The Workaholic and the Realist (New Hampshire Bears #2)

by Mary Smith

  “I’ll open it.” Keaton reached for the bottle, but I pulled it away from him.

  “I’m a professional,” I countered.

  “How so?”

  “I’ve been drinking alcohol for as long as you’ve been alive.” I found the corkscrew and easily popped the cork.

  “So, you’ve been drinking since you were fifteen?”

  I poured the wine slowly. “It seems that way at times.” We sat down at the table,

  Keaton didn’t say anything for a beat. “Harlow, I really am sorry. I meant it as a joke. I didn’t think it through.” He seemed sincere. Actually, for the first, he looked it too.

  “I may have overreacted a bit.”

  “How so?”

  “I’d tried being nice to George, but I should have told him the truth.”

  “That you don’t do relationships.”

  “No. Who told you that?” I scrunched my face up as if I smelled something foul.

  “Oh, I just assumed,” he quickly said, but appeared shocked.

  “I’ve dated and been in relationships. I don’t want to get married or have kids, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with someone.”

  “I’m a little surprised.”

  “Did you really think I’m some slut?” I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair.

  “No, I never thought that at all. I figured you did the casual thing.” He shrugged.

  “Not since my twenties,” I clarified for him. “In my thirties, I had two long-term relationships. One for four years and one for almost three.”

  “What happened?”

  “The usual. They wanted the American dream and a family, and I don’t.”

  “How come?” Keaton rested his arms on the table and sipped his drink.

  “How come, what?”

  “Why don’t you want a marriage, big house, and kids?”

  “It’s not in my DNA.” In truth, I had no real answer on the why of it. I have just been this way forever.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “I’ve been in love. I’ve cared about men and was saddened when the relationship ended. I have a heart, you know.”

  I hated when people thought I was nothing but some cold-hearted bitch. The men who have been in my life have meant something to me, have helped me grow and/or taught me something about myself. When the time came to end the relationships, there were tears, sadness, and a couple times, I did question if it had been the right move for me. The answer was always yes. The ending of a relationship didn’t mean it had been wrong.

  “I think you have a very big heart, honey-bunny.”

  “Thanks, puppy and apology accepted.”

  “Thank you,” he smiled.

  We sat at the table and finished our glasses and mainly talked about Keaton’s book. I deeply wanted to ask him more about Grams and college, but I needed to ease into the subjects.

  “How’s Grams?” Start off slow.

  “She’s good. She went back to her place. I swear every time I’m hurt, she’s the first one there.”

  “That’s not a bad thing, Keaton. She loves you.”

  He nodded. “She does, and she shows it all the time to embarrass me.”

  “She did tell me a lot about you,” I giggled.

  “Harlow, please don’t tell anyone.” The anguished look was back on his face.

  “Why? You should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished. How many professional hockey players are working on a master’s degree, writing a book, and the top player in the league?”

  He shrugged.

  “You like being a workaholic, don’t you?”

  “I like to be busy,” he simply stated.

  I laughed. “Busy? Puppy, you’re way beyond busy. Do you like running like your head is cut off?”

  “Actually, yes. I hate sitting around. Well, I do sometimes when I read, but that’s it.”

  “Read?” This caught my attention.

  “I like the classics, true detective books, and the occasional memoire.” He hung his head a bit, and I could see his shyness had made an appearance.

  “I’m more of a romance girl. Although, I’ve recently been reading paranormal romances more.”

  Keaton tilted his head, studying me. “I find that odd.”

  “What?”

  “You reading romances, but don’t believe in it.”

  I scoffed. “I never said I don’t believe in romance.”

  “Don’t all those books end with the couple riding off into the sunset?”

  “First, those are westerns. Second, it’s not always a happy-ending. Some of the books end like real life, with couple just being happy. Sometimes, it doesn’t have to end in marriage and babies.”

  “I guess you’re right.” He took the last swallow of wine. “I think I’ll head home. Thanks for accepting my apology, honey-bunny.”

  “You’re welcome, puppy.”

  We both stood up, and I escorted him to the door. Right before he reached for the handle, he turned back to me.

  “What?” I furrowed my brow, curious why he stared at me without saying anything.

  “I’m internally debating something.”

  “Which would be?”

  He stepped closer to me, close enough I could see the light blond stubble on his face. “If I kiss you, would you kiss me back or knee me in the groin?”

  I gave him my best resting bitch face, trying to seem unimpressed. In reality, I wanted to feel his lips on mine.

  “What do say honey-bunny?” His voice lowered.

  “Do you think you can handle what happens afterward?”

  “Neither of us want a relationship, right? I don’t want one for sure. I definitely don’t want kids or the America Dream Family.”

  “Is it because of your parents?” I didn’t know why I popped the question out to him, but I watched his face fall. “Keaton, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask you that question.”

  “It’s okay. No problem.” He stood taller to get away from me and backed toward the door.

  “No, seriously, I’m sorry.” I reached for him, but he pulled away.

  “It’s no big deal. I’ll send you those chapters this week.”

  Before I could say something to try to get him to understand how sorry I was he rushed away. I hated myself for bringing up his parents and I still didn’t know why I did it.

  “Shit.” I mumbled as I watched him speed away from my house.

  Chapter Six

  Keaton

  I never knock on Grams’ door; I just unlocked it and walk in, usually yelling her name.

  “Keaton Michael.” She came rushing from the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

  Immediately, I was suspicious at her question. “I thought I would come over. Why are you acting strange? Do you have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” For years, I’ve told her to go out by she never has.

  She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. “No, I don’t have a man here. I can’t believe you’d even suggest it.”

  I chuckled. “Then what’s up?”

  “It’s because I’m here.”

  I looked up to see her standing in the doorway by the kitchen.

  “Hello Keaton.” She smiled, but I didn’t return the gesture. “How are you?”

  “I’m leaving.” I glanced down at Grams. “I’ll come by later when she’s gone.”

  “Keaton, please, may we talk for a moment?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “No, Felicia, I don’t think we need to talk about anything.”

  “You can’t call me mom?”

  “That’s a title you don’t have in my book.” I studied her eyes. I had her ice-blue eyes and Marco’s, my father, blond hair. “I’m going now. Grams, don’t give her any money.”

  “I’m not here for money. I’m here to say I’m sorry and try to rebuild our relationship.”

  I tossed my head back in laughter. “Is this one of the twelve steps you’re going through? I should
clarify: you and I don’t have, nor will we ever have, a relationship.”

  “Kea—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Grams has been the only mother in my life. You didn’t help get me where I am today. So, I don’t fucking care what happens to you.”

  “Keaton Michael,” Grams hissed at me. She hated foul language.

  “Sorry,” I quickly apologized. I wouldn’t want to upset her. “Call me when she leaves.”

  “Please, son.”

  “Don’t call me son,” I roared, and Grams grabbed my arm as I went charging toward Felicia.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I want to be in your life again.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Right, you said the same thing when I was five, eight, twelve, sixteen, and eighteen. You know I figured out a long time ago you were full of shit.”

  “Keaton Michael.” Grams dug her nails into my bicep.

  “Again, I’m—”

  “Sorry,” I finished for her. “Yeah, I got the memo. Thanks,” I sneered sarcastically. I kissed Grams cheek then stared Felicia down again. “If anything is missing after you leave, I’ll call the cops.”

  I didn’t wait for her reaction; I rushed out the house and headed to my apartment. I couldn’t believe Felicia had showed up at Gams. I remembered throughout my childhood she would come around every few years. Mostly, when she had been released from jail and needed money.

  When I got into my place, all I wanted was quiet and a beer. Maybe a book? Sometimes it helped me deal with my life better. I dropped my coat and keys at the door, grabbed two beers and Oliver Twist. Another of my go-to books.

  I had settled into the couch and downed the first beer and a couple chapters when there was a knock on the door. I cussed because I figured it had to be Felicia trying to gain her Mother-of-the-Year award. I stood up and went to the door, all the while fuming madder and ready to lay into her.

  When I flung the door open I stopped before I could say a word.

  “Harlow?”

  “Um…hi…” she seemed baffled.

  “Sorry I thought you were someone else.”

  “Oh, if you’re expecting someone I can leave.” She goes to turn, but I grab her coat sleeve.

  “No, I’m not expecting anyone. Come in, please.”

  Harlow nodded and confidently strolled into my apartment and took a seat on my couch.

  “Oliver Twist?” She picked up my book and examined it.

  “I like it.” I sat in my recliner staring at her. “What can I help you with, honey-bunny?”

  She leaned back and crossed her long legs. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was straight as a board and fell in front of her. But, Harlow’s dark blue eyes still mesmerized me.

  She’s a siren.

  “I’m sorry about earlier.” Her tone was low and even.

  “It’s no biggie.” I waved it off.

  However, it had been a big deal to me. I hadn’t stopped thinking about Harlow since she’d come over when I was hurt. Sure, I’d thought of her before, but now it was all-day-every-day; it was the reason why I tested the waters with her. Until she’d brought up my parents; that killed the mood fast. Though, apparently not forever.

  “It is a big deal.” She spoke firmly. “I don’t think before speaking sometimes, and my mouth has a mind of its own.”

  I grinned. “My does too.”

  “I have no right to bring up your parents or your past.”

  I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “Keaton,” she chided.

  I loved the sound of my name off her lips. “Look, honey-bunny,” I sighed. “I’ve had a shitty life, but Grams is the reason I didn’t follow their path.”

  “Without being rude, may I ask what happened?”

  I rubbed two fingers hard against my lips. I’ve never really talked about them to other people. When someone asked, I’d just dodge the question by saying nothing, or that it wasn’t anyone’s business. As I got older, people never really asked about my background. But, Harlow seemed to be different to me. Since the first time I met her, I knew I wanted to get to know her better. When she started editing for me, we became close. As least, I thought so, and now she’ll know all my deepest secrets. Even though Grams has a lot to do with that part, I was glad Harlow would know about it all.

  “My parents met through a mutual friend in their twenties. They both love alcohol and drugs more than anything else. Grams told me Marco started as a teenager, but Felicia, I’m not too sure about. I guess she got worse after they got together. Anyway, I popped out, and that’s it.”

  “And Grams raised you because of their issues?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “And the fact they dropped me off on her doorstep.”

  “Wait, literally?”

  “Pretty much. I was a month old. They asked her to baby sit and never came back. I was five when I met Felicia for the first time. She’d just gotten out of jail. She’d been there because of a bar fight or something. She promised me I could come live with her, and we’d be a family. It never happened. Though it did start a pattern of her coming in and out of my life every so often telling me the same thing.”

  “Your father too?” Harlow asked, seemingly deeply invested in my background.

  “I met him twice, but he died when I was fourteen.”

  At twenty-five, it shouldn’t still bother me, but a small ping of pain hit my heart. As a child, I never thought I would get over the fact my parents didn’t want me. I thought I’d grown out of the little fact, but talking about it right now, I feel the familiar emotion again.

  Changing the subject was the best for me right now. “What about your parents?”

  “The opposite of yours,” she rushed out. “Sorry.”

  “No big deal.”

  “My parents were from Quebec City and moved here after they married.”

  “How come?”

  “Jobs. My dad ran a sawmill. Mom had a daycare, of sorts. She took care of all the neighborhood kids. She loved every moment of it.”

  “Brother or sisters?”

  “None. Just me.”

  “Are they still around?”

  Harlow shook her head, and her face grew sad. “No, Dad died when I was still in high school and Mom in college.”

  My heart dropped. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been a long time, puppy. It’s been hard, but I know they’re together and don’t have any pain or worries, and that brings me comfort.”

  I nodded. It was a nice way to think of her parents. I knew I would feel the same about mine. Grams was the only one I cared for; she was my rock.

  “I really came to say I was sorry.” She stood up, and I did as well.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay and have something to eat.”

  “Do you have homework to do?” she sternly teased.

  “Yes honey-bunny, I do.” I smirked.

  “Well, unfortunately, I have a lot of work to do.” She headed toward the door.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” I rushed up to her, leaning in, and whispering close to her ear.

  She stopped, and I pressed against her back. She smelled fresh, almost like a flower.

  “Flirting? Really, puppy? Do you even know how to seduce a woman?” She turned and faced me.

  Normally, women were much shorter than me, and I had to bend down to them. Not Harlow, she was almost eye level with me in her heels. The hot blaze in her eyes and her warm breath turned me on even more than I was.

  “I so very much know how.” My voice lowered and my grin remained.

  “Then answer me this.” Her lips were millimeters from mine. I could smell her minty breath. “Can you make a woman come without touching her below the waist?”

  “What?” Did I hear her right?

  “Can you make a woman come without touching below the waist?” she repeated.

  “Um…” I stumbled to answer her. Sure, I’ve made lots of girls come under my touch, but I couldn’t c
ome up with a quick enough answer.

  “Such a shame.” Harlow kissed my cheek. “Bye, puppy.”

  I stood there speechless as she walked out the door. After a full minute, I finally regained myself and made a promise that she wouldn’t stump me again.

  And I would make her come.

  Soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Harlow

  “All right, I’ll be looking forward to your new book.” I smiled at my computer screen, speaking to one of my authors. “Talk to you soon.”

  I ended the call and looked down at my calendar. Meadow had constantly made fun of me because I still used a paper calendar.

  I’m old-school, and I’m not changing.

  However, one thing needed to change in my life, and I knew it would have to happen soon.

  “I need an assistant.” I scratched my head seeing how busy my next couple of months would be. I’d put it off long enough, and I wanted a real person too. I didn’t want to be communicating to someone though emails and shit. Yes, I knew it was the age of technology, but again, I was old-school. I decided lunch and a workout would be the next on my to-do list and I’d deal with the assistant stuff later.

  Yoga started in twenty minutes, and it gave me enough time to get here. I might even do a few miles on the treadmill. I grabbed a Powerbar, my gym bag, and headed off to my SUV.

  Driving to the gym, it was nice to see it hadn’t snowed in a few days. I hated winter and glad I worked from home now and didn’t have to be out in it. The gym wasn’t overly packed, and I made it to yoga on time.

  When I first started yoga, I thought it would be a big joke. Until the next day, when I couldn’t move from my sore muscles. I tried to do it at least once or twice a week. Running and cycling were my other go-to exercises.

  Once yoga finished and my three miles on the treadmill ended, I headed home for a long hot shower and something delicious to eat. Of course, I couldn’t cook, so take out it would be.

  I hadn’t talked to Keaton since I teased him at his apartment. I send him the revised chapters, but I knew he’d on the road for the next week. I figured he would get back to me later when he got back to Manchester.

  I stared at my laptop as I sipped my espresso. I enjoyed working at The Latte Bean. Mainly for the coffee. As Madonna’s greatest hits blasted through my earbuds, I went back to editing my client’s book. I almost jumped out of my chair when Meadow’s head popped up from behind my screen.