Chapter 5 She’s Back, Baby
SHE’S BACK, BABY
JESSA
The bells I installed above Mad Mug’s door ring out like a death knell as Alice leaves, because dead is what I’ll be once Ori finds out that she’s back and that I didn’t tell him right away.
Or maybe I’ll be spared from his wrath when he sees her—cute button nose smattered with freckles, full cheeks, and ink-smudged fingers—and the past twenty years of shit he’s ignored comes crashing through his window.
He’ll understand. Eventually.
My phone buzzes, and Harley’s name pops up on my screen.
She came by???
HARLEY
Did she remember you? I don’t think she remembered me.
HARLEY
Stop by after closing. I don’t want all this in texts in case Ori snoops. You know how he is when you act weird.
UGH
HARLEY
I’m not going to act weird.
HARLEY
Babe…
I SWEAR I WON’T
HARLEY
Uhuh.
Also. Funny story. I’m behind because I was distracted by her before and put a bunch of sci-fi in the autobiography section and now I have to go back and fix it.
HARLEY
So idk when I’ll be done for the day.
HARLEY
Then stop texting me and hurry the fuck up?
Yes, ma’am.
HARLEY
A smile curves my lips; it doesn’t matter that Alice was a distraction for him today, the man is chronically late every day of his life. Even when we were kids, we’d have to tell him something started fifteen minutes earlier than it did so he’d be on time.
So, I’m not surprised that when he pushes through the door, it’s no less than forty-five minutes after we close.
“Hey, I’m sorry I’m—” Harley stops short at my raised palm.
“No apologies,” I chide. There’s a firmness to my tone, one that sends a visible shiver through his body. My pointer finger curls, beckoning him over. “Drop the bag. Come here.”
The café is dark—only the service lights above us are on and humming, and they paint us in soft ochre hues. Harley’s pale white skin glows where he’s spotlighted, and the expanse of his long neck bobs at my commands.
The strap of his leather messenger bag slides from his shoulder, and the tote thunks heavily on the tile floor, undoubtedly full of books.
Ever since we came to Meadowbrook, he’s been hungry for every scrap of information on humans and their world’s history.
I’ve always wondered if it’s an obsession born of his own curiosity, or a way to prepare for what lies ahead if we ever get to go back home for good.
Harley slots perfectly between my legs, and my thighs squeeze his slender hips.
He’s taller than me, but if anyone in this small town peeped though the glass windows there would be no mistaking who held the power here.
His hands find purchase on the counter on either side of me, and his forehead falls to my shoulder, body melting into mine.
This close, the scent of him is strong. Paper musk, cinnamon, and a hint of soft linen. It soothes the beast that prowls inside of me, unable to be released in this realm.
The tip of Harley’s nose nuzzles my pulse-point as he scents me back.
“Hey,” I whisper, my arms snaking around his body.
One hand anchors at Harley’s nape, my thumb brushing against the soft crop of his hair.
The other runs a line up and down his back, and he shudders under my subtle ministrations.
But when his hips push forward—whether intentional or not—my grip on his neck becomes firm, and I pull his head from its burrow at my collarbone.
“Babe.” I tsk.
A pained expression tightens Harley’s features, and a sound akin to a whine escapes him. “Please? I’ve been hard all day.”
I snort and make no move to address the growing pressure of his hips on my core. “Didn’t you want to discuss the extremely convenient return of our blonde friend first?”
Harley’s head falls back with a groan, highlighting how quickly his pulse thumps beneath his skin. “That’s why I’m hard. She smells like fresh sugar cookies, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I was so confused. And when I realized who she was—”
“I asked her out.”
“What?” Harley squeaks, head snapping forward.
“I asked her out,” I say, slower this time, annunciating every word while my nails trace patterns over his throat. “She said yes.”
“She did?”
“Well, sort of.” I lick my lips, choosing my words carefully. “It’s the friendly kind of hang out. A get to know you type of thing.”
Harley’s eyes narrow on me, suspicion tucked between his lashes. “I take it that means she doesn’t remember you either? Not at all?”
“No,” I say. A smirk curls my lips, my devious nature blooming in full force. “But you’re right that she does smell good. I know she’s technically Ori’s fated, but she smells like ours. I want her.”
“Jessa,” Harley grinds out, rubbing his hands over his face. His glasses tilt, skewed above his knuckles as he digs into the pressure points at the corner of his eyes. “That’s not why I sent her to Mad Mug. She was hungry. I wanted her to get food, not to be hit on.”
“I assured her it didn’t need to be romantic,” I say, pulling at the crook of his elbows to free his face from his hands. “At least not at first. There’s no way she won’t fall for us. I’m incredibly charming.”
“You’re incredibly demanding is what you are,” Harley huffs, letting his hands fall. They land on my thighs and squeeze, all his nervous hope apparent in the pressure of his fingers on my flesh. Quietly, he asks, “Are you sure about this?”
I nod. “This is our chance to have it all, Harley. Heart and home. I got over my anger a long time ago. I know you did too. So, why not try?”
His jaw works back and forth as he thinks. “Ori hasn’t gotten over it, and she’s his Champion. How are we going to tell him?”
“We’re not,” I say with a shrug. “At least, not yet.”
“That feels like a huge overstep.”
It takes all my willpower, but I manage to hold back my eyeroll. Ori may be my best friend, but he’s had enough time to get his shit together. If he won’t lead us, then I will.
“He’ll realize he can’t outrun Fate when he meets her,” I say, fully believing it. “And by then, it’ll be too late.” I run a thumb over Harley’s jaw, tenderly stroking back and forth. “Hopefully it’ll push him to talk to you, too. He can’t keep ignoring you.”
A moment of intense stillness passes between us, one where the weight of the past two decades of searching—of waiting—lifts, ever-slightly.
Finding Alice changes everything.
“So… what next?” Harley asks, softly.
“As much as we don’t want to rush things, time isn’t on our side.” He nods his understanding; there are larger forces at work here, and we only have a few months left to reclaim our home. “We need to be careful though… She’s got this haunted look in her eyes.”
“I noticed that too.”
I grab his head, my thumbs resting on each of his high cheekbones, and pull our foreheads together.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “You trust me, right?”
“With my whole heart.” His minty breath puffs over my lips, as if he had chewed gum before coming over.
“Good,” I say. “Then let me take care of it.”
I press a single, chaste kiss to his cheek, then slant a second heated one over his soft and pillowy lips.
I hum at how easily he yields to me, and my tongue laps up the groan that slips between the seam of his parted mouth.
Harley’s hands slide up my thighs and wrap around my hips, tugging me forward so our bodies are molded together. He grinds his hard length against me.
Breaking our kiss, I tsk. “You know the rules.”
“Jessa,” Harley whispers my name. It’s not a plea for his release—no, the man loves to be edged within an inch of his life, and he’s desperate to please.
To please and be praised for it.
I curl my fingers through his soft, white locks, tugging on the strands the way he likes as I push his head lower.
“On your knees.”