The Heiress and the Mechanic: San Diego Social Scene Book 5

by Tess Summers

  From the looks the two were getting from some of the female patrons, none of those facts would have mattered if he’d wanted to take one of them home—today. But Ben knew it mattered to Luke. Since meeting Cassie, the SWAT sergeant hadn’t even looked at another woman. His wife and kids were his world. Ben used to feel a pang of envy at what his friend had—but not anymore. He could see that for himself on the horizon.

  “How the hell am I so fucking gone over this woman when I haven’t even known her a week?” he pondered out loud, then took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Because sometimes it works that way,” Luke smirked before digging into his own lunch. With a mouthful of food, he continued, “Which is why I’m wondering if Vegas is such a good idea.”

  “Fuck off, I’m not getting married.”

  Although the more he thought about it, the more he realized: He wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Harper

  She arrived at her house late Thursday evening as the sun was going down. It had been a long day—she’d gotten the favorable verdict late in the afternoon, as they’d expected, and returned to her office to tie up any loose ends before taking Friday and Monday off. When she finally looked up and saw the time, she realized it had kept her at work far longer than she’d intended.

  Except for Sunday night, she and Ben had slept in the same bed every night since they’d met—and she loved it. Coming home to an empty house, other than an excited Honey, had made her feel a little lonely.

  Harper couldn’t help but laugh, remembering how Honey’s joy at seeing her used to be the highlight of her day. Now, it was seeing Ben’s dimple and those twinkling eyes, sometimes blue, sometimes green—depending on what he was wearing, or, it seemed, what his mood was—right before he wrapped his muscular, tattooed arms around her and pulled her into his embrace for a kiss.

  When he was holding her, it was like all her troubles of the day melted away, at least for the night. She knew they’d be waiting for her in the morning—but when she was with him, she felt safe and content. Like she could just be, and Ben would take care of the rest.

  “It’s the honeymoon phase,” she chided herself out loud as she gathered Honey’s food bowl.

  Still, she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. How often in a girl’s life did she get the giddy feelings of new love? And Harper was fucking giddy—as evidenced by the way she dove for her bag when her phone started ringing from inside it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey baby girl. Are you home yet?”

  “I just finished feeding Honey.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No, I was going to heat up some leftovers.”

  “Well, damn,” he said with a chuckle. “How am I going to invite myself over if I can’t bring you food?”

  “Aw, babe. You don’t have to bring food for me to want to see you. I always want to see you.”

  “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Benji, that’s not possible. You have an open invitation. Always.”

  “Likewise, Scout.”

  “So, are you coming over tonight?” she asked hopefully, sitting down at the kitchen table.

  “Be there within the hour, baby girl.”

  Like she said, giddy.

  Then, forty-five minutes later, he walked through her garage door, and she felt like everything was right with the world. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation of what was coming next as he prowled straight to her, then as his arms came around her, her entire body relaxed while she breathed in his scent.

  “God, I fucking missed you today,” he growled.

  She let out a big sigh. “Me too.”

  “Congratulations on your verdict. Did you get everything done at the office that you needed to?”

  Harper nodded, her face against his chest. “I did. I’m all yours until Tuesday morning.”

  His hold on her tightened. “I’m not giving you back come Tuesday, so…”

  “Good,” she whispered. What a wonderful fantasy that was.

  “Did you eat yet?”

  She pulled away from his hug, instantly missing his warmth, and took a dish from the warming tray of her oven.

  “Yes, but I warmed up all the leftover Chinese in case you didn’t.”

  “Thanks, babe. I ate before I went to the gym, but I’m hungry now.”

  Ben sat down at the island and she placed the plate in front of him, along with silverware and a napkin, then came around behind him and hugged his biceps, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “I like it when you’re here,” she whispered.

  He set his fork down and spun around on the barstool, pulling her between his legs.

  “I like being here,” he replied quietly, then leaned over and kissed her gently. “Just so you know, though,” he said with an evil grin when he pulled away, “I’m going to do dirty things to you all weekend long. Dirty, dirty things.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and murmured into his ear, “I’m counting on it,” then stepped out of reach so he could finish his dinner.

  ****

  Ben

  He lay down on her comfortable mattress while she got ready for bed, waiting patiently with his arm behind his head. She came out of the en suite bathroom, rubbing lotion on her skin from her elbows to her hands and looking sexy as hell in her cami and boy shorts.

  Ben pulled the comforter and sheet back for her, muttering, “You are so damn beautiful,” when she got in next to him.

  She snuggled into his side, and he clicked the remote to shut the overhead light off. He was making sure not to keep her up all night—she was going to need her rest for the weekend.

  “Goodnight, Scout. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He couldn’t help but smile when he heard her soft snoring. For fuck’s sake—he even adored her snoring. As he kissed her hair, he wondered, how could I not?

  ****

  Vegas, baby. Hell yeah.

  But Vegas with Scout? There was nothing better.

  One, she was a horny drunk, which he already knew but was more than happy to accommodate this time. Two, she was a kickass blackjack player, knowing the exact time to walk away a big winner. And three, she was just plain fun. She laughed freely, openly enjoyed the sights and sounds, and goddamn was she smart.

  He found himself looking at her like Sloane had looked at Hannah the night of their engagement party. That’s how he knew by the time they went to bed Friday night—early Saturday morning, technically—that he was madly in love with her.

  On Saturday night they had run the blackjack table—or rather, Harper had—then walked hand-in-hand along the Strip, outside the Bellagio fountain between shows.

  Tugging on her hand to slow her down, he asked, “Do you wanna get married?”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I think I do again, eventually. I hope so, anyway.”

  “No, I mean tonight. Do you want to marry me? Here. Now.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

  “Are you serious?”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything. I’m so fucking in love with you, it makes my chest hurt.” Cupping her face, he continued, “It’s like my heart is going to explode from how happy you make me. I don’t want to be apart from you ever again. Not even for a single night.”

  She looked at the ground, as if contemplating his words, then finally looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

  His heart sank. He’d moved too fast, come on like a goddamn bulldozer just like he always did whenever he wanted something. Absolutely no finesse. Fuck!

  Then she whispered, “I’m so in love with you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Harper

  Ben picked her up and swung her around.

  “So is that a yes?” he asked eagerly, setting her down and bending his knees to look directly in her eyes.

  She took
a few steps so her arm was extended, and she swung their hands back and forth playfully.

  “That’s a ‘maybe someday.’ Not tonight, not this weekend. There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.” Like I have a possibly life-changing disease and won’t have your children. “Plus, we’d need a prenup.”

  He cocked his head and stilled her hand. “A prenup?”

  She walked closer to the fountain, trying to sound as casual as possible as she released his fingers, resisting the urge to wring hers together.

  “Yeah. I’m going to inherit a lot of money someday. My father is adamant about a prenup.”

  He was at her side in an instant, his hand on her arm.

  “You’re an attorney—draw one up. I’ll sign it right now.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at him.

  “You’re impossibly charming, you know that?”

  He gave her that panty-melting grin that showed off his dimple.

  “Yeah. I’d say it’s part of my charm, but that would be redundant.”

  She pulled away from him, laughing. “Oh my god, you’re impossible.”

  Reaching out, he tugged her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tight. His face became serious.

  “Marry me, Scout.”

  “We barely know each other!”

  “I know enough. I know I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “It’s only been a week, Benji. You can’t possibly know that.”

  “Best week of my fucking life. And I can too know. You know it, too—you’re just trying to be the sensible attorney. Throw caution to the wind, baby girl. Harper McCallister has a nice ring to it.”

  It did have a nice ring to it. She was starting to believe maybe it was possible—then he asked, “What’s your middle name?” and she pulled away. She couldn’t think straight when he held her in his arms.

  “See, that’s what I mean. We don’t even know each other’s middle names.”

  “Mine’s Charles,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And we’ll have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

  “That’s just it. What if we don’t like what we find?”

  “Harper…” He paused, waiting for her to fill in her middle name.

  “Jean,” she dutifully provided.

  “Harper Jean Louise Finch—”

  “How did you—?” She’d never told anyone her entire name.

  “Baby, it makes sense. You’re named after Harper Lee and her most famous character is Jean Louise Finch. Of course you’re Harper Jean Louise Finch, and even if you weren’t legally—you would be to me. So, as I was saying, Harper Jean Louise Finch, there’s nothing I could find out about you that would make me not want to marry you. Double negative aside.”

  “Dammit. It’s things like that. You look like this big, burly tough guy, and then you go knowing about literature and shit like double negatives. You’re impossible not to want to be with.”

  He shrugged. “So I don’t see the problem, then. You want to be with me; I want to be with you… Let’s get married.”

  She stroked the hair above his ear.

  “Let’s just agree to someday.”

  “Someday soon,” he corrected. “And we need to move in together when we get back to San Diego.”

  Harper couldn’t believe it, but she found herself agreeing. “My house or yours?”

  “Yours is nicer, and closer to Luke and Cassie. They can help babysit when we have kids.” Her back must have stiffened because he asked, “What?”

  She looked past him and said softly, “I can’t have kids.”

  Like water off a duck’s back, he simply shrugged and said, “We’ll adopt, then.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “Get used to it, babe.”

  If only she could.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ben

  He woke up before dawn Sunday morning, next to Harper in the hotel room, and wondered what the hell he’d done last night.

  Asking her to marry me—right then? What was I thinking?

  He didn’t even have alcohol to blame.

  The funny thing was he didn’t regret a second of it. He would have been thrilled to see a ring on his finger when he opened his eyes in the early light on Sunday. He loved her and wanted to be with her. Period.

  Goddamn, Luke called it. His friend knew him better than Ben gave him credit for.

  He picked up his phone from the side table and fired off a text as Harper snuggled deeper under the covers.

  Ben: Tried to marry Harper last night, she turned me down, but we’re moving in together once we get back.

  Ten seconds later his phone buzzed with a reply.

  Luke: I knew it! But I’m glad you didn’t. Moving in together first is smart. Even if it’s still pretty fast.

  Ben: You mean safe. Smart is marrying her and making her mine forever.

  Luke: Dude, if she’s the one, she’s not going anywhere. Fucking relax.

  Ben: Yeah, you’re right. I know. But it’s hard when you know you’ve found your forever.

  His phone buzzed again. From Cassie this time.

  Cassie: I will hold you down while Luke kicks your ass if you get married this weekend, but only because I want to be there when you do tie the knot!!! Congratulations! We LOVE Harper!

  He switched back to the conversation with Luke.

  Ben: Your wife’s happy for me, anyway.

  Luke: I know. She yelled so loud when she read your text over my shoulder, she woke Charlotte.

  Then he sent a reply to Cassie.

  Ben: Thanks. I can’t promise I won’t get married, because if she wakes up and says ‘let’s do this’ I’m doing it.

  Cassie: Love you, Ben. I’m so happy for you. Congrats again. And we’re going to be neighbors! Yay!!

  Harper started moving around, mumbling in her sleep.

  He sent a group text to the couple.

  I’m going to let you guys go. Gotta snuggle my future wife before she wakes up. See you when we get back.

  Cassie: Squuueeeeaaaal!

  Luke: Later. Have fun. REMAIN SINGLE. Let’s have dinner next week.

  He chuckled to himself. He loved those two; he was so glad they liked Harper. It was going to make his life a lot easier. He had hated not spending time with them when he was with Margo.

  Shit; Margo. Did he owe her an explanation or at least a head’s up that he was moving in with Harper? She was going to be hurt when she found out; it might be best if she found out from him. That was not a conversation he was in a hurry to have.

  ****

  Harper

  She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake Ben. The sun had risen, but wasn’t high in sky so it was still early.

  After washing her hands and brushing her teeth, she wiped away the mascara from under her eyes, then placed both hands on the counter and bowed her head while taking a deep breath.

  Ben had wanted her to marry him last night—and she’d actually considered it. Instead, they’d ‘settled’ on moving in together.

  The whole thing was ludicrous. She’d known him for eight days.

  Eight. Days.

  They couldn’t move in together. Not yet. It was too soon. She needed to tell him—first thing this morning when he woke up.

  Taking another deep breath, she nodded at herself in the mirror to confirm her decision, then shut the light off and went back into the room. She let her eyes adjust, and with the little light coming through the curtains, she could see Ben was still sleeping. The sheet was around his waist with one muscular thigh peeking out, his broad chest on full display. One arm was behind his head, under the pillow. He was Adonis incarnate.

  As she crawled back next to him, she bargained with herself.

  Okay, maybe I won’t tell him this morning, but for sure before we go back to San Diego tomorrow.

  His arms came around her
possessively and he pulled her into his warmth in a spooning position.

  Definitely before he starts moving his things in.

  His lips began softly caressing the back of her neck, and his right hand began to knead her right breast. His thick thigh separated hers as it came up between them and applied pressure to her pussy.

  Reaching around to run her fingers through his hair and pull him closer, she realized, Maybe living together isn’t such a bad idea.

  Especially if they woke up like this every morning.

  As if reading her mind, Ben groaned against her skin, “God, I love waking up next to you. The smell of your neck…” He inhaled deeply and dramatically before kissing her neck then rolled her nipple between his fingers. “How good your tits feel…” Flipping her onto her back with a devilish grin, he kneeled between her thighs that he’d opened wide. “The taste of your pussy…”

  She was wet before he even dipped his head to slowly lick her up one side and down the other.

  As he pushed one finger inside her, he continued, “How tight your pussy is…” then began to slide in and out. With his other hand, he pulled the hood of her clit back and began swirling his tongue around it. She moaned and arched her hips, and he lifted his head with a smirk.

  “How fat your clit is…”

  He resumed pleasuring her with his mouth and methodically added a second digit. He began to finger-fuck her faster, until she was on the brink of an orgasm.

  “When you come on my hand like a good little slut…” he snarled into her pussy before rapidly flicking her clit with his tongue in rhythm with his fingers.

  “Come, now,” he growled as he fucked her faster.

  And like the good slut she apparently was, she did as he commanded and came all over his hand, gasping and moaning, gripping her tits as she arched her back off the bed.

  “Fuuuuck, that was sexy,” he whispered in awe as he looked up at her.

  “Think you can make me do that again?” she half-panted, half-purred.

  Ben grabbed her thighs, tugged her down the bed toward him, and pushed his cock deep inside her.

  “I’m sure gonna try.”