by Casey Hagen
Harlow rushed Ashton right to the bathroom so she could shower, leaving the guys in the living room with Kevin.
“So, Kevin, I take it you owed the two-hundred-thou to Sal “Tiger Eye” Moretti,” Evan said.
“How did you know?”
“I’m the great and powerful Oz,” Evan said deadpan, his arms crossed. “Everyone there at the warehouse tonight is accounted for, and within the next hour will be heading to jail or to the morgue. The details will come out. You might as well spill.”
Kevin shot him a glare and rubbed at his neck. “I got in over my head. The race was supposed to be a sure thing.”
“And all the other times? Every time you took money from Harlow, not worrying about how she would put food on the table or pay the bills, were those debts you owed to Moretti, too?” Dylan said.
“Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and judging me? You’ve—”
Dylan crossed the room in three steps and curled his fists into Kevin’s collar, lifting him onto his toes. The sound of his shirt strangling him sent satisfaction shooting through Dylan’s veins. “I’m Ashton’s father, you piece of shit, and if you ever put Ashton or Harlow in danger again, I’ll stop your fucking heart. Understood?”
Kevin’s eyes widened and he gave Dylan a hard shake of his head.
Dylan lowered him to the floor and brushed his shirt back into place. “Good, glad we understand each other.”
“What’s going on?” Harlow asked from the doorway to the hall.
“Nothing, just gathering information for the authorities,” Evan said with a smile. “By the way, Dylan…the money came in. Looks like you get to invest it back now.”
Dylan grunted. He didn’t give a shit about the money. As far as he was concerned, it was to be used for Ashton.
Harlow marched up to Kevin and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad you’re okay. But, dammit, Kevin, this has to stop.” She pulled away and took a step back. “It has to stop or you won’t be allowed in our lives anymore.”
“I didn’t mean—” Kevin began.
She stomped her foot and her hands curled into fists as frustration broke free. “You could have gotten my daughter killed. Do you get that?”
“I get it, Harlow. Jesus. Do you have to be so drama—” Kevin’s gaze met Dylan’s, and whatever else he had planned to say died on his lips.
Good.
“If you’re serious about getting it, we’ve got a list of rehabs for you to get over the gambling addiction. You’d have to take a leave from work, but it would get you out of town for a while, give you a new environment,” Cole said.
“I can’t just up and leave town. I’ve got a job,” Kevin scoffed.
“Take vacation time. Take short term disability. If they won’t accept it, I’d be happy to temporarily disa—”
“Dylan!” Harlow yelped.
“Sorry,” he muttered while his friends snickered in the background.
“Mom?” Ashton asked from the end of the hall.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m on my way back in now,” Harlow said.
“I think that’s our cue to get out of here and let the family get settled,” Abe said. He threw his arm around Kevin. “We’ll give you a ride… and we’ll give you that list. My advice? Start getting things in order to take the time to straighten out your shit. If for no other reason than it’s what’s good for your family.”
“Where are you guys headed tonight?” Dylan asked.
“We snagged a few rooms at the Hyatt,” Wolf said.
“Pricey,” Dylan said.
“Yeah, but then, it’s on your dime,” Wolf said with a grin, holding the door for the guys as they spilled out.
Dylan laughed. “Meet me in the morning at my office around ten?”
“We’ll be there,” Wolf said before ducking out the door.
The silence they left behind deafened. Dylan closed his eyes and exhaled before turning to face his daughter. She stood there, a couple inches shy of Harlow’s height, tucked under her mother’s shoulder.
“You’re my father, aren’t you?” Ashton asked.
“I am,” Dylan said quietly.
“Ashton, honey, I have to clear a few things up about your dad,” Harlow said.
“He’s just what you said he was, Mom.”
“Honey, I wasn’t honest.”
“What weren’t you honest about? You said that he wanted to save people who couldn’t save themselves. I couldn’t save myself and he was there, Mom. I knew he would be,” Ashton said, looking up at Harlow.
“Baby,” Harlow said, smoothing a hand over her hair. “I didn’t tell him about you. I knew what he wanted to be, and he couldn’t get there if he had a young family. I’m sorry, honey. I screwed up.”
Dylan had nothing. Not one single thing he could say as he watched this bond between mother and daughter play out through admissions of guilt. Ashton astounded him with how mature and understanding she was over the situation.
He couldn’t take credit for that. It had been all Harlow. She had been an incredible mother.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m not scarred for life or anything. Not from anything you did, anyway,” Ashton said with a shrug.
“Did they hurt you?” Dylan asked quietly.
“No, at least not in the way you mean. It hurt sitting tied to a chair like that, but they didn’t hit me or touch me, you know, like that,” she muttered, her voice low with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Harlow said, kissing her forehead.
“Can I go hug my dad now?” Ashton asked, giving her mother a small smile.
Harlow nodded through her tears as Ashton slipped out of her arms and crossed the living room with confidence, her fuzzy shark slippers scraping along the wood floor.
What did he need to do? Jesus. She wanted to hug him; it was the first one. The hug she’d always remember, and he didn’t want to screw it up. Was he supposed to bend down to her height? Hug her around her shoulders? Her waist?
Where the hell was his parenting manual?
Before he could dissolve into total panic Ashton wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head against his chest, and closed her eyes.
His arms knew what to do, even if he didn’t. One wrapped around her shoulder while the other cupped her damp hair. He held her tight as tears clogged his throat, making him swallow furiously.
He kissed the top of her head, the scent of strawberry shampoo making him smile. He met Harlow’s eyes, streaming with tears, and crooked a finger at her.
She hesitated at first, but Ashton loosened her grip and reached an arm out as though she wanted the same thing and, before he knew it, the three of them stood there in a warm embrace.
His family.
Chapter 9
Harlow lay in her daughter’s bed, blinking up at the sunshine filtering through the gauzy lavender curtains.
She glanced over at Ashton, sound asleep, buried under a pile of blankets and wrapped around her body pillow. She stared at the rise and fall of her back as she breathed, deep and even.
She’d never take a moment like this for granted again. She’d take the opportunity to relish the fact that her daughter was alive, safe, and happy.
Right now, if the girl asked her for a car, Harlow was so grateful she might actually buy it—even though her daughter couldn’t drive it for a couple years.
The telltale sounds of Dylan trying to find her dishes reached her ears with the frequent opening and closing of cabinets.
She smiled. Poor guy didn’t know what to do with himself, and who could blame him? In less than forty-eight hours they went from being out of each other’s lives to instant family.
She crawled out of the bed and padded her way to the kitchen. Leaning against the door frame, she took a minute to soak him in.
Gray sweatpants rode low on his lean hips. The soft fabric hugged his ass just enough to fuel flashes of the naked, flexing muscles of his fantastic butt from the night before
. It had been the first thing she noticed about him on the beach fifteen years earlier.
But now, commanding just as much attention, hell, maybe even more, were the broad shoulders and wide back layered with muscles. She preferred to worship his tan and the ridges rising from his spine with his shirt off, but even covered with the tank top she still had a hell of a view of his carved biceps with their muscles flexing and bunching as he moved.
He’d found the frying pans, had laid two on the burners, and stood at the counter cracking eggs into a glass bowl. A pound of bacon lay on the counter beside him.
She’d love to go on staring, but the mom in her couldn’t watch someone work without offering to assist. “Need some help?”
His head whipped around and he grinned. “Sure. Where’s Ashton?”
“She’s still sleeping,” Harlow said. She flicked on the burner, then sidled up right next to him. She grabbed a knife from the magnetic strip on the wall and sliced open the bacon.
“She’s incredibly intuitive,” Dylan murmured next to her, keeping his gaze fixed on his task.
“She always has been. She’s good at reading people,” Harlow said over the sizzle of bacon as it hit the pan. She tore off several paper towels and lined a plate.
He poured heavy cream into the eggs and a couple handfuls of shredded cheese. “So, how does she feel about your brother?”
Of course, he had to go there. She slapped the tongs down on the counter and turned on him. “Don’t use her to prove a point about him, Dylan. I won’t have it.”
He crossed his arms and cocked his hip against the counter. His eyebrows snapped low over those warm brown eyes of his and his mouth formed into a thin, hard line. “I’m not using her. But right now, I’d trust her senses about him over yours. You’re too close. He’s your baby brother and you feel responsible for him.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Harlow snapped.
“Am I wrong?”
She hated this. Her daughter was home. She was safe. And here they were, sniping at each other about her brother.
And Dylan was spot-on.
“Yes, I feel protective of him, but not at the expense of Ashton. And I resent the accusation. Is this how it will be if we pursue this relationship? You riding me about my brother and my constantly being in the middle?”’
“What do you mean, if? I thought we talked about this and agreed.”
“We did, but that was before you started throwing Kevin in my face. You don’t like him. I get it. But I love him. He’s my family and I won’t abandon him. Not like—”
“Like?”
“Never mind,” she muttered.
“Oh, no. No retreating. Like I abandoned you? Is that what you were going to say?”
“Well, yes, but it wasn’t like that, whether it felt like it at times or not.”
“You’re goddamned right it wasn’t,” he whispered harshly.
“Look, it wasn’t a knock against you. It’s just… I don’t know, I didn’t feel like I could go to you. You had plans, and I wasn’t part of that. Do you think, had it been you, would you have reached out to me?”
“You were only gone for a year,” he said.
“Yes, and I knew you had at least two and a half to become a SEAL… and you’d still have to work your way up from there. If I had been gone for at least the same amount of time as you, though, and you knew it was my dream, my one goal, could you have done it?”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly. I think you would have wanted me to have my dream,” she said.
“You’re probably right,” he conceded.
The phone rang, making them both jump. “I have to get that,” she said.
“Do what you have to do,” he said, turning his back on her and whipping the eggs.
She lifted the retro-red phone off the wall, wishing she had the cordless in here so she could take the call in another room. Instead, she stood there, trapped by the antiquated cord. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetheart,” her mother’s shrill voice said over the line.
Harlow hadn’t even had coffee yet. Her first argument of the day… check. But no coffee. Her gaze flickered to the carafe.
Dylan had made a fresh pot.
Of course, he did. He was damned near perfect. Irritatingly perfect.
He’d turned her inside out in the bedroom. He commanded her kitchen with confidence. He’d twisted up her heart again and claimed it, leaving her no defense. Well, other than the family loyalty she continually touted.
She had to wonder why she kept doing that. It’s not like he wasn’t right about her brother. Was she constantly throwing it up as a roadblock to avoid the next step for them?
Why would she do that?
“Hi, Mom. How are you and Daddy?”
“We’re wonderful, but then, you’ll see that for yourself today,” her mother said.
She’d what?
Oh, God.
She leapt for the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge. The cord tangled around her torso, making her fight to keep her balance.
Then she stubbed her toe. “Ouch, shit!”
“Hey, language,” her mother admonished.
“Sorry,” Harlow muttered, searching the calendar.
“You didn’t forget, did you? It’s the third anniversary of your dad’s bypass, sweetheart. How could you forget?”
She didn’t so much as forget as she forgot what day it was. Kind of hard to keep track when your daughter was kidnapped.
“I didn’t forget, Mom. I just woke up. I’m still out of it. We’ll be there.”
Dylan cast her a glance, his eyebrow raised in question.
“Do you mind if I bring a guest?” Harlow asked. Now that he’d returned to their lives, if in no other capacity than as Ashton’s dad, he needed to meet her parents.
“A guest? Of course not… anyone I should know about?” her mother asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Oh, you’ll know plenty soon enough, so, no prying. We’ll see you this afternoon,” Harlow said.
She hung up the phone and turned to Dylan. Ashton stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.
“You forgot about Grandma and Grandpa’s, didn’t you?” she asked.
Harlow nodded. “I did. But don’t worry, I covered and we’re going.”
“Dad, are you coming?” Ashton asked.
Dylan jolted, the bowl slipping from his hands as he whisked the eggs, and Harlow fought a laugh. Poor guy still didn’t know what to do with himself.
But she only had so many good thoughts—she’d only be willing to forgive so many times before it was all just too much. She feared she had reached the brink of that precipice. If Kevin hadn’t already gone to rehab, which she highly doubted, he’d be at the party. The party might well be what made him hold off on entering, since they’d hidden his issues from their parents. She’d see him, talk to him, and know for sure how she felt then.
He’d better tell her he’d spent the morning making the arrangements necessary to check in.
Dylan froze, the whipped eggs tipped, hovering over the hot pan. “Uh, I don’t know if your mom is ready for me to—”
“He’s coming, baby,” Harlow said. She scooped out the first round of bacon to drain and laid in the next.
“I am?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “I need to come clean with my family and you should be there.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Ashton asked, pushing away from the door and making her way to the fridge. She poured a glass of orange juice and headed for the little table.
“Smart-mouth,” Harlow said with a smile. God, it was great to have her little girl back.
Dylan stirred the eggs in the pan between stolen glances at his daughter. He shook salt and pepper onto the eggs and gave them one last stir. He looked good in her little kitchen.
Right.
But if they stayed together, gave it a go as a couple, what if he di
dn’t want to live here?
She cast a glance at Ashton sitting in her favorite spot at the table, the sunlight spilling in, bringing out the gentle highlights in her wavy locks. In that moment, Dylan crossed over to her, a plate in one hand, the pan of eggs in the other. The light hit his hair, and damned if the shade wasn’t exact.
She was all her father.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving, thanks,” Ashton said, smiling up to him.
He filled her plate with eggs, making her laugh. “What’s so funny?” he asked, glancing around and blinking rapidly.
“I’m not a six-and-a-half-foot-tall football player. Where do you think I’m going to put all those eggs?” she said with a laugh.
“Oh, sorry. I’m new at this,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, I see that. It’s okay. Think I can have some bacon?” she asked.
“Sure.” He brought the platter to her, but this time held it out and let her take what she wanted.
Harlow smiled at the two loves of her life. They were figuring it out.
“Will you have breakfast with me?” Ashton asked.
“I’d like that,” he said, grabbing two more plates. “You hungry, Harlow?”
“Very. Thank you,” she said, joining them at the table.
They heaped their plates with eggs and bacon. Harlow grabbed the carafe, mugs, creamer, and sugar for her and Dylan.
“So, what are you going to tell Grandma and Grandpa about Dad?” Ashton asked around a bite of eggs.
“The truth. It’s time, don’t you think?” Harlow said.
“What is the truth? I mean, I know what you told me, but were you guys boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Oooh, um, yeah, Harlow?” Dylan said before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Chicken,” she muttered, giving him a quick glance from under her lashes as she pushed around the eggs on her plate.
“You got that right,” he agreed.
“Well, honey,” Harlow said, laying her hand on Ashton’s arm. “I—uh—well, your father and I, we—”
“You—” Ashton said, drawing out the word.
“Well, we met one night and there was this bonfire, and…we, I—” Harlow stammered.
