Chapter 15
STONE
Harlow looks good in my button-down shirt, with nothing else on except her panties underneath.
My shirt drowns her slightly, but it doesn’t matter, as her knees are pulled up where she’s leaning back against my sofa.
She’s got my laptop, with her facial expressions changing occasionally.
She’s reading the early copy of my book that my editor sent over a few days ago.
We’ve taken it easy today. Grabbing breakfast at Jolly Joe’s, hitting up the pool and jacuzzi at the Dizzy Duck, followed by stopping at the store for some groceries so we can just stay home for dinner and drink wine with the fireplace on.
“I’m not a museum exhibit. Stop watching me.” Her toes dig into my side, attempting to create distance.
“Sorry. I’m trying to come up with a plan to unbutton that shirt with just my teeth.”
She shakes her head, entertained, and ignores me as she snaps the laptop closed and sets it on the coffee table. “I’m not into sports fiction, but this is good. At first, it seems dramatic, but then it feels like character development.”
Ah, she must be referring to the fact that my hockey player has a conscience and leaves his immoral coach and returns to vineyard belonging to his father, a veteran, when he loses faith in the sport.
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not too soft, considering this caters to the male demographic? I mean, the ending.” My main character, despite receiving major sports offers, decides to live a quiet life on his dad’s vineyard to help, since his family sacrificed so much.
“Not at all,” she says with sincerity, then a smirk curves up her lips. “All you need to do is add the ending where he’s in town picking up supplies and catches the eye of the bakery owner, then women will flock to your book.”
I shake my head, appreciative of her lightness. “It’s not my best.”
“Maybe you need a break from writing for a while. Writer’s block is a real thing. Plus, straightforward fiction doesn’t always have the same structure as romance.”
“Right, no ridiculous tropes.” Not entirely true, I can think of three when it comes to Harlow and me.
She swats me. “I’ll prove you wrong.”
“Okay.” I straighten my posture and wait for her explanation.
Harlow counts on her fingers. “We’ve already discussed small town, enemies to lovers, accidental pregnancy, secret baby, second chance… instant attraction.” She nibbles her bottom lip.
“You mean us?” Because I agree.
She scoots closer to me. “Uh-huh.”
“Alpha male? Yep, unlike you who is slacking in their hockey research, I did mine in the romance genre.”
Harlow giggles under her breath. “I could agree with that, but I consider that a character trait. We are traditional and doing the whole pen pal, long-distance thing.” Another one of her fingers flies up. “Hmm, I think we can end this conversation, as it’s cheesy as hell.”
My eyes widen. “See? You don’t actually believe in what you write.”
She rolls her eyes. “I do, I just… never mind.”
“One day, you’re going to have to explain yourself.” I pretend to give her a stern voice.
She blows out a breath, and our eyes hold for a beat before she gently tugs on my sweater. “What’s on the agenda tomorrow? We can attempt to walk in this cold.”
“Hell no. I may be from colder climates, but that windchill factor is brutal. I do have an idea, though.”
“Oh?”
“It’s no big deal or anything. Casual, even. But we can head to my brother’s for brunch tomorrow.” Harlow seems taken aback. “Really, it’s not a big thing. They always burn toaster waffles, and the baby normally makes a mess at some point. Nothing fancy,” I assure her.
Her mouth opens as she seems to be evaluating what to say, but she catches me off guard. “Hmm, okay,” she answers, near bubbly.
My head and neck straighten, like a goose, at her answer. “Alright then, I’ll let them know. And really, totally chill. Bringing-a-friend kind of thing.”
She laughs before she gets up off the sofa to head toward my kitchen. “Friend kind of thing. Something tells me your brother knows that you’re sleeping with said friend.”
I follow her, with the orange glow of the fireplace highlighting our faces. “True. We’re close like that.”
Harlow grabs the wine bottle from the counter. “It’s obvious. I’m that way with Flo. We see through each other. Then again, we’ve known one another for years.”
“That’s good. Friends are essential for life too.” I slide over our wine glasses that are sitting on the counter, empty from our last round, and she pours the red liquid into the glass.
“Good wine, right?”
Her face blazes in agreement before she circles the bottle to study the label. “Blisswood. Hmm, didn’t know Illinois produces wine.”
“Not much, but there are a few vineyards, mostly all family owned. The Blisswood brothers have family here in Lake Spark.”
“Nice.”
I pull Harlow to me by the waist, as we both have our wine glasses in hand. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too. Uhm… how often do we plan on doing this back-and-forth thing? Hate to burst the bubble, but well… I should probably point out this tiny detail.”
I glance away, hating the ping in my stomach that feels uneasy. “Until it fizzles out?” But I don’t believe it ever will.
“Right,” she barely whispers before she sips her wine. I can’t for the life of me figure out if she was expecting that answer.
“And if it doesn’t…” I’m throwing this discussion back in her corner.
I notice that Harlow takes a long exhale. “We may be doomed.” It sounds painful but true.
“There must be a way around it.”
She chortles. “Are we serious? Isn’t this the conversation that couples have when they are contemplating marriage or something?”
“Again, you’re the romance writer. What would your fictional characters do?” My tone is mundane, because as ridiculous as it sounds, it’s completely true.
Harlow throws me a near glare. “We aren’t fictional.” She holds her palm up. “Okay, you made your point. What I write is completely unrealistic. I’m not a believer.” The sound of the glass hitting the counter confirms that she’s frustrated.
I whistle out a long sound because I’ve been proven right, yet hate it all the same.
“Let’s not get too worked up about this.
We can just focus on enjoying our time together.
” I follow her to the middle of my living room and grab the back of my shirt to force her to turn to me.
I hook my finger under her chin to tip her face up to meet my gaze, ensuring she has no escape.
“Relax, Harlow, let me just kiss you right now.”
The moment I end the sentence, she’s up on her toes to ensure our mouths press together even faster.
I hope we’re not caught in quicksand together.
But in this moment, we will let any worry leave us so we can end up a tangled mess on my living room floor.
“I thought you said this would be casual?” Harlow mumbles to me.
We arrived at Vaughn’s big and freshly furnished house that bought a few months back, let ourselves in, and headed straight to the kitchen where Isla was busy making a pot of coffee and Vaughn was swaying my niece on his hip as he grabbed a piece of cut-up melon from the patterned display of fruit on a tray.
Which is right next to the box of fresh croissants and donuts, not to mention a plate of eggs that look edible, and bacon and veggie bacon that seems to be the right texture to actually eat.
Don’t get me started on the mimosas that have been poured into flutes.
“It normally is casual,” I grit out to Harlow under my breath.
We both throw on overdone smiles.
“Welcome.” Vaughn walks straight to us. “Nice to meet you.” He waves my niece’s little arm. “This is Nora.” Damn it, the cute little baby with chubby cheeks is calming my desire to kill my brother.
“Hi.” Isla waves from the kitchen. “I’ll join you guys in a sec. We have these new specialty teas, so I want to boil some water.” Really? I mentioned once that Harlow doesn’t drink coffee, and here we go with an all-out effort to impress.
Harlow side-eyes me, confirming our suspicions that this is no casual brunch. Still, my girl stays strong. “Hi, everyone.”
“Make yourself at home.” My brother hands me my niece to hold, and I notice Harlow cock her head to the side, trying to decide if I’m melting her soul, because I can’t lie, I’m aware that I look good holding a baby.
I lean to the side. “Do you mind if I go have a moment with my brother?”
Harlow looks between me and my brother who has plastered a cheeky smile on his face. “Oh yeah, totally. I’ll see if I can help Isla.” Her eyes are slightly bold with humor.
“Shall we go check out Nora’s new toys? Yeah, we’re going to do that,” I inform him.
Vaughn is still entertained as he follows me to the other side of the living room in the open floorplan. “What’s up?” he asks, acting casual.
“What the hell happened to having a normal brunch, at which we normally eat and you and Isla look like a trainwreck because of a teething baby?” I glance down at Nora whose little fingers are clawing my shirt.
“Simmer down. You’re holding precious goods.”
My eyes give him a pointed look. “Yeah, so I can’t murder you for making this a big deal.”
Vaughn sighs. “Excuse me for wanting to make an effort.”
“By adding more fuel to the fire by putting pressure on defining Harlow and me?” My voice squeaks out.
He smiles tightly. “That’s a good thing. Now you can check meeting the family off the list of relationship etiquette.”
“Or just bringing on more confusion.”
He pats my shoulder. “Trust me. You’ll thank me.”
I blow out a breath to calm myself down. There is no escape from this house at the moment. “Let’s just get through this brunch.”
Vaughn raises a shoulder toward his ear. “At least we have some damn good food. Having my brother stuck in a romantic cloud brings out the best of Isla and me… we made an effort in the kitchen.”