34. One of The Many
THIRTY-FOUR
One of The Many
Harry
T hat evening, they’d had dinner with Harry’s family at The Lodge, then went to the Squirrel’s Nest for an after-dinner drink before Harry knew (and put it instantly out of his mind) his father wanted his woman alone in a hotel room, the same with his brother, so those four took off to the Pinetop.
Josh and Amanda were leaving early the next morning because Josh had some appointments in the afternoon he hadn’t had time to reschedule.
His dad and Caroline were staying an extra few days so Greg could commune with some of his old buddies and introduce them to Caroline.
And Harry knew he and Lillian shared the same thing on their minds when he pulled Lillian’s coat off her shoulders, exposing the figure-hugging sweater dress she was wearing under it, a dress that had dicked with his dick all night (her high heeled boots just added insult to injury, though, this was the kind of pain Harry was never going to complain about), and she said, “I’m not sure Greg and Caroline are feeling the whole, I’ve-been-burned-you’ve-been-burned-let’s-keep-this-casual thing anymore.”
“Getting the same feeling,” he remarked, taking her coat to the hall closet.
“Are you okay with that?” she asked, her gaze intent on him.
“Couldn’t be happier,” Harry answered. “As you can tell, Caroline is an amazing woman. She makes Dad happy. So, yeah. They make things official, however they do it, I’m all for it.”
Her intensity cleared, she shot him a soft smile and joked, “Moran men on the move.”
He returned her smile and hung up her coat before he shrugged off his leather one and did the same with it.
“Feeling one last whisky?” she asked.
He was feeling recommencing what they’d been interrupted doing that morning, but since they’d had the intrusion, he was also feeling he should give it another couple of days.
“No, I’m good.”
“I’m going to make some tea, want some of that?” she offered.
He didn’t normally drink tea.
But he was living his life again, so what the hell.
“Sure.”
She grabbed the copper kettle from her stove and took it to the sink.
She then blindsided him. “Want to share what’s got you wound up since you took off this morning?”
He noticed her tenseness then, something she’d also been hiding until she asked that question.
“It isn’t about your mom and dad,” he assured.
She put the kettle on the stove, switched on the burner, then turned to him and raised her brows.
They’d made so many inquiries, it wasn’t a secret they’d reopened Muggsy Ballard’s case.
But Harry had been coasting on brunch plans, her spa appointment, contacting his insurance agent, putting up plywood and sweeping up glass, installing a thermostat (among other things), and Lilly and him changing into something nicer to go to The Lodge as his ploys not to share what his dad had discovered that morning.
He couldn’t dodge it any longer.
“We’ve reopened a case that was deemed a suicide, but it was a homicide, and the person that’s implicated is feeling antsy. He vandalized my house.”
“Oh, Harry,” she whispered.
But he watched carefully, and he didn’t see fear permeating her features.
First, there was obvious upset on Harry’s behalf.
Then, anger.
“Who would do something like that?” she snapped.
Her eyes got big when it came over her, remembering that question was one she was waiting on an answer to for her tragedy.
Therefore, Harry went to her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her hands on his chest.
“This is the first time something like this has happened. We got him on video. I know who he is. It’s just finding him now,” he told her.
“Okay,” she replied.
“Normally, even the stupidest criminals know not to directly dick with a law enforcement officer in this way,” Harry went on.
“If you know who this guy is, do you know if he’s stupider than the stupidest criminal?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “He’s not the brightest bulb in the box. But he might think he can intimidate me. Though, he also knows me, so he probably knows that’s not going to happen.”
“So…” she let that trail to prompt him to go on.
“If I had to guess, he definitely knows we’re looking for him. He knows what he did, even if we don’t understand the full extent of it yet. He’s running scared and he’s the kind of guy who would act out rather than do the right thing.”
She slid her hands up to his neck and remarked, “You’ve got a very complicated job, Harry Moran.” She used her thumbs to stroke the sides of his throat. “You sure it doesn’t weigh on you?”
“I never said it didn’t, honey,” he told her gently. “I just said there’s nothing else I’d want to do. Some days are like today, irritating and frustrating. The thing I know is that humans will never stop doing that kind of shit.”
He had to go on carefully, but he’d already learned this was Lillian Rainier. Simon and Avery had raised a strong, smart, loving girl who could take some serious licks.
So he went on.
“But then we get those days we can give answers to people who need them and justice for people who deserve it. There isn’t a job out there that doesn’t come with some heavy, Lilly. Maybe mine is heavier some days, but in the end, it’s worth it.”
She had that look on her face again, the one she wore that morning, and he thought it was about what he’d just said, and perhaps it was.
But there was more.
“You gave me more than a thermostat today, Harry,” she noted.
He did.
She had a new doorbell with a camera and there was also a camera on the side door that led to the backyard from her garage.
“It’s basic safety these days, sweetheart.”
It was the truth, but there was more.
She knew there was more because she cocked her head.
“And I’m not taking any chances,” Harry continued. “I know Ronetta comes and goes as she pleases, but I’m going to ask you to lock your doors when you’re home from now on. You should do it anyway. I just want to be careful. I can get you new locks so Ronetta and George, and anyone you want can get in with just a fingerprint.”
“That might be kinda fun,” she replied.
He was glad she was going to look at it that way.
The kettle whistled and she slid out of his hold to go get some mugs and a box of tea.
After she’d set everything up and poured the water, she handed him a mug.
“Peppermint,” she explained. “The massage therapist told me I had some crazy knots in my muscles, and I might get a little nauseous because she released some toxins. She wasn’t wrong. I feel kind of queasy. Mint helps.”
“You got Epsom salts?” he asked.
She shook her head, cautiously sipping, then she said, “Wait. Someone sent a basket of bath stuff after they heard about Mom and Dad. I think there were some salts in that.”
“I’ll draw you a bath, put in the salts. They leech out the toxins, and it’ll help you relax.”
As answer, she slid her fingers up into his hair and put pressure on his scalp, but Harry didn’t make her try too hard to bend his neck as she came up on her toes and pressed her mouth tight to his.
Harry initiated tongue, Lillian instantly responded, but this wasn’t one of their kisses that fed their fire.
It was thorough, but languid and sweet.
Lillian had had a good day surrounded by family and people who cared. She’d had a massage, and that, coupled with a hot bath, would hopefully help her sleep, and that was what Harry wanted for her.
So this kiss was about intimacy, closeness, togetherness.
This was one of the many types of kisses they’d share thousands of over the decades. A late-evening lazy kiss that said everything, but didn’t have to lead to anything.
Harry absolutely wanted to guide their relationship to the next level.
But right now, this was precisely what both of them needed.
And this was what they had.
Later, while Lillian was in the bath, Harry had the game on and his dogs around him.
And he found he actually liked peppermint tea.