Chapter 23
The patio at Rocky Mountain Flatbread is quieter than usual, just a handful of locals and tourists lured in by the scent of wood-fired pizza and the sweep of glacier peaks beyond town.
I lean back in my chair, one arm hooked over the backrest, the other resting near the sweating root beer on the table. The sun warms my shoulders, but it doesn’t settle the restless hum under my skin as I wait for Harlow.
I haven’t seen her since her sister showed up a complete fucking wreck.
Usually, I can keep myself busy—find something to do, maybe run a few miles—but the last two days I’ve been pacing my apartment like a caged animal, trying not to think about her.
Now I’m heading into a five-day rotation, and all I want is to see her. Share a meal. Steal a few more kisses. Hell, I’d really like another night like the last one, but I’ll settle for whatever I can get.
As if summoned by the thought, I spot her on Main Street.
She charges forward like the hottest goddamn tornado this town’s ever seen.
Heels clicking against the pavement, phone pressed to her ear, her free hand cutting through the air in sharp, impatient arcs.
By the time she reaches the patio, it’s clear she’s in the middle of a battle.
“Yes, I know, Mother,” she snaps. “But maybe if you supported your daughter instead of trying to manage her, she’d actually want to talk to you.”
That protective fire in her voice sends a surge of pride through my chest. She always comes out swinging when it matters, and I admire the hell out of her for it.
Her gaze flicks to mine, eyes rolling at whatever her mom says next.
My mouth curves at the acknowledgement.
“Look, I can’t do this right now, Mom. I have a meeting. I’ll call you later.”
She ends the call with a sharp click and tosses the phone into her bag. The second her eyes find mine, the fight drains from her shoulders, her mouth softening into a curve. For a moment, the world narrows to just us.
“Hey,” she breathes.
“Hey, Goldilocks.”
She leans down for a kiss, and I don’t hold back. My arm slides around her waist, the other curling behind her neck as I tug her into my lap.
She laughs against my mouth, sliding her arms around my neck as I kiss her like a man starved—because that’s exactly what I am.
It’s deep, slow, and unapologetic. I don’t give a damn who’s watching. I want the whole town to know she’s mine.
By the time I pull back, her eyes are dazed, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen.
“God, you have no idea how much I needed that,” she murmurs, resting her forehead against mine.
My hand slides to her cheek, thumb stroking her skin. “Tough morning?”
She scoffs, the sound tired. “Try tough two days.”
I’m about to press further when the door swings open and Judy walks out—owner, waitress, and self-appointed mother hen of this place. She carries two ice waters and a notepad she never actually writes on.
“Well, well, well…look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” she teases, aiming a smile at Harlow. “You two lovebirds need a room, or should I just bring out a blanket and call it a day?”
Harlow pushes off my lap with a laugh and settles into the chair across from me. “Hey, Judy. How’ve you been?”
“I’m good, honey. Surprised you haven’t run off with this one yet,” she says, jutting her thumb in my direction.
Harlow turns that sexy smile on me. “Well, you know. Gotta keep him on his toes.”
She does a hell of a lot more than that—my constant hard-on is proof.
Judy chuckles, scribbling something onto her pad. “All right, what can I get you two?”
I tip my chin toward Harlow, gesturing for her to be first.
“Antipasto salad and a ginger ale,” she says easily, not bothering with the menu.
Judy’s gaze slides my way.
“Meat lovers, extra crispy.”
“Got it.” She collects the menus then walks away, muttering something about young love and hormones.
Once she disappears inside, Harlow eases back into her chair and tips her face to the sun.
Warm light spills over her, gilding her skin, and for a moment it steals the air from my lungs.
That’s when I see it—the faint glint at her throat.
A silver chain, delicate against her skin, the glass orb I gave her catching the light just above the curve of her breasts.
“Nice necklace.” The comment is meant to be easy, but the words slip out rougher than I intend.
She glances down like she’d forgotten it was there, fingers brushing the charm. “Thanks. This really hot firefighter gave it to me.”
My mouth kicks up with arrogance. “He sounds like a keeper.”
I expect her usual smartass comeback, because that’s what she always does when things get too real, but she surprises me.
“I think he is…”
The softness behind those words, the way she looks at me as she says them…makes me want to haul her into my truck and have my way with her. Somehow, I manage to keep my ass in this chair.
“How’s Hattie?” I ask, shifting gears before I do something stupid.
“She’s…okay. Not crying every five seconds, so that’s progress.” She shrugs. “She’s been calling lawyers, looking for places to rent, dodging calls from my mom and Finch. Hence the phone call.”
That loser’s name has my fists tightening under the table. “Finchy Boy better not be calling you too.”
She tips her head, a minor twitch to her lips. “No. And even if he did, I wouldn’t answer.”
Exactly what I wanted to hear.
“She looking for places here?” I ask, taking a swig from my bottle.
Her nod is subtle. “She is.”
My gaze locks and holds. “And how do you feel about that?”
She toys with her water glass, stroking the condensation.
“Good, actually. I think Passion Falls is where she needs to be, especially right now. It’s quiet, safe…
and selfishly, I like the idea of having her close.
I want us to have a relationship again, to mend what’s been broken, and I want to be there for her and for the baby. ”
“She’s lucky to have you,” I say, meaning every damn word. “You know that, right?”
Her mouth softens into a smile. “Yes, I do. And I’m lucky to have you.”
She reaches across the table, weaving her fingers through mine like it’s second nature.
“Thank you for giving us this time together,” she adds, voice quieter. “I hated not getting to spend your days off with you.”
My grip on her hand tightens with a squeeze.
“Not gonna lie, Goldilocks. I was bored out of my fucking mind. Felt like I didn’t have a single friend.”
The laugh that explodes from her is exactly what I was aiming for, the sound filling every quiet space of me.
ease back in my chair, mouth curving. “I’m glad you two had the time together, and I hope it all works out for her.”
Her amusement fades into something softer. “Thank you. I did tell her she could stay with me as long as she needs.” The confession carries a thread of guilt. “Sadly, that means sex is restricted to the bedroom for a while.”
My cock stirs at the thought of all the places I’ve taken her. Every inch of her condo has known us—our heat, our breath, the sound of my name breaking on her lips…and still, it’s not enough.
“There’s always my place, Goldilocks.” I tip the bottle toward her, my mouth curving with the thought.
That spark flashes in her eyes, playful and wicked. “True. And your kitchen table is even bigger than mine.”
It’d be a hell of a time, but the best part would be just having her in my place more, around my shit, waiting for me when I got home, like she belongs there. “Maybe we should get you a key.” The words are out before I can stop them.
She goes still, the shift so slight most wouldn’t notice, but I do, and it lands sharper than I expected.
Not the reaction I was going for.
She aims for casual but misses by a mile. “Why would I need a key?”
I shrug. “In case you ever need to stop by and I’m not there.”
She pastes on a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. “But why would I come over if you’re not there?”
Annoyance tightens my chest, my pride bruising with every beat. “I don’t know, Harlow. Maybe you need something. Maybe you just want to be there. It was a suggestion, not a fucking proposal. If you don’t want the key, don’t take it.”
She stiffens, eyes narrowing. “I never said I didn’t want it. I asked why I’d need it.” Her hand slips from mine, the space between us cooling as she leans back with a low mutter. “Geez, sensitive much?”
The dig snaps something in me, my brows shooting up. “I’m being sensitive?”
She folds her arms, chin tipping high. “Yeah. You are.”
My palm hits the table with a solid thud. “Well, slap a fucking sticker on me and call me fragile.”
Her eyes roll, but my temper’s already burning.
“You’re the one acting like the key to my apartment is some kind of death sentence.”
Her mouth parts. “I am not!”
I grunt at the bold-faced lie.
She shakes her head, frustration cutting through her voice. “Fine. If it means that much to you, I’ll take the stupid key.”
A laugh snorts out of me before I can stop it. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
She jerks back. “What do you mean?”
“The offer’s been revoked.”
I’m being fucking ridiculous, and I know it, but I’m too pissed off to care.
“You can’t just take it back,” she sputters.
“I can. And I did. So, let’s just fucking drop it.”
She throws her hands up, a bitter laugh under her breath. “Fine.”
“Good.”
But it isn’t. Because I’m still too pissed off.
I shift forward, elbows braced hard. “Does it scare you that much?”
She angles back toward me, that attitude still intact. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” I gesture between us. “Me. You. Us. Does it terrify you that fucking much? Because if it does, then what are we even doing here?”
Her jaw ticks, shoulders wound tight. “I’m not scared. I was caught off guard, that’s all. You’re the one who said we’d take it slow, and now you’re handing me a key—what am I supposed to think?”
“Nothing.” The word snaps out. “It’s just a key, Harlow. Not a lease. Not a ring. Just a goddamn key.”
What I don’t tell her is that I’d give her every one of those things, right here, right now, if I thought she wouldn’t run.
Her voice dips, sad and uncertain. “Still…this is so new and—”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” I fire back. “We’ve known each other our whole damn lives. And I’ve loved you for all of it.”
The confession tears through the air, sharp as glass.
Her breath catches, eyes going wide.
Shit. Wrong time, wrong way.
Silence settles hard, bruising my ego further.
“Linc,” she whispers, the regret in her voice unmistakable as she reaches across the table for me.
I pull back before she can make contact, pushing to my feet.
“Wait, you’re leaving? We haven’t even gotten our lunch yet.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not hungry anymore.” I throw some bills down, my chest a war-zone. “I’ll call you later.”
Then I get the hell out before I make an even bigger fool of myself. Every step tears me open, my chest shredding under the weight of what I’ve left behind—her, and the best parts of me still bleeding out in that empty chair.