Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Beehive Loop in Maine?”
She nods.
“Emerald Lake in Colorado?”
She nods again.
“Okay.” I frown, then straighten. “Angels Landing in Utah?”
She gives me a cheeky smile in answer, and I groan, chucking my phone across the bed.
We’re both completely naked, sprawled across the mattress.
We’ve been going at it for hours, only stopping when my phone blew up at midnight with family and friends texting and calling to wish me a happy new year.
I noticed she got at least one text message, but the rest of the time, she was lying next to me, her fingers roaming to distracting places.
I had no complaints and was highly motivated to put my phone on do not disturb.
“It’s not fair,” I complain. “I can’t believe you’ve done every hike on my list.”
She shrugs. “If it makes you feel any better, they all have gorgeous views. Totally worth being on your list.”
“Ugh, I hate you.” I fall back dramatically. “You’re only making me more jealous.”
Harlow’s hand reaches out to cup my breast, and I hide my small sigh in the crook of my elbow. I have my arm draped over my face to sell this whole pouty thing I’m going for.
“That won’t work,” I say.
“What?” she asks while rolling my now hard nipple over her fingertips, and, fuck, that feels good.
“You can’t use those magical little fingers of yours to make me forget how annoyed I am.”
She lets out a surprised laugh before sliding her hand down my stomach. “Oh, come on! You can’t be upset. I traveled the country in my van for two years.”
My arm drops, and I lift my head to show her my teasing grin. “You know, you’re seriously making me consider quitting my job. I’ll steal your van and go on my own adventure.”
Her mouth falls open in a show of aghast horror. “How dare you steal Haley.”
“Haley?”
“Mhm. I named her after the main character in the 2006 cult classic Stick It.”
I nod approvingly. “The ice tub scene.”
“The ice tub scene,” she confirms and softly strokes her thumb across my abdomen.
“Okay. I approve.”
“Thank you.” She chuckles and sits up. “Do you want anything to drink or a snack?”
I roll on my side to face her. “Don’t judge me, but I’m kind of craving popcorn.” She stares at me, and I playfully slap her arm. “I said, don’t judge me!”
“No, no. I’m not judging. Popcorn’s my favorite snack.”
“Really?”
Harlow jumps off the bed and reaches for my hand. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Daisy’s head pops up at the sound of the bedroom door opening, and she comes bouncing over to us from the couch. Harlow reaches down to greet her when she barrels past Harlow to crash into my legs.
“Okay, traitor,” she says to her dog.
I giggle while petting Daisy with both hands. Daisy preens under the attention, especially when I coo, “Oh, you poor thing. Did your mom lock you out? Were you stuck in the living room all by yourself? Oh, I know. That was so mean of her.”
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”
I wink at her before returning my attention to Daisy. “I know. I’ll sneak you an extra something for being such a good girl.”
Harlow watches us, a soft expression on her face, before she forcefully turns away and heads toward the kitchen. I linger a moment longer with Daisy before following after her. She pulls a popcorn machine from a top cabinet alongside an overflowing bin full of kernels, seasonings, and toppings.
“Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.” I set my hands on her hips and lean into the warmth of her body for a closer look at the basket.
“Salted caramel, zesty cheddar, ballpark original—How many seasonings do you have? And tell me you haven’t actually tried”—I grab one and squint—“chocolate peanut butter?”
“What’s wrong with mixing sweet and salty?”
I shake my head.
She chuckles and points toward her kernel selection. “Mushroom or butterfly?”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“It’s the shape.”
I continue to stare, dumbfounded.
“Mushroom has a sturdy baseball-like shape that’s good for mixing with toppings and stays fresh and crisper longer. Butterfly is more delicate and what’s commonly used by movie theaters.”
I snort and rest my forehead against her arm. “Oh, my god. You’re such a dork.”
She clutches a hand to her chest in faux offense. “Don’t be rude, or you won’t get any.”
“Any of the popcorn or any …?” I trail my fingers down her front and slip them in between her legs.
Her head falls back onto my shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut, as I stroke her center.
I stifle my groan at how wet she is and softly graze her clit before sliding my hand up her stomach and kissing her back.
“Keep it up and you won’t get either,” she says unconvincingly, given the slight tremor in her tone.
I smirk and lean against the counter while Harlow pours kernels into the machine. As much as I want to continue what I started, there’s something I need to bring up first. “Em texted that you were a no-show at Carlos and Brandon’s party,” I say. “And asked if you came to my parents.”
Her hand stills. “What? Why would she ask that?”
“Well, since she knows my mom works with you. Plus, she was trying to set us up at gayme night—and may have picked up on the fact something happened when they left to get pizza—she’s been unsubtly asking what I thought of you and pointing out how hot you are.
” The corner of my mouth tilts up. “She’s not wrong there. ”
Harlow swallows, her movements slow and controlled like she’s tense in thought.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we hooked up,” I say. Harlow visibly relaxes, and I smile. “I got the vibe you’re a pretty private person.”
“Yeah, sorry, I just …” she scratches her head. “It’s not you or anything. I—”
“Don’t like people in your business?”
She nods. “Yes. Especially because they’re all already trying to find me a girlfriend—even though I told them I don’t want one—and then Em and Naomi were trying to push us together when they left for pizza.
I can’t imagine what they’d do if they knew that we were …
” She swivels her thumb between our naked bodies.
“Oh, yes, they’d have a field day with this.
” I chuckle. “But, yeah, I’m no stranger to well-meaning friends trying to force a relationship.
They don’t get it. My career is my focus.
I’m not in a place where I can devote the time or energy a relationship needs, so it wouldn’t be fair to someone to even try. ”
“Exactly,” she says. “Like, sure, I’m no longer bouncing from place to place, but The Sweet Spot needs my undivided attention.
I’ve never worked in the food industry before, and I have so much to learn.
And, yeah, it’s the offseason, but, once we’re back open, I’ll be working ’round the clock.
It’s like you said, it wouldn’t be fair to someone. ”
“I totally understand,” I say. “But, you know, since neither one of us is looking for a relationship, I am curious. How do you feel about something casual?”
“Like friends with benefits?”
I shrug. “Yeah? I visit my family like once or twice a year. Nothing serious.”
She mulls it over, and I brace myself. My body hopes she says yes.
I had a similar arrangement with Casey that’s off the table now that she’s with Dakota.
And, no offense to Case, but sex with Harlow is so fucking hot, I just might find myself upping my visits to four or five times a year if she agrees.
“I’m interested, as long as this remains between us,” she says.
“I know we’re adults, so she probably won’t care, but I really need your mom’s help at work, and I don’t want to risk things being weird or her backing out, just in case.
I already don’t understand why she’s being so generous to begin with. ”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Harlow sighs. “I inherited this business from my uncle and—Well, that’s not important.
Look, as I mentioned, I don’t have any prior experience, and your mom showed up one day offering to teach me everything she knows for nothing in return.
Literally nothing—not even a minimum wage paycheck—and I wasn’t exactly in a position to turn her down. ”
“Ah, yeah, that’s my mom for you.” I grin. “She’s an intelligent, ruthless businesswoman—who might be a bit of a workaholic—but she’s also incredibly generous and a massive believer in mentorships. She’s always looking for ways to help others climb up the ladder.”
Harlow’s forehead furrows like she’s deep in thought.
“Look, my mom won’t stop mentoring you because of this, but we don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. Besides, as close as I am with my mom, my sex life isn’t my preferred topic of discussion.”
She laughs softly, then slowly slides her fingers up my thigh. “Then I only have one very important question left to ask.”
“Yeah?”
She tugs her popcorn container toward us. “What’s your seasoning of choice?”