All Because I Met You (Morgan's Bay, #2)

by Theresa Paolo

  “What the—”

  “Sorry.” Harper moved past him in a whirl of paint brushes and 16x12 canvases. A bottle of paint tucked under her chin slipped, and Milo’s hand shot out, catching it before it fell.

  “What do you have against using a bag?”

  She let out a breath, her caramel brown hair blowing up before falling back in her face. “Nothing, but the bag has something against me. The damn strap broke, and we don’t have anything else in this damn house, so here I am balancing a day’s worth of supplies like a circus clown.” A paintbrush escaped her grasp and clattered to the ground. “Son of a bitch!”

  Milo picked it up and reached for the rest of the brushes in her hand, and Harper, being the stubborn pain in the ass she was, yanked her hand away.

  “I got it.”

  “No, you don’t.” He didn’t wait for her to hand them over—he didn’t have all day—so he snatched them from her grasp.

  Her hazel eyes flipped up to the sky. “I had them.”

  “And I’m Santa Claus.”

  Her gaze drifted over his hair. “I mean I have seen a few gray hairs popping through.”

  His eyes widened and mouth dropped open. “You know my fear of prematurely graying.”

  Her lips curved up in pure smugness. “I know. Santa.”

  “You’re lucky you’re heading to the senior center, or I’d take your canvases across the street and toss them in the bay.”

  Harper barked out a laugh. “You would never.”

  No, he wouldn’t. He knew how hard Harper worked to keep her business afloat and the overhead costs she laid out ahead of time. He’d offered her money—he had a ton thanks to the lawsuit—but she was too proud to accept any capital even in the form of a loan.

  Instead, he watched her work her ass off, save her change, and go without, so she could give her clients the best experience for their money.

  “What time’s your class?” he asked as he walked toward her car.

  “Eleven, but I want to get there early to set up. I have a full house today, and I want to make sure everybody gets supplies.”

  He looked down at the paintbrushes in his hand, knowing it wasn’t enough for a full roster. “Is this everything then?” If she needed more, he’d make a run to the store and get her what she needed before he had to pick up Ms. Wheeler.

  “I kept a bunch of stuff there when I did my last class. Colleen has it all hidden away under lock and key.”

  “Can’t trust those senior citizens. They might try to stuff a canvas under the wheelchair or steal the paint to do some after-hours painting on each other if you know what I mean.”

  Harper held her hand up. “Ew.”

  “Didn’t you know senior centers are where it’s at? There’s a reason nursing homes have a high rate of STDs.”

  “I do not want to think a woman three times my age can get more action than me. It’s depressing.”

  “Maybe you can get some pointers from the women today.”

  He’d given up on trying to give her pointers, since she never listened. He constantly told her she needed to raise her standards and stop going out with every guy she matched with online, but it was pointless. She was a stubborn one, who was determined to find Mr. Right. Milo just didn’t think she’d find him on a dating site.

  She deserved a shift in the universe, cosmic stars aligning and all that jazz. God, he needed to stop letting Jasper have control of the remote. He just thought Harper deserved more than a computer telling her what guy to date. Whatever happened to meeting a guy at the bar or the beach? Then again, they knew every single person who lived in town, so the pickings were slim. Summer was on the horizon, though, bringing in an influx of out-of-towners who would make their way to Morgan’s Bay. There’d be plenty of single guys for Harper to choose from. Then again… the out-of-towners were usually rich jerks who spent more time grooming than she did.

  No, they wouldn’t work either.

  “The only pointers that will be given today are on how much red paint to use.” Harper teetered to her Jeep Wrangler and plopped all the supplies onto the backseat. She shook out her arms while Milo moved around her to put down the lot he’d taken from her.

  “Need some help?”

  “Why, you have nothing to do?” she asked.

  “I have to pick Ms. Wheeler up to bring her to your class then I’m free. I’ll already be at the senior center, so if you need an assistant.” He tapped his chest with both hands and spun. “I’m your guy.”

  “The old timers do love you for some reason.”

  “It’s my irresistible charm.” He winked, and she shoved his shoulder with a laugh.

  “Charm? Or it could be their inability to escape you?”

  “I don’t know… Mr. Shultz is a speed demon with that new walker of his.”

  Harper laughed, and like always, the sound was infectious. Her laugh could brighten the saddest of days. He pretended to use a walker, speed moving around her until she shook her head at his shenanigans.

  “While I’d love to stay and watch you bust your ass eventually, I really have to go.”

  He opened her driver door and waited for her to get inside. “I’ll see you there, then.” He shut the door, and she rolled down the window. He rested his arms on the ledge. “And you tell Mr. Anderson not to eat all the jelly donuts on me.” Harper always had the local donut shop deliver a couple dozen donuts for her events. Milo swore Mr. Anderson hid donuts under his shirt to bring home. All that were ever left when he was around, were the low sugar ones Harper bought for the seniors watching their sugar intake.

  “I’ll put one aside for you.”

  His lips spread wide from one cheek to the other. Harper’s hand met his face, and she playfully pushed him away. “Now go before Ms. Wheeler blows up your phone. You know how she is about being on time.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know.” One time he got her to the senior center only five minutes before the local school choir performed their winter concert, and she got stuck sitting behind Mrs. O’Doherty who was five-ten and a good eight inches taller than Ms. Wheeler. Milo could still hear the nonstop complaining that entire drive back to Ms. Wheeler’s house. He learned his lesson that day. Whenever Ms. Wheeler needed a ride to the senior center, he made sure she was at least fifteen minutes early.

  Harper’s phone rang, and she looked down at the screen. A smile bloomed on her face as she answered. “Hey Tom.” Her brother was her favorite person in the world. No one could steal that title away from him, not even Milo.

  Annoyed wrinkles formed on her smooth forehead. It was a look he’d seen many times. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll figure it out.” She hung up and her hand fell loudly in her lap.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Mom was supposed to drive Tom to work today, but she’s”—Harper air quoted—“sleeping. More like still drunk from last night. Now I’m going to be late for my own class.” She let out a perturbed breath and started the Jeep.

  “Go to the senior center. I’ll swing by and grab him.”

  “No, I—” He put his finger against her lips to stop her from arguing, and she promptly swatted it away.

  He held his hand up. “Stop, we both know how this is going to go. You’ll argue, tell me, ‘No, Milo, I can’t expect you to do that,’ and I’ll say it’s no big deal, and we’ll go in circles for ten minutes wasting time until you agree, so agree now so we don’t waste any more time and I have to listen to Ms. Wheeler bitch about being late.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I know. If I die before you, make sure that’s on my tombstone.”

  “I can’t with you.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Besides, we already know you’re indestructible.”

  It’s what he said after being hit in a crosswalk by a drunk driver. He shattered his leg, broke his pelvis and his wrist. He’d been relieved that Harper had gone home early that night to watch a movie with Tom and wasn’t there to witness h
im go airborne.

  She’d rushed to the hospital as soon as she’d found out. He hated to see the tears and fear in her eyes. He had needed to assure her he was okay. It was when the indestructible Milo was born into existence. It made her smile, and a smile he could handle. Tears, he couldn’t.

  He lifted his arm and flexed.

  “Go away.”

  With a laugh, he tapped the Jeep and headed to his car. He spun back to Harper, finger in air. “Don’t forget to save me a jelly donut.”

  “I won’t,” she said.

  He gave a salute and hopped in his car. He had twenty minutes to get Ms. Wheeler to the senior center. He put his sunglasses on and headed out.

  It made more sense to pick up Tom before Ms. Wheeler, and if Tom was already in the car, Ms. Wheeler couldn’t complain about the time.

  He pulled up to the Flynn residence, and before he could get out to knock, Tom hurried out of the house, hands in the air and an enormous smile on his face.

  “Milo!” He had on his green McConnell Market button-down shirt with his WWE t-shirt poking out the top. His brown hair was combed over to the side, and his smile was as pure and joyous as usual. Tom had down syndrome and the kindest heart of any person Milo had ever known.

  “Hey buddy.” Milo pointed to the t-shirt and gave a thumbs up. “Nice t-shirt.”

  “I bought it with my first paycheck!”

  “Look at you. A working man now.” Tom nodded enthusiastically, and Milo hitched a hand over his shoulder. “Hop in.” If he didn’t get a move on, Ms. Wheeler would not be happy.

  Tom got in the passenger seat, and Milo waited for him to click his seatbelt into place before pulling away from the curb. “How’d your game go last night? Beat that level you were stuck on?”

  “Yup, I killed the zombie and got in the next room.”

  “My man.” Milo held his hand out palm up, and Tom slapped it with a smile. “I just have to pick up Ms. Wheeler and drop her off, and we’ll get you to work with plenty of time to spare. Sound good?”

  Tom nodded, already on his cell phone, playing another game.

  “You’re not playing when you’re on the job, right?” Milo asked.

  “No. It’s against the rules.”

  “That’s right.” Milo held his hand out to Tom again, and Tom gave it a good smack.

  A couple minutes later they pulled up to Ms. Wheeler’s house. She was already outside, sitting on her porch chair, a big handbag on her lap, scowl on her face. Above blue eyes, her white hair was styled into a bob

  Milo got out of the car and jogged over to help her, but she was already halfway down the lawn. Milo held his arm out to her, and she linked her own with his. She moved as fast as an eighty-three-year-old woman could move, which was surprisingly fast.

  “I’m going to be late,” she announced.

  “You have thirty minutes before the class starts. You’ll have plenty of time.”

  “Nora is always fifteen minutes early. If she beats me there, she’ll take all the best supplies.”

  “I’m pretty sure all the supplies are the same.”

  “That’s what they want you to think, but I know.” There’d be no winning this argument, so Milo didn’t argue. He opened the back door and helped her in.

  “You have the honor to be sharing a ride with none other than Tom Flynn.”

  “I must’ve hit the jackpot today.” She patted his back, and Tom turned in his seat with his signature smile.

  “Hi, Ms. Wheeler. You look very pretty today.”

  “And this, dear, is why you are my favorite.”

  “You’re my favorite, too.”

  She stopped, one leg out the door and grabbed her chest. “You just made my day.”

  “We’re going to be late if you don’t get in,” Milo said.

  “Oh, you hush. Don’t you see Thomas and I are chatting?”

  “What about getting the best supplies?”

  Ms. Wheeler swatted the air. “They’re all the same.”

  Milo sighed and waited for Ms. Wheeler to get her other leg inside the vehicle. Once she finally slid all the way inside, Milo closed the door while she and Tom continued to shower each other with compliments.

  Milo got in the driver’s seat and took off, obeying the posted speed limits, letting Ms. Wheeler and Tom talk.

  “How’s your mom, sweetie?” Ms. Wheeler asked, and Milo’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  “She’s sleeping,” Tom said.

  Silence spread through the car, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. He focused his attention on his game. Milo met Ms. Wheeler’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and she nodded in understanding.

  Everyone in Morgan’s Bay knew about Mrs. Flynn. It was kind of hard to cause a ruckus at a local business and not have the entire neighborhood discussing it the next morning. Luckily, the town usually kept their judgment to themselves but not pity, as was evident in Ms. Wheeler’s eyes.

  Harper and Tom survived this long, and they’d continue to survive. Harper was tough and resilient—a true fighter, and she’d do everything in her power to protect Tom.

  Milo dropped Ms. Wheeler off at the senior center first, so she’d have first pick of the supplies. He helped her out of the car, and she glanced at her watch. “Oh no, I’m late.”

  “You’re not late. You still have thirty seconds to spare.”

  “That’s too close for comfort.” Milo almost reminded her it was her chattiness that held them up, but he kept that to himself as he offered his arm for her to balance.

  He got Ms. Wheeler to the door and headed back to the car for his last drop off. Tom’s head was back in his game, eyebrows narrowed in concentration.

  “You better finish up.” Milo put the car in drive. “You’ll be at work in two minutes.”

  Tom nodded, tongue out of his mouth, eyes intent while Milo pulled out of the senior center parking lot and made his way to McConnell’s Market on the east end of Main Street.

  In a couple weeks, he’d be making trips up and down Main Street more frequently as the summer season picked up and brought people in from the city. For now, he enjoyed the slowness of his day, the few random calls for rides and chatting with familiar faces.

  “We’re here,” he said as he came to a stop in the McConnell’s Market parking lot.

  “One more minute,” Tom said.

  “Tom,” Milo said. “What did I tell you about being late to a job?”

  “It’s unprofessional.” He sighed and turned his game off.

  “What time you getting off today, bud?”

  “Five.”

  Milo made a mental note just in case he needed to swing by if Mrs. Flynn didn’t show. “You have a good day.”

  Tom leaned in for a hug, and Milo embraced him. Milo patted his back. “Go make the big bucks.”

  Tom giggled and got out of the car. He waved before turning around and sauntered into the market, waving to everyone as he went.

  Milo shot a text to Harper.

  On my way. Daydreaming about that jelly donut.

  She texted back immediately.

  Mr. Anderson already attacked…

  Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!

  His phone dinged again, and he laughed at the picture of a jelly donut on a napkin with his name on it.

  You should know you can always count on me.

  Never doubted you for a second.

  With a jelly donut on his mind, he hurried to the senior center. He didn’t doubt Harper, but that didn’t mean he trusted Mr. Anderson wouldn’t find a way to get his greedy hands on his jelly goodness.

  Chapter 3

  Harper sat across from Olivia and Isla, her two best friends. Aunt Greta’s Diner had the best pancakes in the state as far as Harper was concerned, and she desperately needed a little carb overload after another dud of a date.

  She gave her order to Annabelle, who had been a waitress at Aunt Greta’s for as long as Harper could remember. Annabelle collected their menus and turned on
her white sneaker toward the kitchen.

  “Let me guess,” Olivia said, taking a sip of her coffee, “last night’s date didn’t go so well.”

  “How do you know?”

  Isla laughed. “You ordered chocolate chips on your pancakes. You only order chocolate chips when you’re stressed, annoyed, or disappointed.”

  “So, most of the time, basically,” Olivia joked.

  Isla tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and picked up her glass of water. “What was wrong with this guy?”

  “No chemistry at all.”

  “Maybe you need to stop being so picky.”

  Harper didn’t think she was all that picky, but if there was no chemistry the date was pretty much dead on arrival. She wanted more than a good conversation in a relationship; she wanted attraction and passion.

  “Easy for you to say when you have someone who is perfect for you and wants to have sex with you all the time.”

  Olivia smiled, her cheeks turning a bright red.

  Harper pointed an accusatory finger at her, noticing a streak of blue paint on the inseam. “You had sex before you came here, didn’t you?”

  Olivia shrugged.

  “I hate you.” Harper fell back into the vinyl booth seat. “I can’t even remember the last time I had sex… or even an orgasm.”

  Isla ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “You don’t need a guy to have an orgasm. Take action into your own hands.”

  “Is that why you haven’t dated anyone since Nolan?” Harper picked at the blue paint on her finger. “You’ve been taking action into your own hands for the past couple of years?”

  Isla blinked before her aquamarine eyes focused on Harper. “It has nothing to do with dating, just taking care of my needs.”

  “Didn’t you buy a vibrator at Raelyn’s sex toy party?” Olivia asked.

  “Only because I felt like I had to buy something. It’s still in the box under my bed.” Harper hadn’t even wanted to go to that party, but Olivia and Isla had guilted her into it. Plus, Raelyn never turned down an invitation, and Harper had felt obligated to go. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and a few weeks later, she was the proud owner of a brand-new vibrator.