Chapter 4 Harrison
The air inside Oasis was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and the low hum of bass vibrating through the floorboards, but Harrison barely noticed the noise as he stood behind the mahogany bar.
He was a man who preferred the periphery because it allowed him to maintain a steady view of every moving part in his kingdom, and tonight his gaze was fixed on Archer.
His friend sat on a leather-backed stool and looked every bit the high-powered attorney even in a casual button-down shirt.
Archer was a frequent fixture at the club whenever Cassidy was on shift, and it was a quiet, protective ritual Harrison respected deeply.
A man keeping watch over what belonged to him was something Harrison understood well.
He poured a generous glass of whiskey for himself and another for Archer, moving with the deliberate grace of someone who never felt the need to rush.
Archer took a sip of his drink and leaned back slightly, his eyes tracking Cassidy as she moved across the crowded floor with a tray of cocktails balanced easily in one hand.
There was a confidence in her movements now that had not been there just a few months ago, and it was clear to anyone paying attention that Archer’s influence had grounded her in a way she had desperately needed.
Harrison leaned his elbows on the back bar and watched the interaction with quiet interest, already imagining what a similar dynamic might look like in his own life.
The two men talked for a while about business.
A new zoning ordinance was threatening to disrupt the flow of the district, and Harrison listened carefully as Archer walked through the legal implications with the steady focus of someone who understood both the law and the politics behind it.
They were men of structure and strategy, but as the night wore on and the midnight hour approached, the conversation slowly shifted away from business.
Archer adjusted his watch and glanced over with a knowing look as he mentioned the cookout he and Cassidy were hosting that Saturday.
He talked about the brisket he had been brining for three days and the way Cassidy had been fussing over the garden, but he made a point of mentioning that the whole inner circle would be there.
Including Kelsey.
Harrison did not let his expression change, but he felt the sharp pull of interest in his chest the moment her name was spoken.
Everyone in their group knew he had taken a particular interest in the owner of Seven Stones, but they were all smart enough to give him space to move at his own pace.
Archer did not push, though he made it clear that the atmosphere would be casual and private—exactly the kind of setting that allowed a man to make a move without the watchful eyes of the public.
They spoke briefly about the restaurant, and Archer mentioned that Kelsey seemed to be working more hours than usual lately.
The comment stirred the familiar flare of protectiveness in Harrison’s chest.
He thought about the way she had looked across the bar a few nights earlier, her spine straight and rigid as though she were bracing herself against something unseen. It had been the posture of a woman who refused to bend even when the pressure was mounting.
Harrison said nothing about it aloud. He valued discretion too much to speculate about her struggles in conversation, but he made a quiet note to watch her more closely when Saturday arrived.
Archer noticed the subtle shift in his posture. Harrison knew he did, though his friend didn’t comment on it. The faint smile Archer offered suggested he understood more than he was saying.
Archer had found a kind of peace with Cassidy, and Harrison suspected his friend would like to see the same happen for him.
Eventually the lights dimmed and the last patrons filtered out of the club. Harrison shook Archer’s hand and watched him cross the room to meet Cassidy at the staff entrance, the two of them leaving together in the easy rhythm of people who had found their place beside one another.
The drive home was quiet and solitary, giving Harrison time to shed the role of club owner and return to the man who lived behind the iron gates of his estate.
He pulled into the garage and stepped into the stillness of the house, where the high ceilings and darkened halls felt less like emptiness and more like sanctuary. The silence suited him.
He moved through his evening routine with the same careful precision he brought to his business, hanging his jacket neatly in the closet and placing his watch on the velvet-lined tray beside the bed. Harrison liked order. He liked the quiet consistency of his life.
But when he stepped into the master bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, his gaze drifted to the mirror and lingered on the empty space beside him.
He stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash away the lingering scent of smoke and perfume from the club. As the steam filled the room, his thoughts drifted back to Kelsey and the way she had looked in the dim light of her restaurant.
Saturday would not be about profit margins or inventory reports.
He was not interested in discussing business with her.
What he wanted was to peel back the layers of the polished professional woman the world saw and find the little girl beneath.
He wanted to know what made her laugh when she was not performing for a room full of people. He wanted to see what she looked like when she finally allowed someone else to carry the weight she had been holding alone.
The image of the cookout formed slowly in his mind—sunlight catching in her hair, the relaxed atmosphere of Archer’s backyard, a place where her guard might finally slip.
Heat stirred low in his chest at the thought of finally having the chance to speak with her without the structure of their businesses standing between them.
Harrison was not a man who believed in half measures.
Even now he was considering how he would approach her, how he could test the boundaries of her independence without pushing her so hard that she retreated behind the walls she had clearly built for herself.
He suspected she would fight him.
He did not mind the fight.
But he could also see how tired she was, and more than anything he wanted to be the place where she finally stopped running.
When he stepped out of the shower and dried off, he pulled on a pair of dark silk lounge pants before walking back into the bedroom where moonlight spilled across the floor.
He sat on the edge of the bed and thought about the way her hand had trembled slightly when she lifted her glass at the bar. The memory stirred a fierce and possessive instinct in him, a quiet urge to take that hand and steady it.
Harrison leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling while the silence of the house settled around him.
He was a man of discipline and focus, but discipline meant little if there was no one to share the quiet moments with. And Kelsey Kincaid was the first woman in years who had truly held his attention.
He thought about the way Barrett looked at Savannah and the steady devotion that existed between them. Harrison wanted that same depth of trust, the kind of connection that allowed a woman to flourish beneath a firm but steady hand.
Every instinct he possessed told him Kelsey was that woman.
He closed his eyes and let the image of her settle in his mind as sleep slowly pulled him under.
Saturday would be his opportunity.
The cookout would give him a chance to see how much of himself she was willing to accept, and he was prepared to be patient while she decided whether she trusted him enough to step closer.
Kelsey was a woman with high standards and even higher walls, but Harrison had never been a man who backed away from a challenge.
He intended to be her Daddy.
He intended to be her protector.
And before long, she would understand exactly what it meant to be truly looked after.
The last thought that crossed his mind before sleep claimed him was the image of her sitting in the sun at Archer’s house, looking at him with the same flicker of vulnerability he had seen across the bar.
When she finally fell, he would be there to catch her.
And he would make sure she never felt small or alone again.
Saturday could not come soon enough.