Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
OLIVE
“I can’t tell you the sexy details!” I screech in embarrassment.
Zoe pouts. “Oh, come on! You’re getting more sex than I have in months! Give a girl a little something, let me live vicariously.”
I can feel my cheeks turning a bright crimson. The truth is, I want to tell my best friend everything, but things with Harrison seem so tenuous that I just don’t want to jinx anything. I decide to throw her a small bone. “I’ll just say it was worth the wait.”
Zoe squeals. “I knew it! Tell me… is he as hot without his clothes as I think he is?”
“Better,” I say with a giggle. “He’s got tattoos hiding under those suits of his that make him look almost roguish. Especially with his beard.”
“Is he good to you?” she asks, sobering.
“Yeah… he’s not at all what I thought he would be.” I know I probably sound like I’m stupid in love with the man… or at least in stupid levels of like, but I can’t help it. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t fall for him?
It’s impossible when he’s cooking dinners, wining and dining in lovely restaurants, and coming over just because he doesn’t want to be apart. Not to mention the phone calls and texts. He’s not the arrogant ass I thought he was when we first bumped into each other. He’s different with me.
“You really like this guy,” Zoe says, frowning.
I flop back against the couch and cover my face with my hands. “I really do,” I mumble.
“What about the man that Rita matched you with?”
“I’m going to write him a letter telling him I can’t see him. I’m just not the kind of girl who can have two men on the hook.” It’s true, the guilt I’ve felt is real, and it feels like black tar on my heart.
I look at the clock and notice it’s past eight already.
Harrison hasn’t called or texted since early this morning.
I know he’s traveling home today, but I thought he would call me by now.
I chew on my bottom lip, both hoping he’s okay and worrying that he might finally be realizing that I’m not what he wants.
It’s obvious to me that he wasn’t looking for a relationship when he met me.
It wasn’t until he realized I was a virgin that he changed his tune.
I’ve read romance novels about cherry chasers, but that doesn’t fit Harrison either.
If that were the case, he would’ve taken my virginity that first night and been done with me the next day…
but he didn’t. He even said that I deserve better.
Unless that was part of the game…
Zoe and I don’t talk about Harrison anymore. For that, I’m thankful because my mind is doing enough talking for the both of us and none of it feels very good to my in-too-deep heart. After a couple more episodes of Friends, she heads home with promises of donuts and coffee later in the week.
I still haven’t heard from Harrison, and my heart hurts wondering if he’s done with me now.
After a quick shower, I pull on an oversized t-shirt and crawl into bed.
It takes a long time for me to drift off to a fitful sleep, my mind filled with Harrison with a tall, buxom brunette laughing about me, thinking he would ever choose a woman like me.
I’m jerked from sleep by a knock on my door.
Bleary-eyed, I answer without looking, not my finest moment of single woman safety in the city.
I’m surprised to see Harrison standing there in a t-shirt and jeans.
I’ve got to admit, even to my sleep addled mind, he looks damn good in casual clothes.
Maybe better than in his suits. His tattoos are on display on his arm, and the jeans hang low showing off his trim waist.
God, he’s sexy.
“Olive.” He says my name like it’s the most precious word in the dictionary, and I can’t help but melt. All worries from earlier are crushed under the weight of that one word.
“You didn’t call,” I respond stupidly.
“Sorry, angel. My phone died, and I forgot my charger in the hotel.”
His explanation is so simple and makes me feel like an idiot for letting my imagination get the best of me. Another hazard of my job, I suppose. If only my imagination would save the drama for my novels.
“It’s okay…”
“Were you worried?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
I nod my head, and he makes a pained sound, then closes the distance between us and wraps me up in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses the top of my head and apologizes again. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
I shake my head, feeling silly. “It’s not your fault I have an overactive imagination.”
Harrison chuckles. “I happen to like your imagination.”
I relax into his hold, enjoying the warmth of his strong arms around me.
“That’s good. An active imagination is sort of my thing.”
I try to hold it back, but I let out a jaw-cracking yawn. It’s way past my bedtime and I’m exhausted from sleeping so poorly before he got here.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” he says.
I squeal when he picks me up and carries me to the bedroom.