by Leslie North
Snickers filled the veranda, and his smile froze as he moved toward the bride-to-be.
“Can you show me how your grip your hammer?” one of the women called while another asked, “I bet he’s an ace at drilling.”
Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth but could do nothing about her shaking shoulders.
Masculine laughter filled the night, raising goose bumps on Rachel’s skin.
“You ladies are terrible.” His smile eased into one she recognized from all the times she used to see him at the bar over the years. He was about to get his flirt on.
Jealousy ripped through Rachel, and she couldn’t help but label it this time. She couldn’t help but feel like that smile belonged to her. Stupid, yes, but there it was all the same.
“We’re just getting warmed up,” Mary Jo crooned, slinking between a chaise lounge and a side table to stand next to him.
“I have no doubt.” Harris nodded as he pointedly looked at the wreck around them. “But I’m thinking this party needs to be kicked up a notch.”
WHOOPS! and drinks raised high greeted that statement.
Rachel’s hands curled into fists.
Harris put a hand to his ear and pantomimed listening to something. “Hear that? Oak Leaf Brewery is calling your names.”
All the air rushed out of Rachel and she hung her head in disgust with herself. Here she’d been about to strangle someone (Harris or the first woman who laid a finger on him), and he was craftily ushering the bachelorette party off the premises. As much as Rachel wanted to add rooms for them to crash in onto the final bill, drinking weekends tended to get out of control and cause destruction, and this one had all the earmarks of falling into that realm. Rachel had confessed her fear to him earlier, and he’d sworn he’d be close to help. And he hadn’t let her down.
“I bet Rachel can work her magic and score you all the party room complete with a full buffet dinner.” Harris winked at Rachel.
A weak-kneed flush stole over her skin and by the way his eyes narrowed, he hadn’t missed her reaction.
The women cooed and protested, but Harris continued to chip away at their arguments until he had them convinced it was their idea. The lure of alcohol and exposed, sweaty male abs was a powerful thing.
It sure is, Rachel’s girl parts chimed in, quivering at the bricks of muscle contracting with his movements.
Stop it. She forced her mind back on track. In anticipation of the need, this afternoon she had placed a reservation with the upscale brewery that had a full dining room and bar.
“I’m on it!” Rachel yelled for show, then stepped inside to arrange for transportation for the party.
Twenty minutes later, Harris had corralled the women into the dark-window-tinted, limo-bus, then headed up to the apartment to shower. She should have probably cleared some shelves off for him in the tiny bathroom since he was now living with her. A shiver rolled down her spine. The mental image of Harris’s personal items mingling with hers really brought their arrangement home.
Wheeling the cart back out to the veranda after emptying the first round of items into the kitchen, Rachel grabbed the half-demolished mini cheesecake and brownie dishes, then dropped them back onto the table.
Nausea struck so hard and so fast, she stumbled to the closest chair. The chaise lounge’s cushion puffed with her dropping onto it, but she didn’t care. Holding her head and her stomach, she groaned, furiously swallowing to keep the gorge from rising higher.
“Hey.” A warm hand lifted her hair off her sweaty neck, allowing a breeze to waft over her. Slitting her eyes, she found Harris crouched in front of her in a fresh T-shirt and shorts, and his sienna brown irises full of empathy.
She waved a hand toward the snack table and he seemed to understand her lame attempt at charades. In the next instant, her hair dropped against her skin and the sounds of dishes hitting the metal cart filled the air. Vibrations of the cart rolling toward the kitchen door rocked beneath her sandal-clad feet, then stopped when he pushed it inside.
She exhaled in relief at the lack of smells from the finger foods and alcohol. Inhaling deeply, she concentrated on the salty ocean air—
The unmistakable scent of cheese hit her nose, and she opened her eyes to find a stick of string cheese two inches from her face.
“Eat it,” Harris commanded gently. “It’ll help. I promise.”
Had he lost his mind?
With a chuckle, a chair scraped across the wood. He let go of the single seater and sat on the edge of the all-weather cushion. “I’m not crazy.” Two pink spots broke out on his cheeks and he opened the packaging. “I, um, did some research earlier and learned that protein is the best for morning sickness—er, whatever time sickness you want to call this.”
Holy wow. Could he be anymore cuter…or perfect? Taking the cheese, she reluctantly bit into it, bracing for the bite to trigger the nausea to rise all over again. But it didn’t. In fact, her stomach actually felt better once she swallowed.
“Rachel,” Harris crooned softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
She wanted to believe him, but it was hard to trust when she’d been taught that she could only count on herself.
“I want to help,” he continued. His hands hovered over her arms, then dropped away to hang between his knees from leaning on his elbows. “I’ll start by fixing everything on the inspector’s list, then I’ll do whatever I can for the baby too.”
Unexpected warmth hit her square in the chest at the same time as a healthy dose of skepticism. No one had ever cared enough to support Rachel, and she didn’t know how to process his genuine-sounding words. But oh, she wanted to believe him. It felt so good, and he’d been so wonderful about everything since the second she’d told him they were going to have a baby.
Music suddenly blared from his shorts, and Harris pulled his cellphone out of the cargo pocket. “I’ve got to take this.”
Lazily walking to the railing, he had a quick conversation that didn’t amount to many words on his side before he hung up.
Jamming his phone back into the pocket, he waltzed to stand in front of her chair. “That was the base.” His voice was distant. “The psychologist’s office has assigned me a therapist I’m required to meet with three times a week. The appointments will take me away from the B&B which I’m not happy about, but I can’t do anything to change it. As soon as they email the schedule of dates and times, I’ll give you a copy.”
His words were like an ice bucket thrown over her emotions. He’s only here temporarily. Once he cleared his psych evaluation, he’d be reactivated and sent on dangerous missions. Who knew if he’d be in town—or even in the country—when the baby was born?
Rachel crumpled the empty cheese packaging in her fist. As great as it was to have his support, she couldn’t let herself count on it. That was nothing new.
The hardening lump in her heart weighed heavily. She rubbed her chest and tried to put a positive spin on the situation. The time limit could be a good thing. A fling with her baby’s father could be an awful lot of fun for a month.
She had already agreed to use their time to learn more about each other and to figure out how they were going to handle co-parenting. His phone call was a great reminder that she couldn’t allow her heart to get involved. But, if they were going to be together, why not enjoy the still-sizzling chemistry between them? The night they shared had been epic, and she certainly wouldn’t mind a repeat…or ten. She’d just have to be careful not to let her emotional walls down. It was something to think seriously about.
Rising to her feet, she stuffed the trash into her pocket. She wasn’t expecting a permanent commitment from him. Hell, if her own mother couldn’t love her, how could she expect her one-night stand to profess undying devotion? She couldn’t, but she didn’t need him to. She’d take what he was willing to give, and stand on her own two feet when he left.
With that thought in mind, she pecked his
cheek and tapped his exquisite ass as she strode for the kitchen.
6
Harris jammed the Phillips screwdriver into his front pocket and lowered the slatted vent, then set it on the fold-out tray. Shifting his feet for better balance on the aluminum ladder stretched over the toilet, he peered up through the square opening.
Growing up, he used to follow his father around like a puppy. Every time the man had to fix something in the house, Harris used to insert himself into the repair. At first, he’d made things worse, but as he got older and understood the inner workings of things, he was able to actually help. He cherished those times with his dad, especially when the house was full of so much tension with Chance and his father at each other’s throats. His dad used to come home after long days and start on fixing whatever needed repairing. Harris would crawl out of bed and they’d work silently until the job was done and in that time, it felt like they had connected as if they’d talked for hours.
A pang of grief ripped through him, and he forced himself back into the present before he fell off the damn ladder.
Focusing on the exhaust fan, he noted the dust caked on the fan’s paddles and motor, but there was nothing that should prevent it from working properly. Probably just burned out. No biggie. He could pop over to the hardware store and pick up a new unit. It wouldn’t take more than five minutes to plug a new one in and cross this item off the checklist.
Great, you solved this mystery, but what about that peck on the cheek and butt tap?
All night, he had chewed on what those actions meant. When he woke up this morning (alone, in the second bedroom of her apartment) he was no closer to understanding than before.
Was it like “go team” or was it like “nice ass”? His ego wouldn’t mind it being “nice ass,” but did that mean she was open to further exploring their explosive chemistry? So far, he had gotten hot and cold signals from her, and it was driving him nuts.
The front door opened and the distinctive echo of high heels clattered on the foyer floor. He stilled and waited for Rachel’s unmistakable gait to squeak the hardwood flooring overhead, but it didn’t. Straining his ears, he instantly understood why. Heaving into a toilet bowl would put a damper on greeting unannounced visitors.
Climbing down the ladder, Harris exited the main floor powder room, heading toward the front desk.
Right away, he knew he was looking at Rachel’s mother. Tammy Winchester’s petite frame, nose, and eyes were a match to Rachel’s. She had on a tight, sleeveless shirt and painted on denim jeans, and where the outfit might be sexy on Rachel, on Tammy it just looked…wrong.
Tammy unfolded a piece of paper and scoured the ceiling as if it held the key to something.
“Can I help you?” he asked, stopping well short of Rachel’s mother.
Tammy squeaked, hastily folded the paper, and attempted to shove it in her back pocket, where it failed to go thanks to the tightness of her clothes. She didn’t notice the paper falling to the floor and landing next to the credenza.
“Who are you?” Tammy demanded, straightening to her full height. Her gaze zeroed in on the ends of the tools sticking out of his pockets, and she narrowed her eyes to slits. “Are you some kind of handyman? What do you think you’re fixing in this place?”
Like you didn’t sic a building inspector on the B&B. You know exactly what I’m doing here. Your innocent act is tragic.
“I demand to see Rachel.” Tammy stomped forward, but Harris refused to move. “Out of my way! Where is she?”
Harris held his ground, blocking the staircase. “I suggest you call her and schedule a visit.”
“How dare you!” Tammy flew forward and rammed into him. “You have no right to keep me from seeing my daughter!”
He spread his arms and forced her to step backwards. Either she kept moving with him or he’d run her over. “I’m going to ask you to leave now.”
“I have rights to this place too,” Tammy railed, pushing against his chest, but he balanced his weight over his feet to keep from giving her any ground. “It was given to both of us. She can’t tell me I can’t search—”
The sound of a loud regurgitation filtered down the stairs, stopping Tammy’s rant.
Shit.
A calculating gleam took over Tammy’s eyes, and Harris could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. She tracked her gaze from his head to his boots, then lifted to peer up the stairs. That calculation deepened, and a new light he wanted nothing to do with filled her irises.
“My daughter doesn’t randomly bring men home—and something tells me you don’t work for a repair company.”
“Time for you to go,” he announced, widening his arms again.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” Tammy tried to dig her heels in, but he kept pushing her toward the door.
“Like I said before.” Harris clamped onto her wrist when she tried to pivot around him. “Call your daughter later. You two can talk then.”
“Is she pregnant?” Tammy hurled at him just as he got the front door open. “Are you the father?”
He pushed her none to gently over the threshold.
“Don’t think this changes anything,” Tammy continued ranting. “I own fifty percent of this property, and that means whatever’s on this land is half mine too.”
Harris refused to react, but he really wanted to wring this woman’s neck. He wasn’t a violent man despite his profession, and he especially hated to see women hurt, but he was envisioning all kinds of ways he’d like to shake some sense into Tammy Winchester. Did she care nothing about Rachel?
“If you don’t leave.” Harris hustled her down the steps. Mental note: the new one still needs to be stained to match the porch. “I will call the police.”
Tammy stopped fighting him and huffed. With one last glare, she whirled and marched to an aging Honda Accord in the parking lot. He winced on behalf of the cement walkway taking the brunt of her anger.
Only when her taillights disappeared did he march back inside.
He stopped short. “Hey, sweetheart.” Closing the door behind him, he peered at Rachel now standing beside the powder room he’d been working in. “You feel any better? I can scrounge up some protein.”
“In a minute.” Her hips sway enticingly as she stalked forward. The predatory glint in her eyes intensified the fire constantly smoldering inside him.
He planted his feet shoulder-width apart and waited in anticipation for what she’d do next. He couldn’t take anything for granted and feared this would be another situation he thought would be hot only to turn out cold. But, damn, he hoped it would turn into an inferno. His libido was screaming for relief.
She kept coming until she plastered her body against his. Two luscious breasts molded into his chest just as her arms wound around his neck and pulled his head down. “A white knight needs to be rewarded,” she whispered against his lips, then kissed him.
Hell, fucking, yeah!
He wrapped her tight and returned her kiss a hundred fold. The second she parted her lips, he dove in and licked at the spearmint toothpaste coating her tongue. Turning her, he pressed her against the wall beside the front door, and ground his hard dick against her stomach.
She moaned and attacked him with renewed vigor—
Then a mental lightbulb clicked on. He wrenched his mouth away and stopped dry-humping her like an animal. “I’m not hurting you or the baby, am I?”
“No.” She shook her head.
He feasted his eyes on her swollen lips and heavy-lidded expression.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.”
A smile stretched those plump beauties, and she played with the hair on the back of his head. “You know,” her tone was one-hundred percent husky vixen, “you should be careful. I’ll start getting used to having you around.”
The rightness of those words settling in deep surprised the hell out of him. Don’t get carried away. He wanted to be a father to his child, and explore wha
t could happen with Rachel, but he couldn’t make a long-term commitment to her when he didn’t know what his future held. Since he lost his best friend, Shawn, he’d been struggling with whether he wanted to stay in the Marines or not. He no longer felt the calling that once drove him, but he didn’t exactly have a game plan on what he would do if he retired.
Fixing up the house and planning the nursery was making him feel like he was part of a real couple with Rachel. As if this pregnancy was planned and part of a future they had mapped out together, but the truth was, there was no map for where they were going, and he was afraid that something might go wrong.
Wasn’t his teenage years proof of that? He couldn’t hold his brothers or father together and they all loved each other. Guilt wormed its way into his heart. His dad and Chance were always at each other’s throats and despite all his attempts, they never got along. He should have been able to help his family lean on each other after their mom died. What chance did he stand of being able to build something solid with Rachel?
Realizing he’d been silent too long, he grinned and kissed along her chin. “So, I’m curious.” Kiss. Little lick. Kiss. “What else does a white knight get rewarded with?”
Humor floated into her expression and she stepped out of his hold. “A trip to the hardware store.”
He groaned theatrically, pushing his worries aside to obsess about later. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but you’re the boss.” He swept his arm wide. “Lead the way.”
7
Rachel yawned and peered through the window above the kitchen sink. Harris streaked by in a pair of gym shorts and no shirt, running on the beach near the water. The early morning sun highlighted the sweat glistening off his skin, and she salivated at the delicious picture he displayed. Day-um. She’d thought he looked amazing the other night but seeing him in the light of day was awe-inspiring.
