All That We Are

by Melissa Toppen

  Since I moved back here almost a month ago, I swear I’ve spent more time in pajamas moping around than anything else. I finally decided that next week it’s time to put myself back out there. I can only hide out in my brother’s apartment for so long.

  I need my own place. I need my own life. And to get that, I need a job. I may not have much work experience, but I still have a four-year degree. That has to get me somewhere. Or at least, I hope it will.

  “You didn’t have to wait for me, you know. I wasn’t planning to go over until later anyway.”

  “I know. Maybe I just wanted a chance to spend a little time with you.” His statement causes heat to flush my cheeks, but I hide it by ducking into the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

  “And why on earth would you want to do that?” I regain my composure before turning to face him.

  Lord help me, I don’t know what it is about him that’s caused me to become so flustered. Ten years ago I couldn’t stand the sight of him. Fast forward to today, and the sight of him makes my knees go weak. Could he be any more attractive?

  “Because your brother is my best friend and your family is like my family. Makes sense that we at least try to be friendly.”

  “You say that like it’s such a chore.” I pin my gaze on him as he stops on the opposite side of the island from me.

  “Ten years ago it was a chore. If I remember correctly, I couldn’t walk into a room without you staring evil daggers at me.”

  “I never did that,” I object.

  “You did,” he cuts me off with a light chuckle. “ We didn’t much care for each other in the past. But I’m not the same person I was back then, and I’m willing to bet you aren’t either. Who knows, maybe you’ll actually like me if you take the time to get to know me.”

  “Not likely,” I deadpan before a quick smile flashes across my face. “But I’ll let you try to convince me otherwise. If nothing else it will be fun to watch.”

  “Alright, smartass, you ready?” Miles grins, pushing away from the kitchen island as I come around it, his gaze dipping to my feet. “Nope,” he answers the question for himself. “You need to go change your shoes.”

  “What’s wrong with my shoes?” I look down at my cute strappy sandals.

  “I’m not putting you on my bike with those on. My luck you’d lose a toe, and then I’d really be on your shit list.”

  “We’re taking your bike?” I blurt, for some reason not even thinking about the transportation part of this little field trip of ours.

  “Yep. Now go put some real fucking shoes on, would ya?”

  “I’m not getting on your bike,” I interject, fear settling deep in the pit of my stomach.

  “Why the hell not?” He cocks a brow. The humor is clear in his expression..

  “Because I don’t want to die,” I say dramatically.

  “Wow. Okay.” He shakes his head and laughs. “For one, you aren’t going to die. And for two, how do you know you won’t enjoy it once you get on? Have you ever ridden before?”

  “No,” I stamp out like it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.

  “Then you don’t know what you’re missing. Now go. Change your shoes. I’d like to get there while there’s still some daylight left,” he jokes, considering it’s only just after eleven in the morning.

  “I’m not getting on your bike,” I continue.

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  “I already told you. Dying,” I half laugh. “I’ll call an Uber and meet you over there.”

  “You’re not calling a fucking Uber.” He takes a commanding step toward me. “I don’t know what happened to you in Arizona, but the Harlow I used to know wasn’t afraid of anything.”

  I open my mouth to argue. To tell him he didn’t know me well enough to know that about me, but I snap it back shut when I realize he’s right. Ten years ago I would have jumped on that bike without a second thought.

  In this realization, I give him the meanest look I can muster before spinning on my heel and stomping to my room to change my shoes.

  Chapter Seven

  Miles

  I may have been able to convince her to get on the back of my motorcycle, but I didn’t squash the fear she had about it. It’s clear by the way she clings to my body like I’m the only thing keeping her from tumbling to her death. Which in a way I guess I am.

  I can’t help but smile every time her arms get a little tighter around my middle. Hell, I’d even go as far as to say I’m rather enjoying having her pressed against me, the rumble of the bike beneath us, the wind whipping around us.

  It’s very rare that I ride without a helmet, but considering I only have one, and there was no way I was putting her on the back of my bike without one, I had no choice but to go without. Luckily the ride over to her dad’s auto shop is a short one. Though as we pull in, I find myself wishing it were a hell of a lot longer.

  Pulling into one of the front spots that face the road, I quickly kill the bike, turning slightly to help Harlow slide off the back.

  “Well?” I ask, kicking down the kickstand before climbing off.

  “That was incredible.” She smiles at me through the open visor of the helmet, and I swear it feels like someone punched me square in the gut.

  “I knew you’d like it,” I tell her, trying to shake off whatever the fuck is going on with me. “Come here.” I step closer, unclasping the strap under her chin before gently sliding the helmet off her head.

  Her damp hair is matted to her forehead and without really thinking, I take my hand and push it away, my fingers lingering at her hairline for a moment too long.

  Pulling my hand away, I quickly straighten my shoulders and take a full step back. Setting the helmet on the seat of my motorcycle, I turn and head toward the two open garage doors that face out toward the street. The familiar sound of power tools and old country music blaring on the radio accosts me before I even make it inside.

  There are two cars in the shop this morning. Sean and Dawson have an old Jeep up on the lift, removing the tires while Hatchet is under the hood of an old Chevy. None of them pay any attention to us as we step inside.

  Harlow’s behind me, but I make it a point not to turn around and look at her. It’s fucking impossible to explain, but something about the way she looks at me makes me feel a certain way, and it’s unsettling as hell. I felt it that night in the tattoo shop and again the instant she opened the door to her brother’s apartment this morning.

  And while I meant what I said to her earlier about getting to know her again, another part of me feels like I need to stay as far away from her as possible. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I could do that even if I wanted to.

  The whole way over to Winston’s I kept hoping she would be home. I’ve been looking for an excuse to go there for three weeks, yet have somehow managed to convince myself not to.

  “There he is,” Harold’s booming voice hits my ears seconds before he pops out of his office and comes bounding down the metal staircase toward me.

  “Hey, Harold.” I smile, taking the hand he extends to me the instant he reaches me.

  “I was wondering if you were going to make it over this weekend,” he says, giving my hand a firm shake before releasing it.

  “Hey, Daddy.” Harlow steps up next to me.

  “Well hell. Where did you come from?” He smiles, clearly not realizing she was behind me.

  “I stopped by to see if Winston was heading over and found this one scrubbing his apartment,” I tease, hitching my thumb in her direction. “Figured I’d drag her along.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did.” Harold pulls his daughter into a quick, one-armed hug. “How are you, peanut?” he asks, releasing her.

  “I’m good.”

  “Well, I’m glad you two are here. Jackie was just on her way over to take me to lunch. She’ll be thrilled to have two to more join us.”

  “I’ve only got a couple of hours before I’ll need to head back to th
e shop,” I interject.

  “No problem. We’ll be done with plenty of time.” He turns, heading back up the stairs. “Let me grab my things, and I’ll meet you outside.”

  ——

  “So Harlow, Dad says you’re going to start job hunting this coming week? Any ideas on what you’re looking for?" Harold’s wife, Jackie, shuffles her salad on the plate in front of her, her gaze locked on her stepdaughter.

  “I’m not sure yet. I want something in finance. I know there are a lot of opportunities in the city, but I’m not sure how qualified I am.”

  “You went to school for accounting, right?” I interject, popping a fry into my mouth.

  “Yes.” Harlow nods, taking a small sip of her tea before setting the glass back down on the table.

  “Why would you not be qualified?” I ask, trying to follow along.

  “Alan preferred that I stayed home and let him earn the money,” she says, looking down at her plate as if she’s ashamed of this fact.

  “I see.” I nod, thinking this Alan character sounds more and more like a tool every time I hear something new about him.

  “So while I do have a degree in finance, I’ve never actually worked in the field outside of the brief internship I did during my senior year of college,” she continues. “Most companies will probably shy away from someone who’s been out of the profession for over six years.”

  “I told you that you can always come work with me at the shop,” Harold chimes in.

  “I appreciate that, Dad. But there’s no way you’d be able to give me the pay I need to make a decent living. Not unless you plan to fire Jackie.” She grins across the table at her stepmom.

  “You could work alongside Jackie. I’m sure she’d be glad for the help.” He nudges his slender wife in the ribs.

  “I would love that,” Jackie agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

  “I love you both for the offer, but no. I need to make money. Preferably without bankrupting your business because you’re trying to take care of me. I’d like to not be living with my brother for the next year either if I can help it.”

  “I’m sure we could make something work,” he insists.

  “I’m sure you would, Dad, but it’s time for me to make it on my own. Besides, you’re retiring in a couple of years and you’ve already got Winston set up to takeover. There’s no need to add more stress onto an already stressful situation. What you’re doing is working. I don’t want to come in and screw it all up. I’m a big girl. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Come work for me,” I blurt, the entire table going silent as I try to figure out where the fuck that came from.

  “What?” Harlow’s wide, green eyes land on me, a mixture of confusion and shock sweeping across her face.

  “You heard me.” I run with the offer, knowing now that I’ve said; it I can’t very well take it back. Especially not with Harold and Jackie bearing witness to it. “I’ve been looking for someone to run my books for quite a while now,” I tell her. Though I never in a million years expected to offer the job to Harlow of all people. Hell, up until about sixty seconds ago the thought had never even crossed my mind.

  “You’re serious?” Harlow continues to gawk at me from across the table.

  “Delia’s been helping me out for a while, but since the shop has really taken off, it’s become harder for us to keep up with it. We need someone in there full time taking care of the business side of things. Neither of us is that great with the finance and bookkeeping aspect of the business, so you’ll probably have your work cut out for you in the beginning. But yeah, why not? You need a job. I have a position open. It’s full time. You could make your own hours, and we’ll negotiate a fair salary. If nothing else you can use it as a stepping stone to put a little experience under your belt.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Harlow looks around the table before her gaze lands back on me.

  “Say yes,” Harold chimes in, a wide smile firmly in place.

  “It sounds like a perfect fit,” Jackie agrees, jumping on the train as well.

  “You’re sure about this?” Harlow mouths to me, her voice never actually breaking the surface.

  I want to say no. I’m not sure about anything I’m saying at this point, but instead, I smile and nod like I know exactly what I’m doing.

  “Wow. Um, okay then.” Harlow lets out a heavy sigh, her expression teetering between panic and relief.

  “Perfect. You can start tonight,” I tell her, watching her eyes once again go wide.

  “Tonight?” she sputters.

  “Got something better to do?” I challenge, pressing my back into the chair as I look across the table at her.

  “Well, no.”

  “Then it’s settled. You can come to the shop tonight. Observe the business and see how everything works. I can run over some of the book stuff with you between clients. If by the end of the night you still want the job then it’s yours.”

  “Okay.” She lets out another shaky breath, finally letting a smile stretch across her lips.

  “Okay.” I smile back, wondering what in the hell I just got myself into.

  ——

  “Why did you do that?” Harlow waits until we’re at my bike and out of the earshot of her parents before confronting me the way I’m sure she’s wanted to since I brought up her coming to work for me nearly an hour ago.

  “Do what?” I play stupid, snagging the helmet off the bike seat before turning toward her.

  “Offer to let me come work for you.”

  “Because you need a job. I thought we already established this.” I do my best to keep my voice even.

  “But me? Really, Miles. Of all people, you think it’s a good idea for us to work together?” She gestures between the two of us. “Last time I checked, you didn’t like me, and honestly, I didn’t like you either.”

  “Last time I checked that was a long time ago,” I inform her, not able to hide the humor from my voice.

  “I’m just saying, the last thing I want to do is cause issues.”

  I stare at her for a long moment, fighting the urge to reach out and brush her messy waves over her shoulder.

  “Harlow, relax,” I say, dropping the helmet onto her head. “You’ll come work for me. If it works out then great; if it doesn’t then it doesn’t. I think we’re old enough that we can be professional adults about it,” I tell her, snapping the strap below her chin. “Besides, I think you’re growing on me.” I wink playfully.

  I can tell by her expression that she’s not sure how to respond, but after a few moments she asks, “You’re not just doing this because I’m Winston’s sister, are you?”

  Her cheeks blush – the action clear even with the clunky helmet covering most of her face. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so attracted to someone as am I to her in this very moment.

  It’s the strangest feeling and yet oddly undeniable. Here I am, after knowing Harlow most of my life, wondering how it is I missed it for so long.

  How did I not notice the way her green eyes seem to sparkle when the sun hits them just right? Or how the smallest dimple pops on her left cheek when she smiles? Or just how damn beautiful she is, especially when she is pink-cheeked and flustered?

  I shake off the thought once again, frustrated with where my thoughts seem to continue to go.

  “That’s exactly why I’m doing it,” I finally answer, chuckling lightly when her gaze darkens. “It’s up to you to earn the right to keep the job,” I snap down the helmet visor and turn, quickly climbing on the bike. “Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  “You’re not going to take me home first?” she asks, settling on the bike behind me.

  “Not unless you need me to.”

  “No, I guess not.” She wraps her arms around my middle and fuck me if it doesn’t feel even better than it did earlier today.

  Letting out a deep exhale, I fire the bike to life, wishing like hell I could press reset on today. Lord knows I
would do so many things differently. Or at least that’s what I think until Harlow tightens her grip, her fingers flexing around my ab muscles as I veer onto the freeway toward downtown.

  Chapter Eight

  Harlow

  “I don’t understand how you’ve gotten by this long without a proper bookkeeper,” I look up from the stack of papers littering the desk in front of me as Miles enters the office.

  “We’ve managed,” he shrugs, collapsing into one of the chairs that sits opposite the desk.

  “No, you haven’t,” I shake my head. “You’ve got expenses from 2017 that haven’t even been filed. You’re lucky you haven’t been audited. Trying to sort through this mess is going to be a nightmare.”

  “So you don’t want the job then?” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smile.

  “Well, no, of course, I do. I’m just saying...”

  “Look, I get that it’s a bit disorganized. Or rather organized chaos, as I like to call it, but I have every confidence that you’ll get me in tip top shape in no time.”

  “I wouldn’t say no time,” I disagree, gesturing to the top of the desk that’s piled with documents I’ve spent the last several hours trying to get into some semblance of order.

  “Call it job security.” He smirks, and my stomach instantly knots.

  To say I’ve been on pins and needles all day would be one complete understatement. I’ve never felt so off-kilter in all my life. On one hand, I’m thrilled to have an actual job. On the other, I’m terrified to work with Miles, and I’m not sure I even fully understand why that is.

  Since I moved home, he’s been nothing if not nice to me. I’ve only been around him twice, but in that time, he’s never made me feel unwelcome or like he didn’t want me around. Hell, he even offered me a job. A job I’m clearly under qualified for and yet determined to prove I can handle just the same.

  “Delia just took off for the night and Tubbs is almost finished with the tattoo he’s working on. How about we call it a night and I drive you home?” Miles leans forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees.