“More than okay,” I replied. “I love you too, Harlow.”
FOR TWO PEOPLE WHO loved using their words, the only form of communicating Grady and I had been doing since leaving Turks and Caicos was the physical style. It was half past six in the morning and my inbox was jammed with a mountain of unopened emails, and I had three articles that demanded my attention. Grady’s body, his mouth, and his cock were too tempting. Not that I didn’t love being around him, but my lady parts needed a break.
I stood in the living room admiring the stunning view as the sun rose above the trees on the horizon. Hints of summer’s end and shades of fall would soon weave their way into our lives. Over the dunes, Grady came into view with his board in tow and his wet suit slung low on his hips. I admired his muscular legs, his rippled abs and those fucking arms—superbly defined. He propped his board up against the side of the boathouse and shook the water from his hair and then slicked it back.
Watching him was a dangerous spectator sport and my traitorous body ached with the need to touch him. No, you have to work today, Harlow.
I shoved my laptop into my bag and then checked my calendar with all my appointments and meetings for the week. After my conference call with Haven, I was going over to the North Harbour Coffee Shop to work.
Grady came into the house, freshly showered wearing nothing but a towel. My fingers twisted the ends of my hair as I studied every line and angle of his lean body.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“A few things—work, finding a place to live, and summer coming to an end.” If I told him what I was really thinking about he’d have me naked and on my back in a matter of seconds, and I needed some self-control. Not a total lie though, all those things were on my mind.
“So, you only have a few things on your mind, huh?”
Our lips met for a long slow kiss. He shifted, pinning me against the breakfast bar. My white blouse and lace bra pushed down, exposing my breasts. Our kisses escalated into to tangle of tongues as his finger teased my nipple. Every part of him was hard, his blue eyes brimming with lust. A hand pushed beneath the waistband of my jeans.
“Grady . . .” The need, I felt it in his touch as his erection pressed against my belly.
“Let me have you, Harlow,” he whispered, his lips grazing over mine.
Taking back my willpower I shoved at his chest. “You can have me tonight, but right now, I have to call Haven.”
He stepped back smirking and then tugged the towel so that it fell to the ground. His hand fisted his cock, his big, thick, beautiful cock, and I had to walk away.
Fuck, adulting is overrated.
I grabbed my car keys and waved to Grady, who stood in the living room gesturing to his cock.
“Harlow,” he growled. “You’re seriously going to leave me while I’m hard and waiting for you?”
“Yes, I’m seriously leaving you,” I replied, opening the door to the garage. “But if it helps, you look damn good naked. It’s really difficult for me to walk away.”
Gingerly, he reached for the towel on the floor.
“Bye-bye, I love you,” I called out, just before he snickered tossing the towel in my direction.
Harlow: I’m claiming North Harbour Coffee Shop as my territory.
Grady: So, it’s a no-fly zone for me?
Harlow: Consider this place my Crystal Castle.
Grady: Did you just make a reference to She-Ra?
Harlow: I did. You are exiled from Skydancer Mountain.
Grady: Forever?
Harlow: Not forever. It’s been three days and I’m getting so much done.
Harlow: We can renegotiate terms at a later date.
Grady: We’ll work them out naked while you ride my cock.
Harlow: Is there anything else? Be explicit.
Grady: Roses are red. Violets are blue. I’m using my hand and thinking of you.
Grady: Picture my fist wrapped around my cock, my cum splashing onto your stomach.
Harlow: Yes, I’m picturing it.
Grady: And for some reason I now have an image of you in a Princess of Power costume.
Harlow: Okay, enough. You cannot turn my childhood hero into a dirty whore.
Grady: You started it.
Grady: Get back to work.
Smiling, I shoved my phone into my pocket. After ordering my coffee and chocolate croissant, I found a quiet spot in the corner. I opened my email sifting through several press inquiries. My eyes landed on an invite to a special event for Bella Magazine.
“Hello, Harlow,” a voice whispered. Not just any voice, the posh in his English accent was completely recognizable. “Is this seat taken?”
I lifted my head from my computer’s screen to find Harry standing there with a cup of coffee in hand. I blinked twice, thinking I might be hallucinating. The sunlight reflected off his silver Bulgari watch, drawing my eyes to meet his. He was dressed in a white tee and dark denim jeans with his ball cap tugged low over his brow. I doubted anyone would have recognized him here.
“Harlow, can you hear me?” he asked, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Uh, hi,” I drawled.
He slid into the chair across from me. “How have you been?”
My arms folded over my chest. “How have I been?” I repeated. How in the hell did he know that I was here?
Nodding, his lips pulled into an amused smile. “Yeah, that’s what I asked.”
“How did you find me?”
Leaning back into the chair, Harry stretched out his long legs under the table. “Instagram. You’ve been checking into this place for days.”
Confusion washed over me. I thought I had turned off my location settings after the Heather incident. I pulled out my phone, swiping it to life. “So what, you’re a stalker now?” I snapped.
How the hell do I turn off my location settings?
“Not a stalker.”
My head was still buried in my phone. “Well, what would you call it, Harry? Let me guess, you just happened to be in the neighborhood?”
“Actually,” he began, tapping his finger to the table. “I was in New York with some of the guys, taking in a game and some of the culture. Francisco’s family, his mum’s an American. Well, they summer here, so we came out for a few days.”
I glared at him. “How convenient for me.”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, leaning forward. “And even though Zanita told me to piss off, I needed to see you.”
“You don’t take direction very well, do you? That’s why you played so poorly during the opening matches against Team USA.” I rubbed my temples, annoyance taking its toll. “How could you do that to me?” I hissed.
His lips twisted into a frown. “I’m not proud of that, but you know how it goes—do whatever it takes to get people talking, tuning in, or buying what you’re selling. Right, Harlow?”
There was an edge to his voice that I hadn’t noticed before—ominous yet, somehow telling. I studied his face as the look in his brown eyes took on a knowing smugness.
“I trusted you Harry and I loved you,” I said solemnly. “You dumped me, and basically ghosted me. Then, when the rumors swirled, you didn’t even have the decency to defend me.”
“They wouldn’t let me.” He swallowed thickly. “I wanted to tell the press every fucking time that my poor play was me and me alone.”
I’d imagined this conversation a few times in my head, the moment when I’d confront Harry and lay it all out.
“Aside from the business of you throwing me under the bus with an entire country,” I said quietly. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you broke up with me?”
His arm reached for his cup, most likely filled with English tea. The hem of his t-shirt inched up over his biceps, revealing the dark ink of his tattoo—a lion with Celtic knots, some kind of emblem. I remember he had explained the significance of the design to me once, but its meaning wa
s lost on me in the moment.
“I broke up with you because you . . . you were becoming the bigger star. I couldn’t let you overshadow me during the games. It was advised that I end things.”
The words were sharp, slicing right through me, and with the pained expression on his face—I’m not sure who they hurt more.
“Bigger star?” I asked. The words tumbled out with a hysterical laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Heads that had been bent over laptops perked up like prairie dogs in the desert spooked by the threatening noise of a predator. Harry’s eyes dropped to the floor, the shame passing over his face was immeasurable.
“And I might have been a tad jealous.”
“Lame. Really lame.”
“I fucked up, Harlow, I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at me. “I wanted to tell you that much at the very least.”
That was my closure, but as it seemed I was already over it. It was an odd feeling. He didn’t ask for me to forgive him, and I wasn’t sure he wanted me too. It was done. There was nothing more to say.
“You’ve said your apology. Is there something else?”
“Yeah,” he answered, his eyes never leaving mine. “I came here to tell you that I still love you. I want to marry you and build a life with you.”
Shaking my head, I stood up. “How dare you, Harry,” I spat, gathering up my belongings. “This thing that was between us, it’s done. It’s over. I was in bed for weeks crying over you, and I had to get over you because you left me—there was nothing but a ‘see ya, don’t let the door hit you on the ass’ from you.” I shoved my laptop into my Tyler Ellis tote and got the hell out of there.
I walked and walked, my feet hitting the ground harder with each step along Harbour Drive. Needing quiet, I turned off my phone. My feet throbbed, and I realized I didn’t have the right shoes for taking a long power walk. The black shirt I had on didn’t help matters as it seemed to be a heat magnet for the afternoon sun.
I stopped for a moment, ducking into a store to cool off. The boob sweat was at a serious level of annoyance. When I leaned over a rack of white and pink frilly blouses, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.
“Harlow?”
I turned around to see Ella Connolly standing before me wearing the most adorable white, wide leg jumpsuit with billowy flutter sleeves. Her red lips accented her beaming smile. Pregnancy glow was no joke, because she had it in spades. I hoped to look this good when I was pregnant.
“I thought that was you,” she said, giving me a tight hug. “That auburn hair of yours is a dead giveaway.”
“It has always been my trademark.”
“What brings you to my store today?” she asked, looping her arm with mine.
“This is your store?”
She nodded, leading me around a table of scarves towards the seating area with a sleek modern couch and two black leather club chairs. Ella gestured for me to take a seat, while she grabbed a bottle of San Pellegrino and two glasses.
“I should definitely do a feature of this store on my website. Maybe, even a few ‘look of the day’ posts.”
She handed me a glass, and then took a seat beside me. “I’d love that, you just let me know what you need.”
“I had no idea this was your store.”
“It is, I just love the location,” she said, tucking her fist under her chin.
And that was all it took for the tears to slide down my cheeks. The word “love” apparently triggered an avalanche of emotions.
“Oh no, sweetie,” Ella whispered, handing me a box of tissues. “Tiffany, finish up with those two clients. Hang the closed sign up and then you can take your lunch.”
I blinked up through my tears. “Tiffany? Tiffany Buchanan?” My eyes were playing tricks on me, Afton’s little sister was not so little anymore.
“Harlow? Oh my God,” she cried out, hugging me. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Drying my eyes, I pushed to my feet. “You’ve grown up,” I said, taking a step back.
Ella stood and clasped her hands together. “I take it you two know each other.”
“Tiffany is my best friend’s younger sister,” I answered. “Afton told me you were spending the summer in Greece.”
Ella patted my shoulder. “I’ll let you two catch up while I finish up with the clients. Then we’re having a chat about the waterworks.”
“I just got back from Greece last week,” she said, rocking on her heels. “I have to be on campus next week, but Ella said I could pick up hours here anytime.”
While Ella helped the customers, Tiffany and I gabbed about Nicholas and Afton’s surprise marriage news.
“I haven’t seen Afton in a few days,” I admitted, closing my fingers tightly around the tissues.
“Afton is leaving for Chicago to see her hubby,” she replied as she glanced at her watch. “Correction, she left about an hour ago. I’m staying at her place this weekend. I can only stay at Daddy’s so long before my mind is overrun with memories and I don’t know whether to cry or scream. I’d like to keep my sanity.”
I nodded. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Tiffany losing her father at such a young age. On top of that, she was still a teenager and her mother wasn’t even around. As we chatted about the upcoming school year and her trip to Greece, Tiffany busied herself with the task of finger spacing hangers on the built-in rack.
Ella strode up beside us, rubbing at her shoulders. “I’d ask if you want to grab a drink, but how about going for ice cream, instead.”
I hauled my bag onto my shoulder. “That sounds great.”
“Thank you for this doughnut filled with ice cream,” I said, before popping the last bite into my mouth. Yeah, I ate the entire thing.
Even though the food I just devoured wasn’t healthy, having girl time with Ella was much needed.
“So, what’s got you feeling blue?”
I wiped my fingers with the napkin. “I just ran into my ex at the coffee shop. Actually, he stalked me via Instagram.”
“Girl,” Ella said, giving me a knowing glance. “You’ve got to turn off your notifications.”
“Duly noted.” I held my phone up. “I can’t figure it out.”
She plucked the phone from my hands. I watched in awe as her fingers flew over the screen. “Done, and now you don’t have to worry about him any longer.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but he professed his love and desire to marry me.”
Her blue eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” I reached for another napkin. My fingers danced along the smooth edge and then I started to rip the paper.
Ella sipped her water, watching me destroy the napkin. “Usually I’d call a man a douchebag, but given that your ex is an Englishman, he’s a total wanker.”
“Do I tell Grady?”
She nodded. “Yes, you tell him everything, but the declaration of marriage is irrelevant. Grady doesn’t need to know about that, it’s a moot point.”
“It’s like a cow’s opinion, it’s moo,” I said.
That threw us both into a fit of laughter.
“Thank God, you’re a Friends fan,” Ella mused. “I don’t trust anyone who isn’t.”
“Same.” I liked Ella. She was so easy to like, and I was drawn to her genuine demeanor. Sweet Ella, with her perfect topknot and her chic pregnancy outfit.
She slid off the barstool and grabbed her purse. “Come on,” she said, tugging my elbow. “I need to walk off these calories. Let’s go look at adorable baby clothes.”
Our heels clacked against the sidewalk in unison.
“Clothes are so much cuter when they’re tiny.”
“Agreed,” Ella said, looping her arm with mine as we crossed the street.
My afternoon with Ella was wonderful, we ended up going to the spa and I walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. I had a good feeling that we were going to become fast friends.
&nbs
p; “Long day?” Grady asked, tossing a newspaper onto the island.
“Yeah, you want?” I asked holding up a glass.
He approached me, and I stood in front of him, drinking in his beautiful face. Hitching his arms around my waist, he pulled me close. I buried my face into his chest, breathing in his fresh clean scent like the ocean water. It was uniquely Grady, and his hold on me was warm and familiar.
He kissed the corner of my lips. “I’ll grab a scotch.”
“Yeah, you’ll need a stiff drink for what I’m about to tell you.”
He stopped in his tracks, and turned back to face me. “What’s going on?”
“Join me on the sofa and I’ll tell you all about it.”
After he poured his drink, he dropped onto the sofa. I joined him, curling up and tucking my legs under me. Warmth slid through my veins as he pulled me into his side.
“I saw Harry today,” I said, staring into my glass.
“Go on,” he murmured into my hair.
I took a drink of my wine and continued. “He said he was sorry, told me his still loved me and admitted he fucked up.”
“He wants you back?”
I looked up at him. “He can want all he wants, but it’s too late because I’ve fallen for someone else.”
He touched my face, his fingertips swept down my cheek. “This guy that you’ve fallen for, he’s very lucky to have you in his life.”
“ZIP ME UP,” I coaxed, glancing at Grady over my shoulder. I stared at my reflection falling in love with the dress all over again—a cornflower blue, sleeveless, lace midi. I even found adorable floral print heels and a gorgeous set of off-white baubles for flair.
“Gladly,” he said, stepping into the bathroom. “You look fucking stunning.”
I fluffed the ends of my hair, adding a few more curls with the iron. “I’m not upstaging the bride, am I?”
“That’s a loaded question,” Grady replied, adjusting his silver cufflinks.
Healed by You Page 19
