Chapter Sixteen #3
“Having some kind of air cushion between you and the floor so no one can hear you. I’d think it was special shoes, but you do it even when you’re barefoot.”
Wilder laughed and slid off the bed. “Let’s get something to eat and sit outside in the swing.” He held out his hand to her.
Harlow particularly loved her porch and the swing, so she readily allowed him to pull her out of the bed. “Give me a minute to put on something warm.”
He sent her a quick grin. “I’ll keep you warm.”
She waved her fingers at him as if shooing him away. “You’d better get something warm on. Nights are cold, and you always run around without a shirt.”
“Impressing you.”
Deliberately, she rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you have to suffer in the cold in order to impress me. I like a man with brains enough not to freeze.”
“It just so happens that I run hot.”
His smirk was endearing. Boyish. He seemed to be able to melt her heart so easily.
She found herself laughing. Happy. She wasn’t even certain why when they’d just been discussing such a serious subject.
When someone she knew had been killed, most likely murdered.
It made no sense at all that she would feel so happy just looking at Wilder.
Just seeing that smirk. Those eyes that always seem to be so intently watching her with such love.
Love. That was it. She never thought she would have that for herself.
She never thought it was possible for a man to know her.
To see her. To fall in love with the real Harlow Frye, failings and all.
Wilder was extraordinary. He always gave her the feeling of being respected, even admired.
He surrounded her with comfort and safety.
She didn’t know how it had happened, but she was determined to make it work.
But…she had to address certain things that bothered her.
She couldn’t just pretend to accept things she didn’t like.
Once she started hiding the truth from him for fear of losing him, she knew she had already lost. She had to be honest with him.
She went out onto the porch, Misha trailing behind her. Her little beagle was used to Harlow’s often sleepless nights, and, as usual, she made her way to the warmth of the circular dog bed sitting very close to the swing where Harlow curled up.
Harlow scratched Misha’s head between her ears, murmuring softly to her. “You’re such a good girl, Misha. You never complain when I come out here, and you’re not in the least bit interested in whether or not we can see the stars. You just want to sleep.”
Misha yawned and closed her eyes, not once looking up at the sky overhead.
It was a crisp, cool night, with every star vying for attention.
The night sky was just one of the many things Harlow loved.
The positioning of her home and the wide wraparound porch afforded her a stunning view of the stars.
Even when it was raining, the view was magnificent.
The drops would appear as silver streaks falling from above, creating a misty veil with the mountains as a backdrop.
The view from her porch gave her a sense of serenity, of peace.
She knew Wilder was beginning to feel the same way.
He had a habit of checking all the security cameras and walking around the house before settling on the porch swing with her, but when he was there, she felt the tension ease right out of him.
He came out of the house, placed a mug of hot chocolate on the little end table, dropped a kiss on top of her head, gave Misha a pat and stepped off the porch to execute his usual security measures.
Harlow dropped into the swing and took a sip of the chocolate.
Wilder always added whipped cream when he made her chocolate late at night, which she loved but often avoided because of the extra calories.
She didn’t know why, when he topped off her chocolate with whipped cream, she felt loved and cared for, but she did.
It didn’t take Wilder long to complete his security check.
He took the seat beside her, and she handed him the mug of chocolate.
He never made a drink for himself, but sometimes he’d take a sip or two from hers.
She noticed if she offered, he always took her up on it, and his eyes would light up.
Those strangely colored, almost crystal light green eyes that could appear silver at times.
She loved his eyes and the intensity in them when his gaze settled on her.
“Something’s bothering you, mon rêve. Share, please.”
Harlow felt her stomach muscles knot. She knew she had to broach the subject with him.
She didn’t want to be one of those women who said they loved a man and then insisted that man change.
She loved Wilder. He’d been very up front with her about who and what he was. But she also had to be true to herself.
As if he was reading her discomfort—and he most likely was—Wilder slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him until she was nestled against his ribs and thigh. He reached for the blanket he’d brought out and tucked that around the two of them, building a cocoon for them.
“You’re safe, Harlow. You can tell me anything.”
She wasn’t as certain as he was. She’d held back her opinions for years, mainly because she’d learned that anything she said to her parents, teachers, or their security, could cause her to suffer major consequences.
In this case, she feared she would lose Wilder.
That was a huge consequence. On the other hand, she didn’t want to live in fear of that loss.
Or find herself silent when she wanted to speak up.
She didn’t want to be that woman either, one totally losing herself in order to keep a man.
“Babe.” Wilder’s voice was gentler than ever. His fingers found the nape of her neck and began that slow massage he did to help ease the tension from her. “You’re safe with me.”
She wanted to believe that. And she absolutely had to be true to herself. She was never going to compromise who she really was and be happy.
“I haven’t quite come up with the right approach,” she admitted.
“I appreciate you trying to be thoughtful of my reactions to your opinions, sweetheart, but it isn’t necessary to soften any blow.
I can take it. In fact, the truth is, I’ve learned to set aside emotion and depend on logic in most situations.
You’re important to me. How you think and what you’re feeling is important to me.
If something is bothering you to this extent, especially if I’m the cause, I not only want to know what it is, I need to know. ”
How could she not love him? He accepted her, seemed to love her unconditionally. She wanted to accept him the same way, with unconditional love. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t…but…
She took a deep breath and forced herself to make the confession. “I can’t condone Rainier going to Rafferty’s home to kill him. As much as I didn’t like the man, I don’t think what he did warranted killing him.”