Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
H arlow sipped her wine. She’d found dinner relaxing and fun.
Mrs. Norcross had cooked lasagna, and it had been delicious. Easton and his brothers liked giving each other a hard time in a fun, sibling way, with Gia getting in her fair share of digs as well.
Ethan and Clara Norcross were friendly, supportive, loving parents. As Harlow listened to the conversation, she stared at her red wine. She realized that while she loved her family, they didn’t have this type of connection.
Growing up, her father was often busy, or in meetings, and her mother was frequently in bed with a headache. Scarlett was younger than Harlow, and while Harlow adored her sister, they didn’t have loads in common.
“Hey.” Easton touched Harlow’s chin. He had one arm resting along the back of her chair. “Where did you go?”
“Just thinking. You have a great family, Easton.”
“Yes, when they aren’t driving me crazy.” She heard the affection in his voice. Vander called out to him and he turned away.
When she looked up, she found Mrs. Norcross watching her speculatively. Harlow swallowed.
Clara rose, lifting some plates. “Harlow, will you give me a hand in the kitchen?”
Uh-oh . She felt the inevitable interrogation coming on.
Harlow stacked some plates and took them into the bright-white kitchen. It had top-of-the-line appliances, and gorgeous, white-marble countertops.
“Your kitchen is lovely.”
Clara smiled. “Easton renovated it for me a few years back.”
“He loves you.”
“Yes, and he takes good care of those he loves. It’s in his blood. When he joined the Army, I wasn’t surprised. He wanted to serve his country and help other people.”
Harlow nodded.
“But going to war changed him.” The older woman’s dark eyes turned shadowed. “He rarely talks of it.”
“He’s told me a little. I see the darkness sometimes.”
Clara nodded. “He fights it back, but sometimes he’s too hard on himself.”
Harlow smiled. “You mean he’s a workaholic who can’t stop and relax.”
“Yes.”
They shared a smile of understanding.
“My Easton needs someone who brings him sunshine and joy, but who can handle the dark.”
Harlow’s belly churned. All she’d brought him was headaches. “I agree. He needs someone like that.”
Clara arched a brow. “You talk like that isn’t you.”
Harlow pulled in a breath, fighting to keep a hold on her emotions. “We both know it isn’t. Easton deserves the best, and it isn’t me. I’m not bringing him calm and happiness, I’m bringing him stress and problems. I’m not good enough for him.”
Easton stalked into the kitchen, his face angry and his gaze on Harlow. “That’s bullshit.”
She held up her hand. “Easton—”
He grabbed her arms. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that about yourself again. You don’t think you bring me calm and happiness?”
“No! Because of me you got shot at, and had to beat up two guys, and it’s not over yet. You and Vander are spending a fortune to protect me and find my father—”
Easton made an annoyed sound. “I don’t care about any of that. You don’t think when you make an acerbic comment about how rich I am, or how I work too hard, I don’t feel like laughing? You don’t think when you smile, I don’t feel the warmth?”
Her pulse went crazy. Oh, God.
“You don’t think when I’m deep inside you, I don’t feel happy?”
Harlow’s mouth dropped open. His words hit her in her heart, but— “Easton, your mother is standing right there!” Heat flooded her cheeks.
“My mother knows her kids have sex.”
Clara laughed softly. “And she has sex, too.”
Easton’s face froze, then he winced. “Ma, not another word.” He refocused on Harlow and cupped her cheeks. “You don’t think when you sleep pressed against me, I don’t feel fucking everything?”
“Easton, language,” Clara said quietly.
He ignored his mom.
Harlow swallowed, her chest about to burst. “My father—”
“You are not your father. You’re not responsible for his actions, or his mess.” Easton pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re beautiful, smart, hard-working—”
“You should be with someone extraordinary. Some gorgeous woman with four degrees, who speaks French and Italian, who started her own business and turned it into a multimillion-dollar empire with her intelligence, grit, and savvy.”
“I don’t want your imaginary perfect woman, Harlow, I want you.” He nipped her lips. “You see me. You see Easton. You don’t see my bank account, or my position, or my influence. You’re about as easy to give anything to as hugging a hedgehog.”
Harlow sniffed. “Hedgehogs are cute.”
His lips quirked. “You’re mine now.”
She melted against him. She could only put up so much of a fight, and she had no defenses against Easton Norcross.
“And you can always learn French and Italian.”
She elbowed him.
“Wonderful.” Clara clapped her hands together, her face filled with satisfaction. “Now, time for dessert.” She pulled a tray of cannoli out of the fridge.
Harlow met Easton’s gaze and he ran his finger down her nose. Then he tugged her back into the dining room.
She ate until her skirt waistband was digging into her skin.
“Time to go home,” Easton murmured.
Home. Together.
“Harlow,” Gia said. “We’re doing drinks tomorrow. It’s Saturday, and you need to destress.”
“How about we go to Charmaine’s?” Haven suggested.
Oh, Harlow had only been to the funky rooftop bar once, and loved it.
Easton leaned forward. “I want Harlow safe until the issues with her father are sorted. No going out.”
Thinking of her father made Harlow’s contentment from the evening dim.
“Fine,” Gia said, undeterred. “Drinks at Easton’s bar.”
Harlow frowned. “Easton’s bar?”
“He has an entire bar room in that big house of his. There’s a pool table, and the bar is fully-stocked.” Gia reached out and squeezed Harlow’s hand. “We’ll make our own fun.”
“Maybe I have plans,” Easton said.
“Now you have better ones,” his sister countered.
He shook his head.
Finally, they said their goodbyes.
“I’ll call when we have something,” Vander said. “Your dad can’t have gotten far.”
“Thanks, Vander,” Harlow said.
Ethan Norcross hugged her, and for a second, she wanted to hold on to his solid body and absorb as much of his paternal comfort as possible.
“Let my boy take care of you, Harlow. He needs it.”
She nodded.
“And take care of him back.” Ethan winked.
Clara hugged her too, pressing kisses to both her cheeks. “Everything will be fine, Harlow. You’ll see.”
In the car, Harlow stared out of the window as they drove back to Pacific Heights. She looked at Easton through the shadowed car. He drove well. It was sexy to watch those long fingers on the wheel.
“What’s going on in your head?” he asked, as he pulled into his garage.
“I can’t just sit around doing nothing, and letting Vander do all the work. I need to help find my father.”
Easton’s face hardened. “You aren’t traipsing around San Francisco—”
“No,” she interrupted him. “I’m not stupid.” They headed to the elevator. “I’m going to make a list of dad’s friends. He could be staying with one of them, or they could’ve helped him.”
Easton nodded slowly as the elevator ascended. “That’s actually a good idea.”
She shot him a dry look. “I do have them once in a while.”
“I know. The best one you had was when you decided to sleep with your boss.”
“I don’t remember sleeping with Meredith.”
He tugged her closer and nipped her jaw.
“I’m going to make the list tonight, and I’ll call around tomorrow.” Harlow felt energized. This was a way to help and take control of the situation.
“Come on.” He pulled her down the hall and into a media room. The walls were a dark gray, and the screen was enormous. Huge, black-leather chairs filled the space, and framed, classic-movie pictures were lined up on the walls.
“This is awesome,” she said. “Movie nights must be amazing. Big screen. Popcorn.”
She saw Easton blink.
She put her hands on her hips. “You’ve never done a movie night?”
“I don’t have time.”
“Because you’re a workaholic. “
“I sometimes have gaming nights with Saxon and my brothers.”
Harlow was totally going to make him do movie nights.
He moved to a small, built-in bar and opened a bottle of wine. He brought her back a glass of deep-ruby-red liquid. She sat in one of the big chairs, snuggling into the leather.
Then she pulled out her phone and started making a list of all her father’s friends she could remember. Old work friends, golf buddies, neighbors.
“So, do you want to watch a movie?” Easton asked.
“No,” she said. “I want to try one of these games you mentioned.”
His dark brows lifted. “Do you game?”
“No, but I’m up for anything.” She kicked her shoes off and leaned back.
He eyed her legs. “All right. What game?” He grabbed a controller and the screen lit up.
She studied the options. “How about Call of Duty ?”
“You want to shoot people?”
“Sure, as long as they aren’t real people. Is that okay? It doesn’t bring back old memories—?”
“It’s fine.”
“Okay.” She took another controller. “Prepare to have your butt kicked, Norcross.”
* * *
“Yes, yes , I’m going to make it!”
Easton glanced at Harlow, enjoying her cries as her fingers stabbed at the Xbox controller.
She was perched on the edge of her chair, no shoes, her skirt hiked up, and totally absorbed in the game.
“Hey, come back here, you coward!” she yelled at the screen.
She bit her tongue, chasing a bad guy on the screen.
Easton was looking at her cute red toenails. He smiled. They’d been playing for almost two hours.
A cut scene hit, and showed a man tied to a chair. Several soldiers moved around him, and an interrogation began.
Easton tensed. He heard the faint rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire. He smelled dust, sweat, and fear.
“Hey.” Harlow slid into his lap. She cupped his face, her brow creased.
He blinked and saw that the game was paused, but when he looked back, all he saw was Harlow.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. We can play something else.”
“No, I’m okay. I’ve been fine the last two hours.”