Shooting the Moon

by Brenda Novak

  Lauren purposely kept her arms loose around his neck; he seemed to bear her weight quite easily and she didn’t want Kimberly and Tank to see her clinging to him as they made their way across the grass. But the impulse to tighten her grip, and snuggle closer shot from her brain to her arms every few seconds.

  “I think I’ll be more comfortable in my car,” she said, twisting to catch sight of the sleek, diabolical machine parked next to her Lexus at the far end of the lot. That motorcycle was going to be the death of her. Before the picnic, Brandon had spent a full fifteen minutes begging her to let him ride on the back, “just to the park.” By the time she’d convinced him that her answer wasn’t going to change, she’d felt absolutely pummeled by his verbal onslaught. And Harley hadn’t helped much. He hadn’t interfered or tried to override her decision, but she could tell he wasn’t happy with her refusal.

  “Are you ever going to let me give you a ride?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she said, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the repercussions of a solid “no” right now. Her ankle was hurting too badly. She just wanted to get to a doctor and take some painkillers.

  And she wanted to snuggle closer….

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Since when does ‘maybe’ mean ‘yes’?”

  “It doesn’t. But it means I have a good chance at a yes.”

  “You have a better chance at a no.”

  “Come on,” he said, giving her an adorable, little-boy scowl. “Really?”

  Lauren had never wanted to ride on a motorcycle before, but the thought of clinging to Harley held a certain undeniable appeal. Maybe she’d injured more than her ankle when she fell; maybe she’d hit her head.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe means maybe. I can’t promise you anything.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his feet now crunching on the loose gravel in the lot as they wove through the parked cars.

  “Will you stop pressuring me?” she said with a groan. “You sound like Brandon. I can’t take it from both of you. Besides, you have me at a disadvantage. I’m injured.”

  “And I’m going to take care of you,” he said. “Just like I’d take care of you if you ever got on the back of my bike.”

  “That’s a completely illogical argument,” she complained. “You can’t control what other drivers on the road might do, so you can’t guarantee my safety.”

  He shifted her to get a better grip, and Lauren could tell from the perspiration on his brow and neck that hauling her such a long distance was starting to tax him. “Forget about being the Queen of Debate for a minute,” he said. “Some things aren’t logical. They’re instinctual.”

  Lauren’s instincts were telling her all kinds of things about Harley. She just didn’t know whether or not to trust them because they were telling her to trust him. “If I go for a ride with you, Brandon will never quit begging me for a turn,” she pointed out.

  “Then you and I will go some night when Brandon’s in bed. We can have Kim come over and sit with him. He’ll never even know.”

  Lauren hadn’t intended to spend any evenings alone with Harley. Limiting their contact was all part of her “distancing” plan. “Are you trying to show me it’s safe so I’ll eventually let Brandon enjoy the experience?” she asked. “Are you trying to break me down?”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with Brandon.”

  “Then why does it matter whether or not I go?”

  A look of irritation, or maybe it was disappointment, flickered across his face, but then it was gone and he shrugged as well as he could while carrying her. “Never mind. You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

  It did matter. Lauren could hear it in his voice. She just couldn’t figure out why it mattered. He had access to his son. What did he want with her?

  “Where’re the keys?” he asked when they finally reached the car.

  “They’re in my pocket. I didn’t want to worry about watching my purse while we were at the park.”

  He let her down gently, continuing to bear most of her weight, but her ankle still hurt badly enough to make her want to cry.

  “Hang on to me so you don’t fall. I’ll get them,” he said. He slipped a hand into her front pocket, which would have been fine, except her pants were snug and her pocket had worked its way over. Only a thin lining separated his fingers from a very sensitive area.

  Lauren drew in a deep breath and thought her ankle had miraculously healed. For a moment, she felt no pain, just the kind of thrill she enjoyed on a good roller-coaster. Except that a roller-coaster had never made her cheeks grow warm….

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever met a woman who blushes as easily as you do,” he said, pulling the keys out of her pocket. But he was grinning when he said it, and she wondered if he hadn’t been a little overzealous in their extraction.

  “I don’t blush easily,” she protested. “I’m probably getting a fever from my broken ankle.”

  “Feeling a little warm?”

  “Maybe.”

  His grin widened into a knowing smile. “Well, I’ve got news for you. That’s no fever.”

  HARLEY COULD TELL the pain medication was starting to kick in and finally relaxed. Lauren was going to be fine. The doctor had said her ankle wasn’t broken, just badly sprained, and had advised her to ice it, wrap it and stay off her feet for a few days.

  Owing to a car accident, several ambulances had arrived at the same time they did, and it had taken longer to get in and be seen than Harley had thought it would. They’d been at the hospital for more than three hours.

  “Who’re you calling?” Lauren asked, when he dialed Tank on his cell phone.

  “Just checking on Brandon.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “You’re a pretty devoted dad.”

  Harley smiled, liking the compliment almost as much as the response he’d gotten earlier, when he’d had his hand in her pocket, although she’d avoided eye contact with him ever since. Even now she leaned her head against the wall and glanced away as Kimberly answered Tank’s cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Kim. It’s Harley.”

  “Oh, good. We’ve been worried. How’s Lauren?”

  “She’s doing great. The doctor gave her some Vicadin, so she’s a little sleepy, but the pain has eased, and her ankle’s not broken.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Where are you?”

  “We’re still at the hospital, waiting for a prescription. We’ll be free to go in a minute, but I don’t think I should bring Lauren back to the park. She needs some rest.”

  “We’re not at the park anymore. We’re over at Tank’s, watching a movie.”

  “Okay. We’ll swing by and pick up Brandon on our way to Lauren’s.”

  Kimberly paused. “Actually, we’re watching the old Star Wars trilogy, and Brandon seems to be enjoying himself. Besides that, he’s keeping Lucy occupied. Any chance you’ll let him stay a little longer?”

  Tank said something in the background, something that made Kimberly laugh as though they were old friends, but then she came back on the line. “How ’bout I drop him by when I leave here? Tank will bring your bike at the same time. That way you can fill Lauren’s prescription and take her straight home.”

  “That sounds fine,” Harley said. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. See you later.”

  “Is Brandon okay?” Lauren asked as soon as he’d hung up.

  “Yeah. He’s going to stay with Kim and keep Lucy occupied for a few more hours, if that’s okay with you. They’re watching a movie at the apartment.”

  She smiled. “Things must be going well with Tank.”

  “What’s that mean?” he asked. “Kim doesn’t like Tank, does she?”

  “I think so. But she won’t admit it.”

  “She could do worse. Tank’s a good guy.”

  The nurse stuck her head in the room and handed him the promised prescription. “Have her take one of these every four h
ours as needed for the pain,” she said. “And you might want to buy or borrow a pair of crutches to help her get around over the next few days.”

  “Right. Thanks,” Harley said.

  “My pleasure. I’ll get you a wheelchair to bring her to the car.”

  The nurse disappeared and returned only moments later with the wheelchair. Harley helped Lauren inside it, then wheeled her out to the car.

  “Why are you taking care of me?” she asked suddenly.

  “Is there someone else you wish was here instead?” he replied, assisting her into the passenger seat. He’d asked the question flippantly, pretending to tease her, just in case her answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  At first he thought she wasn’t going to respond. She let him buckle her seat belt without saying anything. But before he could go around to get in the driver’s side, she caught him by the arm.

  “No. There never has been,” she said and, judging by her tone and her face, she was serious.

  “SO KIMBERLY’S GOING to bring Brandon home?” Lauren asked Harley, who was helping her hobble down the hall to her bedroom on her new crutches.

  He turned and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve asked me that three times already,” he told her. “I think the Vicadan’s made you a little loopy. Kimberly is bringing Brandon. I’ll make sure he has dinner and I’ll get him into bed. You don’t have to worry about him.”

  Somehow this didn’t comfort her. She wasn’t worried about Brandon; she knew he was safe with Kim. She was more worried about Harley’s constant presence and the way the painkiller seemed to be affecting her mind. It was all craziness, of course, but there were moments when it seemed as if Harley was the man she’d been waiting for, the one who could claim her entire heart.

  “So…you’re staying overnight?” she asked tentatively.

  “I figured I’d crash on the couch, in case you or Brandon need anything during the night.”

  “We have lots of extra beds.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll hang out in the family room. Then we’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow.”

  Lauren thought about the dark, still house, Brandon sound asleep in his room, Harley just down the hall, and felt a tingle in the pit of her stomach. Remembering the pocket experience, she couldn’t help wondering what he might be able to do with some privacy, a bed and a willing partner, then cursed the painkiller again and shook her head. So much for never having had a fantasy…

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No. I think I’m losing my mind,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Harley turned down her bed and she relinquished her crutches and sat on the edge, planning to undress and change into her nightgown. But first, she had something to do.

  “Would you hand me that telephone over there, please?” she asked.

  He reached across the bed and got it for her, then watched as she dialed. “Who’re you calling?”

  “My parents.”

  He grimaced. “Let’s not do that.”

  “If you’re going to stay, I have to,” she said.

  He didn’t respond, but he didn’t leave the room, either. Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, he watched as she waited for the hotel operator to answer.

  “The Ritz. How may I direct your call?”

  “Quentin Worthington’s room, please.”

  “Just a moment.”

  When the phone started to ring in her parents’ room, Lauren hung up before anyone could answer. “They’re still in London,” she breathed. “Thank God.”

  Harley hooked his thumbs in his jeans and looked at the carpet, a frown on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Lauren asked.

  He raised his eyes to hers, but the frown remained. “This is beginning to feel familiar,” he said.

  HARLEY BLINKED into the darkness, wondering what had awakened him. The room was nice and cool, the couch comfortable. Kim had brought Brandon home around suppertime. Harley had fed him, they’d played Nintendo and his son had gone to bed, then Harley had checked on Lauren, who’d been asleep ever since placing the call to her parents. He’d settled in the family room and watched some television before finally nodding off. But according to the clock above the fireplace, it was only two. He’d slept barely three hours.

  Throwing off the blanket he’d used to cover himself, Harley pulled his jeans over his boxer briefs, got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Maybe he was worried about his business. Weekends were the most profitable, but he’d been too involved with Brandon—and Lauren—to even call Joe today. He could only hope his manager was handling everything reasonably well and there’d still be a business left when he got back.

  He opened the fridge and scrounged around, looking for something to eat. He wasn’t really hungry, but he was hoping to distract himself from the thoughts hovering at the edges of his mind. Thoughts about taking Brandon to California. Thoughts about Quentin Worthington and the anger and resentment he evoked. Audra and those early years. And Lauren. Lauren was the most difficult subject of all because Damien was right—Harley wanted her. But it was more than that. He cared about her. A lot.

  I’ll forget about her once Brandon and I hit California, he promised himself. He had to. Getting involved with Lauren was only asking for more of what he’d suffered ten years ago. It wasn’t as though he could expect Lauren to choose him over her father. If Audra couldn’t do it, Quentin’s favored Lauren certainly wouldn’t be able to—and that was assuming she felt something for him in the first place. Remembering the way she’d treated him at karate, Harley knew he couldn’t take even that much for granted.

  With a sigh, he closed the fridge without raiding it as he’d planned and leaned his forehead against the cool metal surface. He was stupid for putting himself in this position again. He had to keep his mind on Brandon and forget everything else. But the only way Harley could justify taking Brandon with him was to allow Lauren ample visitation, which meant he couldn’t cut her out of his life completely. He’d see her and want her and tell himself no and stay locked in a never-ending circle.

  Dammit, nothing was ever simple with the Worthingtons.

  Aggrieved by the whole mess, he headed down the hall that led to Brandon’s room, which was on the opposite side from Lauren’s, to find his son sleeping peacefully. Moonlight, filtering through a crack in the wooden shutters, cast a silvery glow and made Brandon appear younger, more vulnerable than he seemed during daylight hours. Harley felt his heart yearn as he gazed at the boy’s sweet, innocent face. Even at eighteen, the only thing he’d ever wanted where Brandon was concerned was to be the kind of dad he’d never had himself. Was that so much to ask?

  He sat carefully on the edge of the bed. The springs squeaked, but Brandon didn’t stir. He slept on, with Harley watching in morose silence as the minutes dragged by. This week he’d file papers to gain custody, he decided, as a clock somewhere in the house struck three. But was that really what was best for Brandon? Remembering the concern on his son’s face when Lauren hurt herself at the park, Harley wondered if Brandon could ever be happy without her.

  Hell, he wondered if he’d ever be happy without her. In ten years there hadn’t been anyone who affected him the way she did.

  Standing, Harley pulled the covers over Brandon, then bent and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Are you leaving?” Brandon asked, waking in a panic.

  “Shhh,” Harley said, stroking his back to calm him. “I’m not going anywhere. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  His small body immediately relaxed. “Want me to wake up and talk to you?”

  Judging by his slurred words and heavy eyes, Harley knew that wouldn’t be an easy thing for Brandon to do. But Harley appreciated the offer. Not many kids Brandon’s age would be that considerate.

  “No need. I’m just checking on you.”

  “I’m fine.” His eyes drooped. “But don�
�t go anywhere, okay?”

  “All right, buddy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Brandon’s lips curved into a smile for a split second before he drifted off to sleep, then Harley slipped out of the room and went to peek in on Lauren.

  “HARLEY, IS THAT YOU?” Lauren asked when the tread of footsteps stopped outside her door.

  “Doesn’t anyone in this family sleep at night?” he asked, poking his head into the room.

  “Is Brandon awake?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Not any more.”

  “Was something wrong with him?”

  “No, he’s fine. He just woke up for a minute when I went in to cover him. How are you feeling?”

  Lauren tested her ankle and immediately regretted the movement. “I need another pain pill.”

  “You should eat first.”

  She was hungry, but she’d been so wrapped up in Harley that she hadn’t cooked in the past few days, the way she normally did. “What are my options?”

  “Kimberly brought over some of the chicken we barbecued at the park and a few other leftovers,” he said.

  “That sounds good.”

  “I’ll get you a plate.”

  He’d carried her to the car after the accident, driven her to the emergency room, waited with her and helped her to bed after bringing her home. Now he was staying here all night in case she needed him. All of this was above and beyond the call of duty. “Harley?”

  He turned back.

  “You don’t have to do this. I’m not your responsibility.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can’t sleep anyway.”

  After about ten minutes, the light came on in the hall and spilled into her room, and Harley returned, carrying a plate of food. The aroma reached Lauren before he did: chicken, watermelon, coleslaw, baked beans…