Chapter 4
STONE
Throwing my pen onto my leatherbound notebook, I heave a deep sigh. This lady needs to get laid or loosen a notch somewhere to ease up. Gloria is my new enemy number one.
Who the hell makes a group write in their notebooks at a great restaurant? I’m grateful that the waiter just brought a few bottles of wine to the table to end the tyrant’s demands of stirring our thoughts.
Harlow is completely under my skin. She’s beautiful, and I judged her wrong. Doesn’t mean I can’t tease her that she’s wearing long earrings and taking a picture of her notebook next to a candle on the table.
When her head tilts to the side to offer me a subtle look that informs me that she’s content, I’m even more entranced.
“This isn’t turning out like I imagined. I mean, well, the retreat,” Harlow mentions. “I’ve been stuck with you, and if I hear the words escape or inspiration one more time from anyone, then I might just throw my laptop into that lake.” She chuckles to herself.
I grab the bottle of white wine, ready to get this evening started. “I’m not sure that would work. The lake might be too shallow to give your laptop a proper goodbye. Might want to add a few weights to the thing.”
She laughs and her face brightens. I hate how her lip gloss is a little too much. She doesn’t need it, yet it completes its goal, drawing me in to stare at her mouth.
“So, what’s good here?” She seems chipper.
“You mean your rabbit food?” Harlow throws me a playful scowl.
“I’ve heard the beet salad with goat cheese is not bad, and for the main entrée, the pumpkin cranberry loaf is in season, with this apparently mouthwatering sage-butter sauce.
I’m not much help, as I normally grab a steak for dinner…
need to fuel these guns.” I flex my biceps.
She squints her eyes. “Oh yeah? I didn’t notice that you work out.” She’s sarcastic, and that’s not something many women I’ve been around have managed to pull off.
“What was your word count today?” Jennifer attempts to make conversation from my side.
“Only 1200,” Harlow replies.
“Am I supposed to be counting?” My tone is flippant.
Jennifer grins. “You’re making this whole trip a bit more eventful, Stone. Saving us from Commander Gloria over there.” She indicates to the head of the table.
“Offer Gloria lots of wine,” Harlow suggests.
“I bet you by dessert we can get her slipping up with a few embarrassing stories from her college years. Something tells me she’s a wild one,” I mention.
“Hopefully.” Jennifer turns her attention back to Frank sitting next to her.
Harlow leans back in her chair to examine me. “Do you ever have a serious moment?”
“Trust me, I had enough to last me a lifetime,” I assure her. “Childhood, ending my hockey career, to name a few.”
She grabs her wine glass. “May I ask about your upbringing?”
I drop my head before lifting it back up because this woman somehow feels easy to talk to. “Our dad bailed, and our mom did it all on her own. She’s married now and focuses on her life in Arizona. And my sports career? Nobody wants to see something like that end early.”
“What happens in life only makes us stronger,” she remarks.
That’s the right mindset to have. “I believe that. What non-happy memories make you stronger?”
Harlow stalls for a second and then bites her bottom lip. “Uh, not drinking a good wine. We should focus on enjoying this evening.” Again, an air of mystery surrounds her.
The waiter arrives to take our order, and I hand over my menu after I tell him a Caesar salad and steak medium done. Harlow seems to have listened to my advice and orders what I suggested.
I lean to the side to speak low. “You seem like a woman who listens well.” My voice is sweltering with a desire I can’t deny.
It’s been a while since I’ve spent the night with a woman.
My bedroom style tends to be a little too dominant, and I’m not used to wanting something without diving in full force on the physical front, then I just leave it all there, I don’t need more.
With Harlow, slow seems to be my calling.
That isn’t really my character, but I can’t seem to shake that feeling.
Her face flushes to a pink that I’ve seen a few times today, as if her cheeks are burning.
She clears her throat, and her eyes dip down. “I can only imagine that’s what you like.”
My eyes bug out that her train of thought is on the same wavelength, and she has me figured out.
“Either you read me well or you’ve simply written that scenario far too many times. Actually, I know you have. I read a passage from one of your books earlier today, the one about a billionaire who needs a fake fiancée.”
Harlow’s head whips in my direction. “Oh?”
“Your imagination is by far dirtier than I could have guessed. Is it rope or handcuffs that you enjoy more?” Fuck, her scenes get me hard, and I can picture her in every single one.
She coughs from nerves. “I should feel completely uncomfortable right now. But I don’t mind admitting what I write, I have nothing to be ashamed about. I’m just not used to a man relaying what he thinks about my writing.”
I take another sip of wine. “Trust me, I skipped the parts about almost-kisses and tension-filled elevator rides. Went straight to the good stuff. However, from what I read, you have talent.”
Harlow slides her tongue across her bottom lip then settles on the corner of her mouth, trying to figure out how to reply.
“I’m kind of happy wine is present. Ah, I read the opening page of your book that you shared earlier in the workshop.
Admittedly, kind of boring, but the words flow, and I would never guess a guy who spent so many hours on the ice could create such a page.
” She holds her hand up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I’m stereotyping. ”
“Nice of you to admit that.”
Her eyes roam the room and land on the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake.
“Want to get some air?” I suggest.
Her gaze snaps to me, with her eyes agreeing. “A good idea.”
We both take our wine glasses and stand to leave the table. After we slide open the door to outside, she walks straight to the railing to soak in the view of twilight, the stars gracing us with their presence. It’s a halfmoon this evening.
Harlow wraps her arms around her body, as it’s a little chilly out.
“I always thought the moon in fall is special. It has a different hue. More profound and a warning of change in the months ahead,” I comment.
She turns to rest her back against the railing while I still look forward, leaning onto the banister. “That’s a whimsical thought.”
I lift a shoulder then sink it back down. “Maybe that’s why I moved here too. The sky is clearer and encourages a blank slate in your mind. I heard people here go a little overboard around Halloween, the pie competition gets out of hand, too.”
Harlow smiles, and the hanging lights outline her peaceful eyes locked on me. “The night can be many things, Stone. It’s good that you see it in a way that is hopeful.”
I want to stroke my thumb along her cheek and slide down to trace her bottom lip.
It’s an innate need inside of me that I choose not to act on, considering I’m sure our group is eyeing us through the window.
I don’t mind, though; it would be impossible for them to miss the connection that’s a current between Harlow and me.
“I’m happy that I came to this ruse of a retreat,” she admits. “Maybe a piece inside of me needed to break away, and it took this to do it. I’m ready to let the words flow.”
“Is it the ruse of the retreat?” I’m going to dig until she confesses that she’s feeling this aptitude to stay close to one another.
A wry smile hits her lips, and she shakes her head once side to side. “Nah, it’s the company we keep.”
“Isn’t that a movie?”
“No clue. It just sounds fitting.”
We stare at one another, getting lost in a moment that keeps occurring. “Do you think you will come back to Lake Spark?” I wonder and may even be optimistic.
Harlow shrugs. “Don’t have much reason to. Without this retreat, I never would have known this town was on the map.”
My eyes widen. “Your hockey research needs improvement then. The Spinners are kind of making waves in the league.”
“Oops. I better listen tomorrow during Gloria’s research workshop,” she quips before silence falls on us for a few ticks. “To answer your question, I kind of have a busy schedule happening the next few months. The publisher planned a few signings for me.”
“I see.” A slight disappointment flinches inside of me.
Now an awkwardness breezes into our air as we pause for a moment.
“Well, we should probably head back in. Looks like the waiter arrived with the food,” she notes.
“Probably a good idea.”
After we head inside, there seems to be a shuffle of seat assignments, and the seat next to me is now occupied by Brett, while Harlow is across the table listening to Jeff.
Still, Harlow’s eyes catch with mine for a mere second before she goes back to pretending to listen to Jeff talk about zombies or the equivalent of a snooze fest.
Maybe Harlow is placing a little distance between us. Doesn’t mean the zap of attraction lessens even the slightest. I’m afraid that it only ups the ante.
Dinner goes by slower than I hoped. It’s a welcome ending when Gloria taps her glass of sherry with a few giggles because she seems to have proven us all right that her handle on alcohol is minimal.