19. Harrison
19
HARRISON
I wake with my head pounding. For a moment, I’m puzzled, remembering only a very wholesome evening with Daisy in which we ate dinner together and watched a violent movie.
Oh. Right.
The end of our wholesome evening hits me like a ton of bricks:
Daisy talking about how no one could find her clit.
Daisy saying, “ I can find it myself in way less time.”
And the raving lunatic inside me who wanted to say, “ I could find your clit. I could make you come so hard you wouldn’t be able to form words.”
Fuck. I probably drank half a bottle of bourbon in the hour after that.
It’s ridiculous, of course. There’s no way that lush little Daisy with her curves, and her husky voice, and her habit of making everything sound filthy isn’t going to find a man who turns her inside out. Everything about her begs you to try.
But it’s disgusting how badly I want to be one of the lucky pricks who gives it a shot.
I’m packing up my stuff Monday afternoon, eager to get home by high tide, when Aaron Baker, the managing partner, walks in.
“You off to a meeting?” he asks.
He assumes it’s a meeting because during all my time here, I never left early to go home. I never once said, “I feel like surfing” or “I want to see my wife.”
“No, actually. I’m just meeting a friend out at the beach. Things are still pretty slow.”
He raises a brow. “They aren’t going to improve if you’re cutting out of work at four-thirty.”
My jaw grinds. I worked like a madman for years, but here we are. It’s like I’m a fucking associate all over again. “I’m not going to sit here with no work just hoping something comes in, Aaron. My billables are fine.”
“You didn’t get where you were by doing fine before, Harrison. You know that. Look, I’ve got some contracts I need reviewed. I was going to give them to Zoe, but I’d rather have your eyes on them anyway. I’m heading out, but I’ll be back by nine to discuss.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me . He’s offloading work he was going to give to a junior associate simply to prove a point—that I owe him one for taking me back on.
And I hate reviewing contracts, though it’s about ninety percent of my job. How did I end up in this place in my life? I got a law degree because it seemed as if I should. I married Audrey because she seemed like the kind of woman I should marry, stayed with her because I was supposed to, and followed her to London because I couldn’t admit I’d fucking failed. It’s as if, somewhere along the way, I forgot I was supposed to enjoy my life, not simply win at it.
Normally I’d just shrug it off, but Baker’s bullshit means no surfing with Daisy, no dinner with Daisy, no fighting myself not to watch her shimmy out of her wetsuit, no coconut breeze as she passes me straight out of the shower.
And if I’m this bothered by missing a night with her, how the hell am I going to stand a weekend away in Malibu?
I can’t. I just can’t fucking do it.
Hey—is it okay if I bring someone?
Oliver
Someone female I assume? As long as it’s not the odious Audrey, the more the merrier.
Not a girl I’m dating. “Babysitting” is more accurate. You met her ages ago. Liam’s niece, Daisy? I don’t know if you remember.
Ah, yes, vaguely. If she’s half as attractive as her lovely mother, then she is definitely welcome.
I’d almost forgotten about that. Bridget is cute—blonde and blue-eyed like Daisy—and that alone was enough to make her everyone’s first crush. But there’s something lush and decadent about Daisy that Bridget never had, something you can’t drag your eyes from. I may not see Oliver often, but I know for damn sure it’s something he’ll want to explore. I think it’s why I said I was babysitting—so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about us, but more importantly, so that he wouldn’t get any wrong ideas for himself .
Lovelier. But she’s my friend’s kid, so any interaction with her needs to be celibate.
Oliver
I’ll consider myself warned.
The cynic in me—who once watched Oliver literally charm the pants off a woman on the dance floor of a bar in Mykonos—wants to extract further promises but doing that will just prove this is about more than me protecting my friend’s kid.
I guess it is about more, but as long as I don’t act on it, no one ever needs to know.
When I get home, Daisy’s curled up on the couch, reading a book, but what grabs my attention is the drawing that sits on the counter.
It’s a pencil sketch of her, looking lovely and incredibly fuckable in some weird bondage outfit. “What’s this?”
She shrugs. “This guy draws my picture every day. He always leaves me one when he’s done.”
I’m not sure if cartoon porn is a thing, but this drawing would fit right in with the genre if it was. “What’s with the dress?”
“It’s some video game he’s into. That’s what the character wears.”
My jaw grinds. This guy is one hundred percent drawing her in even fewer clothes and saving those pictures for himself. I wonder, for perhaps the third time in twenty-four hours, how I can convince her to quit that job.
“You want to come with me to Malibu next weekend?” I ask abruptly. It’s too abrupt. It sounds like a request I was obligated to make. “Oliver’s renting a house.”
She rolls her eyes. “Harrison, you don’t have to invite me. I’m not going to throw a party or drown, I promise.”
I set my keys on the counter and tug at my tie, which is suddenly strangling me. How do I persuade her without making it sound like something I’m doing for myself? “It’s not that. I just thought you’d…enjoy it. The place is right on the beach, and it’ll be warmer there than it is here. You could surf all day if you wanted.”
She eyes me warily, but there’s excitement in her gaze too. “I wouldn’t be in the way? ”
“I haven’t spent any significant time with Oliver in years. Matthew was the extrovert of the group, and he isn’t coming. If anything, you’ll make it less awkward.”
Her mouth softens. “Just admit that this is, at least in part, that you’re worried I’ll drown if you’re not looking out for me.”
“It is, at least in part, that I’m worried you’ll drown if I’m not looking out for you. But I do actually want you to come.” Our eyes meet . Come. I can’t think of anything I’ve wanted this much in years.
“Then I’ll come.” Her smile is so wide that I’m stabbed by it, both glad that I asked and regretting it at the same time.
There’s no way Oliver’s going to leave her alone, and I can hardly blame him.
I’m barely managing to do it myself.