Harbour (Runaway Home #1)

by Penelope Louleas

  I'm glad I'm sitting because his beautiful monologue of Reasons I Want You To Live With Me just made my knees weak. He's a bloody poet. How can I say no?

  "Okay," I say, looking up at him through my lashes. A beautiful big smile brightens his face and he pulls me to his lap and hugs me tightly.

  Nothing else is said until we arrive. As the car comes to a stop, I move back to my seat and wait for Lincoln to exit. As his door is opened he takes my hand in his and says, "Let’s go home, sweetheart."

  ****

  I wake in the morning before Lincoln. Resting my head on my hand, I watch him sleep. He is on his back, one hand splayed on his belly, the other above his head. His lips are parted slightly and his black lashes are fanned out over his cheeks. The usual short stubble he sports on his face is a little longer than normal, probably because he's been too preoccupied to shave in the last couple of days. I look lower and, thanks to the sheet sitting low on his hips, I have a perfect view of his torso. I remind myself to ask him when he works out, because a body that looks it was carved in stone must take some serious effort.

  Strength, Respect, Loyalty is tattooed on his chest in a sharp but cursive font. It's low enough to remain hidden under his shirts when he is at work. Professional businessman by day, tattooed bad boy by night.

  Here I am, plain and simple Harbour, and he loves me. I sit up on my knees and sigh. I need to start seeing myself as he sees me. I need to be more confident in my own skin if I plan to spend my life with this man. There will be women at every turn vying for his attention, so as long as he is mine, I will at least act like I deserve him. That's it Harbour, no more negative thoughts. Time for a change.

  I carefully head to the bathroom and, after my quick morning routine, I head back into the bedroom. Lincoln is still asleep so I decide to gently wake him, with my mouth.

  ****

  We finally leave our room in mid-morning and I make us some breakfast. We're seated at the

  kitchen counter while we eat, and we discuss my moving in. We decide that we will spend the day collecting my belongings from my apartment.

  "What's wrong, Harbour?" Lincoln can sense my hesitation.

  "If I move in with you and things don't . . . um . . . work out, I'll be homeless. I'm happy to move in with you, but I think I should keep the apartment. Just to be safe."

  He places his fork down and looks at me, his expression a mixture of anger and sympathy.

  Well done, Harbour, your positive thinking lasted just over an hour.

  "First of all, your faith in our relationship is more than a little depressing. I told you I love you, Harbour, and I meant it. Secondly, if for some crazy reason we separate I would never let you be homeless. I'm actually offended you think so little of me. Have I given you a reason to think this?" His voice is low when he asks and his shoulders slump slightly. Now I feel like a bitch. He's right.

  "No, Lincoln, you haven't. I'm sorry. It's just after everything that happened with my douchebag ex, I feel like I need to protect myself, have a backup plan, you know?"

  "No. I don't. You know why? I'm. Not. Him. You need to remember that. I won't cheat on you; I won't break your heart. Don't judge all men based on your experience with one. Anyway, he doesn't sound like a man, and he let you go, so honestly, he's a fucking idiot." Lincoln stands and steps in front of me. His hands cup my face and he stares into my eyes as if to bring his point home of how serious he is.

  "Do it. Take a chance on me, and I swear I won't let you down." I nod and he smiles then gently kisses me. It a sweet "church" kiss, just lips, no tongue, but full of meaning and emotion. We finish eating, get dressed and head out to collect my belongings. We're ready to start a new chapter in our lives.

  ****

  "Well, that was a lot easier than I had expected. For a woman, you really don't own much crap." Lincoln smirks at me while placing my suitcase on the bed. He's right. I'm not much of a hoarder and aside from my clothes and shoes, there really wasn't much else to bring. A lot of my things were packed in boxes, but most of them were taken straight to Lincoln's storage unit in the basement car park. Those boxes held my linen and other items I didn't leave behind for the new tenants but I also didn't need at Lincoln's. Most of my kitchen items were left behind, Lincoln assuring me that we didn't need them.

  I was nervous closing the door to the apartment for the last time, knowing I couldn't return. I don't know why, but I have that sick feeling like I'm forgetting something. I'm putting it down to the fact that I voluntarily left items behind, and not that I'm scared I'll regret doing this. I need to get over it. My hesitation, my doubts, my anxieties—I need to forget them all and live in the moment. Jeez, I must be the only person in history to be apprehensive about moving from a shoebox apartment to a penthouse.

  Once my clothing is put away in my very own drawers, Lincoln and I settle in for the night and prepare for our week at work.

  ****

  By Friday, I'm exhausted. Sneaking around planning Lincoln's birthday has been harder than I expected. Jackie and I have met twice this week to pick the decorations and other "party essentials" as she calls them. Thankfully, Lincoln has been too busy with his usual meetings to notice. With two weeks to go, Lincoln still hasn't clued in to our plan.

  Tonight, I'm meeting a stylist at an exclusive boutique downtown. I need a dress for the charity event this weekend, and Lincoln insisted he make an appointment for me. As the car pulls up at the boutique, I flush and my heart rate increases. What if nothing fits me? I walk into the store, and am greeted by an older woman. She radiates class with her botoxed face, slim body and perfectly tailored outfit. I inwardly groan, hoping she's nothing like the last stylist I had the pleasure of meeting.

  "Good afternoon Miss Manning, I'm Marie. Welcome. Mr. Whitmore called ahead with an approximate size, which looks accurate, so I have a few dresses ready for you. Follow me."

  I follow Marie to the far end of the store and behind a heavy white curtain. It looks like a bridal shop change room with curtained off rooms surrounding a raised platform in the center. There are several mirrors situated in the room which have no doubt been placed carefully to give the women on the platform the perfect view of every angle. They just make me self-conscious. Marie pulls back the curtain from one of the rooms and my eyes go wide with wonder. The dresses are stunning, all in different colors and styles hanging from a long rack. I'm instantly drawn to a red one and after stripping down to my panties I proceed to try it on. I turn my back to Marie so she can do up the back.

  I hold my breath, waiting to hear the words I'm dreading. Instead, she closes it up and asks me to head out to the mirrored area. Relief floods me as I stand up onto the platform. I take a deep breath and look up at my reflection. Wow.

  "Gorgeous." Marie sighs. I think she's relieved also. I

  take my time, looking from one mirror to the next, not hiding my emotions.

  "Well, clearly you like it." She smirks at me and I nod.

  I'd still like you to try on the rest; maybe something else will catch your eye." I take one last look and head back to the change room, even though I think this is the one.

  ****

  It was the one. I spent two hours trying on every other dress she had for me but I stuck with the first. It was perfect.

  Tonight, Lincoln and I decide stay in. We order food and then end the night with a relaxing bath. Well, that's not exactly how we end the night . . .

  Chapter Nineteen

  The charity gala is tonight and my nerves are shot. I've already had a glass of wine, but that didn't help. Lincoln woke me up with the best kind of wake-up call and after going back to sleep for a couple of hours, I have done nothing but prepare for my evening.

  I haven't left the apartment today; the hair stylist and makeup artist came here. Lincoln has been out for most of the afternoon and is expected back any moment. It’s just on five p.m. and we have to leave by six, so here I am, looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to
compose myself enough to put my dress on. Marie showed me how to put it on myself so that I can make a “dramatic entrance,” which she claims is imperative for an honest response from Lincoln.

  I hear Lincoln open the door and enter the bedroom so I begin putting on the dress. God it's beautiful. And with my hair and makeup done to perfection, I feel like I'm doing it justice.

  I slip my manicured feet into the gorgeous Manolo Blahnik shoes. Yeah, they make my smile brighten. I'm such a shoe addict. I take a deep breath and open the door to find Lincoln gone. I open the bedroom door and make my way to the living room. As I approach, Lincoln has his back to me and is pouring some champagne. There is a beautiful song playing over the speakers, which makes me smile. My man knows how to set the mood. He slowly turns and his expression is everything I could've hoped for and more.

  "Harbour, I have no words. You look . . . wow. I just . . ."

  I smile, make my way over to him and pretty much snatch the champagne flute and scull it.

  "There's my girl!" He laughs as I finish off my glass and hand it back for a refill.

  "I'm nervous." I explain.

  "Don't be. I'm more nervous for any man who takes more than a moment to admire you in that outfit. I have a feeling I'll be a bit of an asshole tonight."

  I giggle and cup his face. "I love when you get all caveman-jealous on me. Makes me feel sexier than this dress ever could."

  He gently kisses my check and takes my hand in his. "Let's get this show on the road. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave." He leans forward, his breath tickling my ear. "I won't lie, I love the dress, but the thought of taking it off you and fucking you in only those shoes has my blood pumping so fast that I'm scared I'll pass out."

  ****

  We arrive at the gala and are blinded by photographers. Lincoln and I stop to pose for a few of them. Questions are being called out but he ignores them all. A few are rather personal, so I don't blame him. I guess they see him as some kind of celebrity.

  After our intense entrance, we make our way to the ballroom where we spend an hour mingling with business acquaintances of Lincoln's. I felt awkward in the beginning but as we met everyone, Lincoln introduced me as his girlfriend, and he always made an effort to include me in the conversation. I was making small talk with the wife of one of Lincoln’s business associates and when the chance presented itself, I excused myself to use the bathroom. After freshening up, I made my way over to our table.

  We are seated with Arthur and his wife, Rain. They are both in their mid-forties and have a cool, surfer look to them. Rain has long, thin, brown dreadlocks and beautiful chocolate skin. Her husband, Arthur, the man responsible for Lincoln's involvement in HFH, is tanned and well-built. He has shoulder-length blonde hair and laughter lines around his bright green eyes. I learn that the couple met while Arthur was on a surfing trip in Barbados. They have been together for twenty years but they still look at each other with complete love and admiration.

  We settle into easy conversation with our tablemates. I love hearing the stories from Arthur about the locals he's met while working on homes. He also fills in the blanks for me about when he first met Lincoln. Turns out, Lincoln was a hard worker, and had to be reminded to stop for breaks. Lincoln just shrugs and says he enjoyed it.

  After entrees are served, Lincoln makes a beautiful speech about what HFH do and encouraged everyone to dig deep for the items on auction, making no special mention of his personal involvement.

  During his speech, I take a moment to look around the room. He has the rapt attention of every person in the room, in particular, the women. Some are just comical, leaning forward, their heads resting on their hands, gazing at my man as if he's the standing there naked and serenading them.

  When Lincoln is finished, he slowly makes his way back to his seat but is stopped several times. I try to play it cool, but the jealousy that quickly rises when gorgeous women openly flirt with him makes it hard. They have no shame, flicking their hair and licking their lips . . . Just before I go to stand to make my way over to him, he spots me and gives me a devilish smile. He knows I'm jealous. He's enjoying it. Bastard.

  Finally, he removes a blonde, fake-breasted woman's perfectly manicured hand off his chest and takes his seat. After compliments from everyone at the table, it's my turn.

  "That was a lovely speech." I smile at him and take a sip of my wine.

  "Thank you. Brandy and her friends thought so, too." He's egging me on. The jealousy has reached nuclear levels. Fine; two can play that game.

  "Yes, I could see she her 'friends' were very impressed. And you must've made her hungry. Or thirsty. I've never seen a woman lick her lips that many times in such a short period. Maybe you should send her dehydrated ass a drink." I take a sip of my wine to calm myself down. Play it cool, Har. "Or maybe not. I've heard camels store water in their humps. Maybe she's got some in hers? They looked like they store enough water to help a farmer in a drought." Lincoln erupts with laughter. Playing it cool? Not so much. Well done, Harbour.

  I try to look angry but he looks so damn handsome laughing. I smirk at him and he surprises me with a huge, semi-inappropriate-for-in-public kiss.

  "I fucking love you! I love your smart-ass comments and when you're jealous, it's incredibly sexy. Humps full of water . . . You're funny when you're mad, sweetheart." He kisses me again until Arthur makes a comment about "getting a room." We part and I look up to find the camel with the front humps staring me down. If looks could kill, I'd be ash. I smile at her and lick my lips, slowly. Yeah, suck on that, bitch. Mine!

  After the mains are served and I embarrass myself with a "We're going for burgers after this" comment, the auction begins. It starts off with a NY Yankees signed Jersey followed by a private sushi-making class for two at Nobu. As they continue, the items get more elaborate and people are bidding for well over what they're worth. From my quick calculations, after six items the auction has already raised over $200,000. There are two auctions remaining, one being Lincoln's car and the other a stunning matte black-colored custom-made Harley-Davidson. They wheel it into the venue and my eyes are glued to it. All I can think about is how sexy Lincoln would look riding it. I would love to buy it for him but when bidding starts at $50,000 I realize there's no chance. There is a bidding war for the bike and when it hits $90,000. I hear Lincoln call out. What. The. Hell?

  I attempt to hide my excitement by casually turning to face him and grabbing his hand. "What are

  you doing?" I ask quietly while smiling.

  He winks at me and continues bidding. At $120,000, which I'm sure is well over retail price, bidding ends, and Lincoln is congratulated for his winning bid.

  "Baby, you just bought a Harley," I say, still stunned by it all.

  "Sweetheart, you hated my car so I gave it away. There's no chance I was going to leave here without that bike after the look on your face as it was wheeled out."

  Right there is yet another reason why I love this man; he's observant. Derek wouldn't notice even the most obvious of things. If that man had asked me one more time if I was "on my period" rather than even pretend to give a shit, I would've kicked him in the balls.

  "Can you ride it?" Please say yes.

  "Almost as good as you." He winks and grins at me. I swoon. I'm squirming in my seat now. This is so damn hot.

  I calm myself down enough to watch the auction for Lincoln's car. As the auctioneer explains the features of this rare vehicle, the men in the room are the ones licking their lips. Even some women are whispering to their husbands, or maybe their sugar daddies, about how sexy they would look driving it. With each photo displayed on the large projection screen, there are collective oohs and ahhs from people in the room.

  "Zero to sixty miles per hour in three point seven seconds." A few of the men in the room groan with pleasure. "Top speed 220 miles per hour."

  More groaning. It's almost erotic.

  The auction begins and the bidding is intense, going up at i
ntervals of $50,000 to begin. The bidding hits $500,000 and then the auctioneer raises the bids to $100,000 each. Before we know it, the car has been won for a staggering $2,000,000 and a very happy wife, or mistress, is hopping around and clapping like an excited trained seal. I hear Lincoln deeply exhale, obviously relieved that the car went for more than it was worth.

  "I'm going to go and sort out the paperwork for our new ride. I'll be back in a few minutes and we can leave." He kisses me chastely and leaves the table. I remain chatting with Rain until I'm approached by the camel with front humps.

  "I'm Brandy." She remains standing next to me, not caring that she just interrupted our conversation.

  "Excuse me, Rain, clearly Brandy would like a moment of my time." Rain smirks at me and leaves the table to find Arthur, or maybe just escape this awkward conversation.

  I offer Brandy a seat but she declines, so I stand to bring us to the same level. She's clearly trying to intimidate me. It makes me smile.

  "I've been friends with Lincoln for a long time, and I care about him. You should know; his ex is back in town and looking to win him back." I don't give her a response; I simply roll my eyes and wait for her to finish.

  "I'm just warning you. Yes, I would love to have Lincoln, but the line of women waiting for him to notice them is too long and I don't have time for that shit. After seeing the way he looked at you tonight, I'm definitely not going there, but you should know a shit-storm is brewing. This is bigger than you think. Just watch your back. Rachael means business, and she won't quit until she gets what she wants." Brandy turns and walks away.

  I stand there stunned. Is she serious? Am I about to lose Lincoln to Rachael? No. He doesn't love her. There's no future in the past. I shrug off Brandy’s comments and sit back in my seat. My phone rings, and it's Jackie. Good. I need a distraction.

  "Hey Jackie, what's going on?" Geez, I sound defeated.

  "You tell me. You sound like someone whose puppy just died. Not what I was expecting when I heard Lincoln bought a Harley!" Wow, news travels fast.