I’d always known what I wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. I subscribed to the philosophy that if you want to do something—and you’re not hurting yourself or someone else—then, what the hell? Go for it. You only live once, so why deny yourself the pleasure this world has to offer?
The first three years at college, I’d enjoyed living that philosophy to the fullest, and I’d had a damn good time doing it. The problem was, sometime around the middle of my senior year I’d stopped having the desire to indulge. It wasn’t that I’d lost my sex drive. That was still going strong. The thing that had changed was my interest in hooking up with someone just because I was attracted to him. I started wanting more than shallow, purely physical, no-substance encounters.
I wanted to want to eat breakfast with the person I spent the night with. Hell, I wanted to spend the night in the first place. So, I’d started to be more discerning in my choice of horizontal mambo partners. Since then, all of my dances had been solo performances.
“Here you go, ladies.” Bryson set our drinks. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
An orgasm would be nice.
“Thanks.” Cara smiled brightly.
When he moved away from the table her smile remained in place as she asked between her teeth, “How could there have been no chemistry? He’s so…”
“Full of chemistry?” Destiny offered.
“Yes.” Cara’s shoulder length blonde hair bobbed up and down as she nodded.
“I don’t know? But there wasn’t.” Disappointment filled my chest at the memory of the kiss that had ignited less sparks than a broken lighter.
About six months ago I’d come down to the Tipsy Cow alone, thanks to the fact that my brothers had stolen my two best friends. All of our life it had been the three of us. We were known around town as Charlie’s Angels, a nickname we’d coined ourselves in the first grade. Then, last summer, JJ had married and knocked up Destiny, and Trace had liked it so much he put a ring on Cara. Their wedding was going to be sometime this summer. I’d lost both my fellow Angels within just a few short months. Sure, our childhood dream of all being sisters was actually coming true, but I kind of felt like that was a consolation prize for the fact that I had no one to go to the bar with on random Tuesday nights.
Instead of whining or crying about it, I’d decided to take a page from Beyoncé and go all “Independent Woman.” At least that’s what the plan was as I’d put on my favorite pair of skinny jeans, new cowboy boots, and my red shirt—so low cut it was practically illegal—before heading down to the local watering hole.
That independent spirit lasted for about two minutes after I realized that going to a bar (even in a small town where everyone knows everyone) with no friends to buffer the onslaught of cheesy, borderline offensive pickup lines and drunken passes was about as much fun as a root canal with no anesthesia. But, not one to give up easily, I forced myself to stay and try to enjoy the night out. I’d sidled up to the bar and spent the evening flirting with Bryson. When he announced last call, I’d been shocked at how fast the time had gone.
When the words “Take you home, darlin’?” had fallen from his tempting lips, I’d thrown caution—and my strict no-dating-anyone-in-Wishing Well-city-limits—to the wind. On the way back to my house, as I’d sat beside Bryson, my entire body buzzed with excitement. I was mentally working on what clever-slash-cute way I was going to invite him inside and thanking my lucky stars that I’d taken the time to shave my legs. But when he’d walked me to the door and leaned in for a kiss, the moment our lips touched I’d known that my silky smooth legs weren’t going to be appreciated by anyone but me. Our lip lock had inspired no zippidy in my do da. It wasn’t that he was a bad kisser; it was just that there was no chemistry. He’d felt it, or rather not felt it, too. We’d laughed as we said goodnight.
The really depressing thing was, the no-chemistry encounter was the last action my lips had seen.
“Well, if it’s not going to be him, then let’s come up with some other candidates.” Destiny clapped her hands together.
“No,” I shot back firmly. My friends meant well, but they had both drunk the Kool-Aid. They were card-carrying members of the happily-ever-after cult. I, on the other hand, had always wanted to be free.
At least, that was how I’d felt until recently. I hated to admit it, but watching both of my best friends fall head over heels, madly in love—even if it was with my brothers—had made me start to want things that I never had before. Things like someone to go to Movies in the Park with. Someone to argue with over what pizza toppings to get. Someone to pick me up and take me to bed after I’d fallen asleep five minutes into watching a movie that I’d insisted on. Someone to kiss me until I forgot where or who I was. Someone who looked at me like Trace looked at Cara or how JJ looked at Destiny—like his entire world started and ended with my smile.
If I’d felt more than a little off balance when I’d realized I’d wanted more than just a one night stand, coming to terms with the fact that I might actually want to be in love had turned my entire world inside out. Up was down. Night was day. Nothing made sense.
I was truly hoping that it would pass. That it was just a phase. Or maybe an illness. A disease that I’d unwittingly contracted. If that was the case, then all I had to do was figure out what the antibody was and I would be cured.
“Ooooooh, I think I know who we should put at the top of the list.” Destiny’s lips parted in a smile so mischievous it made Dennis the Menace look like a choirboy as she looked past me.
“Yes!” Cara clapped her hands together in enthusiastic agreement, her gaze focused in the same place. “The hero of the hour!”
“Who are you two all worked up over…?” I turned and looked over my shoulder just in time to see one Mr. Hudson Reed coming our way.
I opened my mouth to refute their nomination, but unfortunately no sound came out. Seeing the crowds part like the Red Sea as Hud, in full uniform, stalked towards me with a hard, unbendable gleam in his gaze had struck me speechless. I wished I could say this was a once in a blue moon occurrence, but sadly he’d always seemed to wield that voodoo over me. The worst part about it was, lately his super power of striking me silent was gaining strength. What used to take action like hearing his voice, or feeling his touch, could now be accomplished by his mere presence.
“Our hero!” Both Cara and Destiny shouted the second he was within earshot.
“I’m not a hero,” he said flatly. His tone was in full work mode, which was sexy as all hell and just as frustrating.
“I beg to differ. You saved Harmony when she went off the road into the ditch,” Destiny stated matter-of-factly.
“And you let her keep Romeo,” Cara rushed to interject.
Hudson ignored my friends’ praises and instead of addressing them, his golden gaze locked on me. The second our eyes met, every inch of exposed skin on my body broke out in goosebumps and my face heated with a blush I was praying no one noticed.
Why? Why did he have to be the one man who caused my body to come to life like no other? Why did he have to be the only man in over a year who did put the zippidy in my do da? Where was the justice in that?
Chapter 4
Hudson
“Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of the rain dance.”
~ Loretta Reed
Shit.
As much as I’d thought I’d prepared myself to come and talk to Harmony, the second I’d laid eyes on her any defenses that I’d put in place had crumbled. My mind went blank, my pulse raced and my palms grew damp like I was a nervous, pimple-faced teenager. Even though the opposite sex had never made me nervous.
For as long as I could remember, I’d known what I wanted and hadn’t been afraid to ask for it. When I was in kindergarten, I remember Maisey Turner’s long, silky blonde hair brushing against my arm on the playground, and the sensation made me want to kiss her. So, I’d told her that was what I wanted to do. I’ll never forget the moment tha
t—after looking down nervously at her black patent leather shoes—she lifted her blue eyes up with a smile that was still seared into my memory, leaned over, and pressed her lips to mine before running away giggling.
I hadn’t known it or fully understood the lesson I’d learned that day, but in my twenty-eight years, being honest and vocal about what I wanted had served me well both in and out of the bedroom—with one exception.
Harmony Briggs.
When it came to her, I kept my desires locked in a chest that I’d buried so deep no one would ever discover them. Which meant I tried to keep any interactions I had with her to a minimum. Every time I was in her vicinity it was like a mental and emotional unearthing. That fact made what I was about to tell her scarier than hell.
“Where’s the dog?” I barked in frustration.
It was hard to keep my emotions in check around her, and more often than not, they all came out with a negative tone.
I didn’t miss the slight flinch in her beautiful face at my harsh tone. But, just like the lightning that had flashed brightly in the sky before disappearing, so did her expression. In under a second, the slender line of her jaw was set with tension and her sparkling emerald eyes went dull and guarded. Without a word, she picked her phone up off the table and turned it to me. On the screen I could see Romeo sound asleep on…her bed.
Damn. Lucky dog.
I’d been in Harmony’s bedroom one time and one time only. Last summer, Harmony, Cara, and Destiny had taken a celebratory girls’ night to the extreme and Bryson, who had been bartending, had placed an SOS call to JJ. Thankfully, I’d been with him and Trace at the time. The other two men took care of getting Destiny and Cara home safe and sound, and I took care of a very intoxicated, very belligerent, and very talkative Harmony.
That night had been the sweetest torture I’d ever experienced. For years I had made it a habit, out of sheer self-preservation, to not only keep an emotional distance from Harmony, but also a physical one. Both were shot to shit in my attempts to wrangle her into my car, then out of it and through her front door, and finally into bed.
She’d bounced from talking to arguing to talking to arguing like someone with a split personality. While she was refusing to get into my SUV in the Cow parking lot, I’d heard all about her plans for the future. How she was planning on moving to New York as soon as she earned her Master’s in Psychology. That she was going to live a life that made Sex and the City look like Sesame Street.
All of that had been hard enough to hear, but the real knife in the heart was what she told me when I’d finally gotten her home. She’d disclosed that the night after her high school graduation, when she’d snuck into my apartment and been waiting for me—naked—she’d been a virgin and had wanted me to be her first. Hearing that information struck me like I had just been kneed in the balls by the Terminator.
I was still trying to recover when she collapsed in the hallway, after vigorously insisting that she didn’t need help walking. I’d picked her up and, after stumbling to her bedroom, she’d proceeded to strip off her dress and inform me that not only was I her go-to fantasy when she pleasured herself at least three times a week, she also slept in the nude, which she demonstrated before crawling into her bed and passing out.
That night had been a test of, not only my honor, but also my sheer will. It took every decent fiber in my body to ignore the searing heat of desire in me that wanted to memorize every curve on her pin-up worthy body. Instead, I’d immediately pulled her comforter over her and got comfortable in an overstuffed chair in the corner so I would know if she woke up. Then I could try to get her to drink some water. Maybe even eat some food. Over the course of the night I’d been able to get three glasses of water in her and had even been able to get her to eat a piece of bread. I’d also had to cover her back up more times than I could count, since she kicked off the comforter every few minutes.
But, I’d gotten to spend the night with the one girl that was off-limits—the only one I’d ever truly wanted.
It was the sweetest, most agonizing night of my life.
Clearing my throat, I tried my best to erase the mental images of her naked body sprawled out on her king-sized bed. Attempting to stay on topic, I clarified, “You put a camera in your room?”
Harmony shrugged sheepishly. “I installed motion sensor nanny cams to keep an eye on him. I didn’t want to miss girls’ night, but I had to be sure that he was okay. This way, if he got upset I could rush home.”
Damn. Seeing this sweet, more nurturing side of her had the soft spot that I’d always had in my heart with Harmony’s name on it expanding like a balloon. She’d always been loyal and caring, but that was a far cry from sweet or nurturing. And if I wasn’t already head over heels for the girl sitting in front of me, this new side of her would’ve flipped me in that direction.
I needed to get to the point and get the hell out of there. There was no reason to spend even a second longer than absolutely necessary, especially since in the coming weeks, I’d be spending more time with her than I had in all the years I’d known her.
“I spoke to Blanche.” As I looked in Harmony’s clear green stare, I hoped that the feelings she inspired in me weren’t written all over my face.
Harmony’s left brow raised and her voice was tinged in defensiveness as she asked, “And?”
“And I was able to convince her not to press charges—”
“Woohoo!” Destiny cheered.
“See, I told you. Our hero!” Cara exclaimed.
I lifted my hand, halting their premature celebration. “There are conditions.”
Harmony’s back stiffened and she crossed her arms in a defiant pose. “I’m not taking Romeo back to that horrible place.”
Yep. Harmony was loyal, to a fault. What if that was the condition? It wasn’t. But what if it was? Was she really willing to go to jail over a dog that wasn’t even hers? I knew the answer to that question before I was even able to finish my thought. Not that it made a lick of sense. If she ended up behind bars, Romeo would end up right where she’d refused to take him in the first place.
Normally, ridiculous logic like that would bug the shit out of me, but somehow when it was coming from Harmony, I found it cute as hell. Endearing. Fucking adorable.
“That’s not the condition,” I corrected the conclusion that she’d jumped to.
I should’ve made her sweat a little, especially considering the hoops I’d had to jump through to clean up the mess she’d made. I’d had to spend more than three hours speaking to Blanche, diverting her advances and trying to get her to agree not to push the issue legally. And that fun interaction had taken place after I’d gotten off a sixteen-hour shift. I hadn’t slept in almost thirty-six hours and I needed to put as much distance as possible between me and that low-cut baby blue shirt Harmony was wearing. It didn’t just complement her cleavage, it advertised it like a billboard in Times Square.
“Fine.” She sighed. “What? Do I have to apologize?”
I was surprised that she hadn’t choked on her own disdain as she said the word.
“No,” I said flatly. “You don’t have to act like a mature adult and apologize; I did that for you. In fact, you’re not permitted to go within one hundred yards of the shelter and are to have no contact with Blanche.”
“Did Cruella De Vil get a restraining order?” Harmony reeled back slightly.
“No.” She’d wanted to. Insisted on it, in fact. Thankfully, I’d been able to negotiate other terms for Harmony’s pardon. “Those conditions are part of the agreement.”
“The agreement?” All three girls spoke in unison.
They did that a lot.
“In addition to not being able to go within a hundred yards of the shelter and having a no contact with Blanche, you will need to complete two hundred hours of community service.”
“Two hundred hours?!” The trio of girls shrieked in horror.
“Or she will press charges, and you can roll the
dice. Hopefully you won’t get Judge Patterson,” I countered.
The three girls exchanged alarmed looks. Judge Patterson had a reputation for being by the book. No gray area with him. Harmony had broken the law. She not only admitted it freely, there was also video evidence. She might not end up in jail since it was her first offense, but no way would she be getting off with less than community service.
“Fine.” Harmony sighed, not showing even an ounce of appreciation for the hoops I’d had to jump through. “I’ll do the community service.”
I handed her a card from my pocket. “Be here tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. sharp. Dress for manual labor.”
“Manual labor?” Her face scrunched as she read the address on the card. “Where is this?”
“It’s up at Emerald Cove, by the lake.” I answered as I turned and began walking away from the girl who was more dangerous to me than any criminal ever could be.
“Emerald Cove? What am I going to be doing there?” she called out after me.
“Manual labor,” I repeated loudly without turning around. “Eight sharp.”
As I made my way through the crowd, I did some mental math. I had ten hours to become totally immune to Harmony Briggs. How the hell I was going to do it, I had no idea. But what I did know was that it was my only shot at surviving the next few weeks with even a shred of sanity.
Just as I made it to the entrance of the bar, I felt slender fingers wrap around my wrist, and my body immediately recognized the owner. Warmth spread through me like I’d just taken a shot of whiskey. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Harmony standing behind me with a stunning, breath-stealing smile on her face that could start a war or just as easily bring peace to the world.
She tugged on my arm and I turned to face her fully. Even from the totally innocent touch my heart pounded so hard I was sure she could feel my pulse racing beneath her fingers.
Discovering Harmony (Wishing Well, Texas #3) Page 3
