfortable clothes where I have elastic-waist pants, so I can eat as much as I like and my skirt won’t cut into my stomach?
Seriously, Harper, why are overthinking this? It’s not like it’s a date or anything. It’s just a dinner with a roommate. Sort of, kind of, well, in some way… okay, not at all.
It’s dinner with Forrest, and that explains what it is. A business-meeting style where we lay out our conditions and then get on with cohabitating in an apartment but not really spending any time together.
Yep, got it. I can deal with that. My mind starts putting together points I need to discuss.
Pulling into my parking spot, I see the car behind me park to the side in the visitor spot and wait for me to enter the lift. It’s one of our security guys, and I know the license plates off by heart, so that doesn’t alarm me at all.
Sandon told me that he and Forrest will be in contact each day about Forrest’s movements and the times when he can’t be home with me due to his work commitments or things like, I don’t know, having his own life, I expect. Then they will work out someone else to cover me.
I hate every single part of this, but when he left my office after we chatted, it did give me a different perspective of how much I am imposing on Forrest. I didn’t think about it at first because I was too busy worrying about how pissed off I was that my life was being invaded. I really need to try to be nicer to him, even when he annoys the hell out of me, because I doubt that will change no matter how patient I try to be.
Opening the door with the key that Sandon gave me today feels weird.
Apparently, Forrest arranged for Remington to hand over a set for me and one for the Kentwall security team, just in case. It made me feel a bit apprehensive that it needed to happen, but also, I appreciate how much he is investing in this. It’s his home and sanctuary, and yet he is prepared to let people have keys to that. Not sure I’d be comfortable doing that with strangers.
But the moment the door opens and the smell of food hits me, my stomach is growling, and I forget about the dramas that exist outside this apartment.
“Hello,” I call out, but no reply comes. Assuming he is in his office, I tentatively walk that way, knowing that’s one of the things I need to talk to him about. I never want to encroach on his privacy.
His office is empty, so I continue down the hall. The door to his gym is open, and I can hear the sound of water running in what must be a shower in the attached bathroom. The gym smells of man sweat, and my mind starts running on overload at the visions of him working out in here, and then of him standing naked behind that door with water running down his body.
Spinning on my heel. I’m almost running to my bedroom to calm my lady bits down while I think of anything else other than those mental images that are heating me up.
I message his phone to let him know I’m home and then get into the shower myself, because to be honest, I just need a minute to wash away the day I’ve had.
Getting dressed in some semi-casual pants and a shirt, I check my phone, and there is a message from Forrest.
Forrest: Sorry, I was hoping I would have been out of the shower before you got here. Thanks for letting me know. Dinner is ready whenever you are, but don’t rush. Take your time, and I have a glass of red waiting for you.
“Who the fuck is this man?” I mutter, looking down at the sweet message. Oh, this guy is going to do my head in, I can just tell.
Checking myself in the mirror for probably the twentieth time, I think to hell with it. If I’m going to be living here, he is going to see me just as I am. Opening the door, I pad down the hallway on the soft gray carpet in my bare feet. One toe is a little purple from this morning’s chopping board incident, but at least the pain settled as the day went on.
Getting to the end of the hall, I feel nervous, but instead of walking out unsure, I do what I always do and take a deep breath, pull the shoulders back, and go out swinging.
“Hey, smells great in here. Did you get Flynn to cook us some dinner?” I ask, which has him looking up, a little offended.
“I can cook, you already know this.” Forrest’s comment reminds me about the meal he handed me when he turned up on my doorstop, which I never really acknowledged, so now is probably a good time to fix that.
“Oh yeah, thank you for that. It was great.” Pulling out the stool at the kitchen counter, I watch him move around the kitchen. “So, what have you cooked us, oh great chef Forrest?” Why am I being so patronizing to him? It’s the opposite of what I wanted to try to do tonight, but my nerves are bringing my default personality out, and it’s not the best.
“I made lasagna with a garden salad and homemade garlic bread. Then if you are still hungry, I have a cheesecake I picked up on the way home, if that is something you like.”
“Wow, you can cook better than I can. I have the basic dishes but usually grab takeaway or just have a shake for dinner if I have eaten out during the day.” Saying it out loud has me thinking how bad that probably is for me, but when you live on your own, it’s easy to get lazy and is such an effort to cook for one.
“Well, that stops now. Protein shakes are for before or after a workout, not a fucking meal. I will feed you.” There is no anger in his voice but just determination for me to understand that his job is to take care of me.
“If it smells like this and tastes as good as I think this will, then you have yourself a deal,” I answer, trying to keep up my positive remarks.
It brings the first true smile I have seen on Forrest since I arrived in his home last night.
Just nodding at me, he picks up both the plates and, looking to me, asks, “Where do you want to sit, here or at the table? I’m easy either way.”
I’m so thankful that this is going to be a relaxed dinner that I almost sigh in relief. “Whatever is easiest for you.” Looking over my shoulder, I notice the table set. “You have already set the table, so let’s move there.” Both of us move, and before I get to the table, he pulls a chair out for me to sit.
“Thanks.” Sitting down, my stomach rumbles again, to which Forrest smirks at me.
“Let’s eat first and then we can talk. It sounds like you are hungry, and to be honest, I am too. Today was hectic, and lunch was a quick snack that wasn’t enough,” Forrest says as he cuts his first mouthful of lasagna and holds it off his plate on his fork, but he waits for me to take a bite first.
“Mmmmm,” I murmur as I finish the first mouthful. “Oh my God, this is like an orgasm in the mouth.” As the words pass my lips, I know I should have kept that to myself.
“Noted.” He winks at me and takes his first mouthful.
Good one, Harper. Surely you can be classier than this. Keeping my head down and just eating without saying a word, I can feel Forrest watching me.
Lifting my head, he is not ashamed of being caught out, and I feel like the roles have reversed a bit.
Is he really flirting with me or is it just my imagination?
It’s been a weird day, so I doubt he is. I should just ignore it.
“That was amazing, Forrest, thank you,” I say, placing my knife and fork on my plate with the leftover food I can’t possibly fit in.
“Yeah, orgasmic, I heard.” He coughs into his fist as he throws my comment back at me.
“Don’t be an ass.” I push my plate away from me and lean back into the chair with the glass of red wine. From the first sip, I could tell it was exactly what I needed to calm my nerves.
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who said it.” Taking a sip of his wine, he then looks at me and we both start laughing, breaking the awkward silence and atmosphere between us.
“Let’s move to the couch to talk. You get comfortable, I’ll clear the dishes.” Standing, he reaches for my plate, but I grab it before he can.
“Not a chance. We clean up together, I’m not useless.” He goes to reply but instead just nods, and we both continue clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.
Forrest tops up our glasses with more wine, and as I reach the living room, I remember something Felisha once told me about him.
“Which seat is yours?” I ask.
He looks a little shy but points to the one on the end, which when you study it, you can see it has more wear than the other.
“Thank you,” he says and takes his seat as I choose one at the other end of the couch.
Felisha told me that he is a creature of habit. And my question seemed to mean a lot to him.
We both wriggle our bodies and let our muscles relax as we sag properly into the couch, before we look at each other, and I wonder where to start.
“I know I can be a dick, and living with me will be hard, but I figured if we talk about some ground rules, it will be easier,” he blurts out, and I’ve never been more thankful that he started us in the right direction.
“Well, if we are being honest, I know I will also be a bitch to live with on a good day, but if this turns into anything bigger than it is right now, I can’t guarantee I won’t become your worst nightmare. I have a flare for the dramatic.” I wave my hands in the air to accentuate the point
“No shit, Sherlock!” This time Forrest’s laugh is deep and from the bottom of his belly.
“Okay, that’s enough. Neither of us are perfect, although I’m damn close. I’m sure you agree.” Holding my glass in the air, Forrest follows. “To being perfect roomies.” I smile and all Forrest does is roll his eyes at me.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure about that, but let’s toast to roomies who get through this and are both still alive.”
“Yep, I’ll drink to that too.” I laugh. The second glass of wine is starting to take effect, and I’m feeling relaxed, which could be either good or bad, but I guess we will see the longer we talk.
“The first thing we need to agree on is that you won’t leave. I need you to promise me you will stay here so you are safe, no matter how much I piss you off,” he says.
“Bringing out the big one first. Well, since my only other choice is to live with Flynn and Felisha and have to listen to them having sex constantly, I guess you are stuck with me.” I screw my nose up at the thought of third-wheeling every night with the two lovebirds and having to wear earmuffs to bed.
“That’s not a promise.” He is always so straight down the line in these discussions.
“True, but it’s the best you are going to get.” I laugh at him looking annoyed at my answer.
We spend the next twenty minutes just talking normal logistics of how we’ll function around each other. Entering his office when he is working, sharing the workload of cooking etc. which was important to me, and of course him taking money from me for my share of the food. This one we debated for a while, and things started to get heated, but finally he understood my need to be independent and never rely on a man. It takes all my strength to be here because it goes against everything I have lived by for such a long time, so thankfully he started to see why I need to pay my own way.
He wasn’t happy but gave in anyway.
By this time, we are both onto our third glass of red wine and it’s starting to make the conversation slide to topics that aren’t as straightforward.
“I don’t want to cramp your dating life by being here, so just message me not to come home and I’ll go to Felisha’s or stay at work.” I giggle as I say the next part. “Or you know, like in university, leave a sock on the door and I won’t enter.” While I start laughing, the reaction from Forrest is the complete opposite.
“Not happening. I won’t be dating and neither will you,” he barks out at me, so stern like there is absolutely no chance of negotiation on this point.
“You don’t rule my life, you are just my landlord for a very short time, Forrest. So put the asshole back in his box.”
“No, it’s non-negotiable. It’s too dangerous. End of story.” He sits farther forward on the couch, his muscles tense like he is ready for a fight.
“Sure, just freak the shit out of me so I never look at another man again. Seriously, Forrest.” Mirroring his position on the couch, I can feel myself starting to fire up too. “You can do what you like in your boring life, but this woman has needs, you know. So, who is going to take care of them? You?” His jaw clenches at my question, and he is up and pacing his living room after slamming his wine glass down on the coffee table, with a look on his face that I can’t determine, but it’s almost one of disgust.
“That’s what I thought. You don’t do hookups, do you, Forrest. And for me, that’s all I’m interested in. So, you continue to sit here in your tower and wait for Snow White to come knocking on your door and then produce you seven little offspring. But don’t you dare look down on me for the way I live my life. You have no idea what’s inside here or here.” I point to both my head and then my heart. I’m surprised at how calm my voice stays.
I’m not letting him upset me this time. The more we argue about this, then at least it’s finally out in the open, not just an innuendo here and there.
“Let’s just leave it that our sex lives are our own business, and we agree they don’t happen here.” Placing my wine glass on the table, I too stand up and start to leave the room.
“I’m not done!” he yells after me.
“Well, I am. Good night, Forrest,” I call over my shoulder as I continue walking away.
“Why me, why do you want to fuck me!” His bold statement has me stopping in my tracks.
I have a split second to make a decision on how to answer this. And I choose the safe option.
“It doesn’t matter, because it’s never happening. Forget it, and I will too. Good night, friend.” This time I don’t stop and just continue to my room, closing the door and leaning my body against it.
That’s it.
I’ve said how it is and just put him in the friend zone. It’s a shame to miss out on that body. And with his demanding nature, I imagine sex with him would have been amazing, but it’s his loss. The opportunity is off the table now.
Now I just have to be the one to move on and pull back the flirting. I keep repeating my new mantra. He’s just a friend. A grumpy one, but he’s just a friend.
FORREST
How the hell did we just go from arguing about who is going to cook dinner tomorrow night to that?
Harper basically gave me the invitation to fuck her tonight and make her feel better. Oh, and I could have easily pushed her back down onto the couch, stripped her clothes off, and fucked her like she has never been fucked before, but I couldn’t. Especially when she can’t even tell me why she wants me.
Can’t she see there is more to life than that?
I just need her to tell me why. I need the connection. Surely, she can feel that it’s brewing under the surface for us both, but she has to want it too. It can’t be one-sided because that just leads to hurt, and I don’t want that. I’m too old for that.
At my age, the rush of good sex is just not enough anymore.
So much for heading to bed. Instead, I turn and storm toward the gym.
Time to get reacquainted with the punching bag again.
Who needs sleep anyway.
* * *
Forty-five minutes of boxing and finishing off with a run on the treadmill has exhausted me enough that I should pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow after a quick shower. But the moment I stepped under the water, I started thinking about her again, so there was no point heading to my room.
The one thing in my life that has been a constant is work, and there is always a report that needs reviewing, a stock market that is open, or a budget that I need to work on. Focusing on numbers is what I do when I need to block everything else out. Numbers don’t lie, they don’t give mixed signals, they are predictable, and they are black and white.
I like black and white. I’m not a gray person.
Losing myself in my work was exactly what I needed, and when I yawn for the first time, I look at the clock and am shocked to find it’s one am, and I have been in here for three hours.
Walking past her room, it’s silent on the other side of the door.
Obviously, the argument didn’t affect her as much as it did me and she was able to get to sleep. But then again, she’s not looking for more. So that was her just telling me she’s moving on, and in the grand scheme of things, that’s probably the best for both of us.
As I’m just about to close my door, I remember I forgot to take the croissants that I was going to use for breakfast out of the freezer. Padding back down the hallway after putting them out to defrost, I hear a noise, and I’m not sure what it is. The closer I get to Harper’s room, I can hear her walking around, which is weird. Shit, I hope I didn’t wake her up, walking back and forth. Surely not, no one is that light a sleeper. I was quiet.
Stopping for a moment in front of her door to see if she settles again, her footsteps get quicker and heavier, and I can hear her mumbling.
Is she okay?
She better not be packing her bags and thinking she can just leave. She promised. Well, technically she didn’t, but what she said was enough for me.
The rustling in the room is getting louder.
“Where are you? Daddy, don’t leave.” Her voice is muffled through the door, but I’m sure those are the words I heard. “I can’t find you.” There is the noise of drawers opening and closing.
Her voice is louder this time. “Daddy, please come back.” Shit, now I can hear her crying too.
Is she having a nightmare?
I open the door quietly, just a small amount, so I can try to see what she is doing.
She is standing there in her little sleep shorts and top. The bedside lamp is on and giving soft light through the room. She then walks to the window and pulls the curtain to the side and stares outside.
“Daddy, don’t go.” She then turns and starts toward the door where I am standing, so I push it open so she can see me and I don’t startle her. But it’s like she is looking straight through me.
“Harper.” I call to her softly, but it’s like she doesn’t even hear me then turns back to the window.
Shit, she’s sleepwalking while in the middle of a nightmare about her father. I don’t know everything that happened back then, just the basics, and I’m sure there is so much more to her memories of that time. A pain that I’m sure is hard to ever get over.
They say don’t wake sleepwalkers, but what the hell do I do? Harper is distressed and obviously going through something traumatic.
Maybe I can guide her back to bed, and she might fall back into a calmer sleep.
“Daddy,” she cries out louder this time and drops to her knees at the window, her hands on the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her crying is becoming an uncontrollable sob, and I can’t stand here any longer.
It might be the wrong thing to do, but I’ll deal with the fallout later. I can’t stand to see her hurting like this.
Coming up beside her, I kneel down on one leg so I’m level with her.
“Harper,” I whisper as I gently place my arm around her shoulder. And although she flinches just a little, she then starts relaxing into my body.
“He never came back, why didn’t he come back?” Burying her head in my shoulder, I make the decision to get her up off the floor, and wrapping her in my arms, I stand and carry her to the bed, feeling her body shaking with every sob.
“I’ve got you, Harper. You’re okay, it’s over.” I place her down softly on the bed, knowing that she probably won’t remember this in the morning.
But as my fingers start to leave her body, she grabs my wrist hard.
“Please hug me, just one last hug.” The strength she has pulling at my arm is surprising in her upset state.
And this is the moment I know for sure that she is still in her nightmare and talking in her sleep, because she told me straight up that she doesn’t like to be touched.
“Please.” She is now begging me, and I can’t walk away from that.
Lifting her over further on the bed, I tentatively lie down next to her, and before I can even worry about touching her, she has crawled into the side of my body.
Her head is on my bare shoulder on the opposite side to where she is lying, and I can feel the tears on her wet cheeks. Her ear is pushing hard against my chest above my heart. She starts to settle down on top of my chest, and she then latches her arms so tightly around my torso and her knees are curled up in a ball next to mine.
The moment I wrap my arms around her, she stops sobbing and her breathing starts to steady.
I continue to stroke her back and whisper to her, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I won’t ever let you get hurt like that again.”
I want to kiss her, but I stop myself and instead say the words I know I will never take back. “And that I can promise you.”
She might not be able to commit to a promise, but when I make one, I never back down from it.
Harper might not remember this cuddle in the morning, but I will never forget it.
There is much more to this woman than she has ever let anyone see, but I’m not walking away until she shows me. There is something between us, and now I just need to find out if it’s worth fighting her to see what it is.
“Sleep, Harper. Let me take it all away. Lean on me.”
And as if she understands, she takes a deep breath and then settles into a calm sleep state.
I know I should move her back onto the bed and leave, but I just want a few more minutes.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see her this peaceful with me again.
Just holding her a little tighter and knowing she needs me is something that I never knew I needed… until now.
HARPER
When I wake up this morning, things don’t seem right.
Thinking back to last night and my discussion—well, borderline argument with Forrest, and it explains the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
I don’t think I slept great, which I blame on the three glasses of red wine, but at least I didn’t have the dream.
Like I said to Felisha, hopefully it was a one-off, and I can move on and forget about it again.
I stretch my body out, my muscles feeling tense. It has been a few days since I have done a workout, and it’s not doing me any good. Picking up my phone, I see it’s still early, only just after five am. Maybe if I’m lucky I can use Forrest’s gym before he wakes and at least get a run in on his treadmill.
Hopping up out of bed, I open my door as quietly as possible to see his bedroom door is still closed.
Perfect.
Grabbing my workout gear, I go to the bathroom and get changed, grab my earphones and phone, and sneak down the hallway as softly as I can. Still half asleep, I fumble with the light switch, but when it turns on and I really take in his home gym, I begin to understand why he is in such good shape.
This room is like a professional gym. So many machines and things I have no idea how to use. I am a basic trainer. I walk, run, use the bike, and can use resistance machines. There are a few weights that I will use to do a couple of exercises, and I love a good yoga stretch session.
I shake my head because really, this is just like Forrest. Making sure he has every correct machine for whatever muscle group he is trying to work out that day. It’s just like his office really. Everything in excess, but not something I can dispute because I can understand the need for it.
Thankfully, the treadmill is fairly standard, so I work out how to start it and begin walking to warm up.
Scrolling on my phone, I pick out one of my favorite podcasts to start the day. It’s lighthearted and doesn’t involve much deep concentration. Three female friends who just talk about random topics with their callers. Funny things that have happened in their workplace, bad dates they have been on, the worst pick-up line on a dating app, which I may have sent in some of the classics from over the years to them. But the main reason I listen is because they make me laugh, and it’s a good way to start the day.
Especially after last night.
I think I feel heavy this morning after lying in bed last night, resigning myself to the fact that Forrest is off the table as far as a hook-up. For many reasons, but the main one is that I don’t want to hurt him.
He may be an arrogant asshole most days, but from what I saw last night when he relaxed with me and let that barrier of his down, just slightly, Forrest has a kindness to him that he gives freely and almost demands you take what he is giving. He has some work to do on how to manage that trait, but he just needs to find someone who will bring out the best in him for that to happen.
That’s not me.
I just make him agitated, and the feeling is mutual.
As I get fifteen minutes into my walk and the podcast is heating up, it’s time to run for at least ten minutes, get that heartrate up. Because after last night’s meal, I ate enough carbs to thicken these thighs, and if that is going to happen each night, this girl is in big trouble. A little laugh slips out as the girls on the podcast are talking to a woman in New York about a disastrous date.
“Truly, he said that he eats avocado with every meal. He read somewhere that if you were ever stranded on a deserted island and you had avocados, you would survive. So even for dessert we had to have avocado ice cream—which was gross, by the way. But I was invested in this guy. He was hot and gave off big-dick energy, so I suffered through the ice cream. We headed back to his place, and the moment things were getting hot and heavy, he says he’ll be back in a moment and then returns with a container that looked like guacamole. And in my head, I’m thinking, if I have to eat this while having sex, I’m going to lose it.”
I’m laughing a bit more now, just like all the women on the podcast are at the vision she is describing.
“But no, it was worse than that. He proudly told me he had made his own lube, by mixing gel with avocado. Like, what the actual fuck.”
I can’t help it, now I laugh out loud and start talking to myself like I do when listening to a podcast.
“Why would you ever use avocado as lube? Oh, that’s gross, imagine the mess in your vag. Ugh, that’s just vomit-worthy. Oh God, and a green dick with come leaking out of it looking like mayonnaise. Why would you even try to do that?”
“You wouldn’t. That’s just fucked up.” Forrest’s deep voice scares the hell out of me, and I stumble in my running.
“Shit!” I scream as he starts laughing while I’m falling, and he catches me in his arms before I break a leg.
“Stop scaring me!” I hit his chest as he sets my feet back on the ground.
“It’s only fair, because Harper Williams, you scare the shit out of me.”
And then he walks over to the other side of the gym and gets on the bike and starts to pedal.
What the hell did that mean? I feel like I’m missing something, and I hate that feeling.