Harlow #2
Wade didn't pretend not to understand. “Then we deal with it.”
“How?” she asked.
“One thing at a time,” he insisted.
She gave a humorless laugh. “Unwrap it?” He looked at her, and she remembered—"One piece at a time.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
“What if there's nothing left when I'm finished?”
Wade frowned. “What?”
“My life.” Her voice cracked. “My father controlled the money. The house I lived in belongs to one of his companies. My car is in his name. My phone was on his account. My credit cards—”
“Harlow,” Wade said.
“Everything I thought was mine belonged to him,” she said.
“You've got yourself,” he reminded.
She laughed bitterly. “That doesn't pay rent.”
“You've got somewhere to live,” he reminded.
“Your house isn't mine,” she said.
“Didn't say it was.” She flinched, and Wade cursed. “That came out wrong.”
“No. You're right,” she said.
“That's not what I meant,” he said again.
“I can't stay with you forever,” she insisted.
Something strange crossed his face. “No.” The word bothered her more than it should have. Of course she couldn't stay forever. She barely knew him. So why did hearing him agree hurt?
Harlow looked away. “I need a job.”
Wade stared at her. “What?”
“A job,” she said. “I need to find a job.”
“I heard you,” he said.
“I need money,” she insisted.
“You don't need money right now,” he said.
“Yes, I do,” she challenged.
“I can—” he started.
“No.” His brows drew together. “I don't want your money.”
“Didn't say you did,” he said.
“You were about to offer,” she insisted. “I need my own money.”
“Harlow—” he breathed.
“I've spent my entire life having men control me because they controlled everything I needed.” Wade went quiet, and she turned toward him. “I can't leave my father and then let another man pay for everything.”
His expression changed. It wasn’t anger, but understanding. “Okay.”
She blinked. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“You're not going to argue?” she asked.
“Thought about it,” he said with a shrug.
She almost laughed. “Thank you.”
“What can you do?” he asked.
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
“For work,” he said. “What can you do for work?”
“I can do plenty,” she insisted.
“Such as?” he asked.
“I have a degree,” she said.
“A degree in what?” he asked.
“Business,” she said.
“That narrows it down,” he teased.
“Business administration,” she informed.
“Do you have any experience?” he asked.
Harlow hesitated, and Wade raised an eyebrow. “I've worked.”
“Doing what?” he asked.
“My father's charitable foundation,” she said.
“What'd you do?” he asked.
“Fundraising, event planning, donor management, and accounting,” she said.
“You handle money?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“You good at it?”
“Very,” she insisted.
Wade nodded thoughtfully. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?” he asked.
“The one where you're deciding something without asking me first.”
His mouth twitched. “You need a job.”
“Yes, we’ve already determined that,” she said.
“Well, it just so happens that I need help,” he said.
She cocked her eyebrow at him, not sure if she was going to like what he needed help with. “What exactly do you need help with?” she hesitantly asked.
“I need help around the bar,” he said.
Harlow stared at him. “Wait, you want me to work at your bar?”
“Yep,” he said.
“You want me to work at Wade's Watering Hole?” she repeated. He nodded, and she laughed, but he didn't. “Oh, you’re serious.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal, but she could tell that it was to him. “You said you can handle accounting,” he said.
“Yes, I can.”
“Well, that’s good because my books are a fucking mess,” he admitted.
“That's reassuring,” she mumbled.
“They're legal,” he insisted. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he flashed her his sexy grin. “Mostly.”
“Wade,” she said.
“I’m kidding,” he breathed.
She wasn't entirely sure he was. “You'd hire me?”
“The job is yours if you want it,” he offered.
“I've never worked in a bar,” she warned.
“You can learn the basics,” he said. “I’ll even let you work behind the bar.”
“I don't know anything about bartending,” she said.
“Can you pour whiskey into a glass?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Congratulations. You're halfway trained.”
She laughed. “That's not how bartending works.”
“You'd be surprised,” he grumbled.
Harlow studied him. “Would this be a real job?”
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked.
“You'd pay me?” she questioned. “An actual wage.”
“Yes,” he breathed, rolling his eyes at her. “Unless you'd prefer to be paid in bottle caps.”
“Wade,” she warned.
“Yes, Harlow. I'd fucking pay you,” he said.
“And I wouldn't be some charity case?”
His expression hardened. “No. I don't do charity.” She suspected that was a lie. The man had spent an entire night sitting in a chair because she'd asked him not to leave her alone. But she let it go—for now.
“When do I start?” she asked.
Wade stared at her. “Seriously?”
“You offered, and I’m accepting,” she said.
“I thought you'd think about it,” he breathed.
“I just did,” she said.
“For ten seconds,” he chided.
“I think fast,” she said, holding out her hand to him. Wade looked at it. “We should shake on it.”
“You're weird,” he mumbled.
“Shake my hand, Wade,” she insisted. He took it. His rough palm closed around hers, and Harlow's pulse skipped again. Goddammit.
“Welcome to Wade's Watering Hole, runaway bride,” he teased.
She narrowed her eyes. “Call me that at work and I'm filing an HR complaint.”
“I am HR,” he reminded.
“Of course you are,” she grumbled.
“And the owner.” His thumb brushed unconsciously over the back of her hand, and neither of them let go.
Harlow looked down at their joined hands and then back up at him.
Wade was watching her. That same heat from earlier returned, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Her heart pounded just like last time, but this time, she knew exactly what was happening—and she wanted it.
She wanted him to kiss her, and while that realization should have terrified her, it didn’t.
Instead, Harlow stepped closer, and Wade immediately released her hand. The rejection stung.
She stepped back. “Sorry.” Her cheeks burned. “I misread—”
“You didn't,” he growled. She looked up at him again. Wade's jaw was clenched.
“Then why did you release me?” she asked.
“Because yesterday you were supposed to marry another man,” he reminded.
“I didn't want to marry him,” she insisted.
“I know,” he breathed.
“I didn't love Frank,” she said.
“I know that too,” he insisted.
“Then what's the problem?” she asked.
Wade stared at her for a long moment. “You're scared.”
“Not of you,” she said.
“You should be a little bit scared of me, Harlow,” he said. She rolled her eyes at him. “I'm serious.”
“So am I,” she said. He stepped closer, and Harlow's breath caught. Wade lifted his hand but stopped before touching her.
“Everything in your life got blown to hell less than twenty-four hours ago,” he whispered.
“So what?” she asked.
“So I'm not taking advantage of you or this situation,” he insisted.
“You wouldn't be,” she breathed.
“You don't know that,” he countered.
“I know what I want,” she insisted.
“For the first time in your life, maybe.” The words landed like a slap to her face, and Harlow stepped back from him. Wade cursed. “That came out wrong.”
“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It's true.”
“Harlow,” he whispered.
“I spent my whole life doing what everyone else wanted me to do,” she said.
“Exactly.” He moved closer again, and she didn’t back down. “So figure out what you want when you're not scared, exhausted, and dependent on me.”
She stared at him. “And if I still want you?” Wade went very still. Harlow couldn't believe she'd said it, but she refused to take it back.
His eyes darkened. “If you still want me when this shit settles down—” He leaned closer but was still careful not to touch her. His mouth hovered near her ear, making her shiver. “You won't have to ask twice.” Heat rushed through her entire body, and Wade stepped back from her. The bastard.
Harlow stared at him. “You did that on purpose.”
“Yep,” he admitted.
“You're horrible,” she insisted.
“Been told.” She shoved his chest, and he laughed.
For the first time since she'd run from her wedding, Harlow realized something.
She had a job, she had somewhere safe to sleep, and she had people willing to help her.
None of it belonged to her father, and none of it had been chosen by Frank.
She'd chosen it. She'd chosen Wade's Watering Hole, and she'd chosen to help the Savage Bastards.
And maybe, eventually, she'd choose Wade too, but this time, the choice would belong entirely to her.
Harlow had officially been employed at Wade’s Watering Hole for three hours, and she already decided Wade was terrible at running a business. Not the bar itself. The bar ran surprisingly well. His record keeping, however, was a fucking disaster.
She sat on the stool behind the small desk in Wade’s office, staring at three months’ worth of receipts stuffed inside an old cigar box—an actual cigar box. “You cannot be serious.”
Wade glanced up from where he was leaning against the doorway. “What can’t I be serious about?” he asked.
She held up the box. “This.”
“What about it?” he questioned.
“This is your bookkeeping system?” she asked.
“It works for me,” he said.
“No, Wade. It absolutely does not work,” she insisted.
“Been working for eight years,” he defended.
“I'm surprised the IRS hasn't kicked down your door,” she said.
“They've got to find me first,” he mumbled under his breath.
Harlow slowly lowered the receipt she'd been holding. “Please tell me you're joking.” His mouth twitched. “Jesus Christ.” She dropped the receipt onto the desk, and Wade laughed. The bastard enjoyed messing with her far too much.