Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  “Poor thing.”

  “And he worries constantly about things other kids don’t understand.”

  I rolled onto my side and propped my head on my hand. “What does he worry about?”

  “God, some days the list is endless. The weather, the schedule, his schoolwork. Crowds. Storms. The dark. Loud noises. Washing and brushing his hair. Hot food.”

  “Wow.” I wanted to ask if Scotty had been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder or even OCD, but I also wanted to preserve the casual, friendly feel of our conversation. I was curious about his son, and my natural instincts were to help, but I wasn’t his doctor and didn’t want to act like it. Mostly I was just listening for Levi, to give him an ear without weighing in.

  “And then there are his obsessive interests.”

  “Which are what?”

  “Baseball stats, for one.”

  “Well, that’s pretty typical for his age, right?”

  “No. When the average second grader wants to talk about baseball, he wants to recap the awesome win from the night before or maybe say who their favorite players are. Scotty wants to recite the list of top MLB career batting averages, like fifty of them, complete with years played, games played, at bats, hits, runs, and RBI’s.”

  “Whoa. He has all that memorized?”

  “Completely. And hardcore eight-year-old fans might know names like Ty Cobb or Joe Jackson, but even they don’t really care about what happened in baseball in 1915. In St. Louis. On a Tuesday.”

  I laughed. “What else is he interested in?”

  “Dinosaurs and Franz Liszt.”

  I laughed again. I couldn’t help it. “Baseball and dinosaurs, I understand. But Franz Liszt? The composer?”

  Levi chuckled too. “Yes. He loves classical music. He went through a Mozart phase, then a Bach, then a Vivaldi. Now it’s Liszt.”

  “Have you taken him to the symphony?”

  “Not yet. I want to, but I’m worried—one, about the volume level, and two, about the crowd. Same with a Tiger game.”

  “Well, he sounds like a very smart, interesting, well-rounded kid.”

  “He is. I wish more people knew him like I did. I worry that will never happen.”

  Something squeezed my heart. “Sounds like you have a lot of worries too.”

  “I guess so, but what parent doesn’t? And maybe I’m making it sound worse than it is. We have plenty of good days too, including today. Anyway, I better get him refocused on math again.”

  “Of course. Sorry to keep you with all my questions.”

  “No, I’m glad you did. Thanks for asking. And for listening.”

  “Any time. I’m looking forward to Friday.”

  “Me too. And Jillian…” He sighed. “I’m sorry if I got a little overexcited about sex. I probably shouldn’t say all that to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to a woman this way, I don’t even remember what I’m doing. I’m like a fucking teenage boy. You’re going to think I’m no different than the asshole who couldn’t last five minutes in the closet.”

  I laughed. “Hardly. I don’t think that at all. I think you’re like me. Really focused on one part of your life, so focused that the other parts feel like muscles we haven’t used in a while.”

  “Exactly. But I promise I’ve learned a few things since the closet.”

  “Guess what?” I whispered. “I have too.”

  He groaned. “OK, I’m really going now. Or I never will.”

  “Night, Levi.”

  “Night.”

  I ended the call and dropped the phone next to me. A date. A date! One that I was actually excited about—when was the last time that had happened?

  I frowned, thinking about the last few dates I’d been on. I hadn’t even shaved my legs for those, but for Levi…

  Scooping up my phone again, I made a note to call the salon on Tuesday and schedule a bikini wax. A full Brazilian.

  I didn’t do anything halfway.

  Eight

  Levi

  Of course, I was fucking late. I’d been looking forward to seeing her all week long, we hardly had enough time to begin with, and I was fucking late.

  But a client meeting had run long, which meant I was late getting to the bus stop to meet Scotty, which made him late for swim therapy and threw his whole sense of equilibrium off for the day, and even Sarah had a hard time getting him settled. He clung to my waist as I left, and I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for thinking, Let go, champ, Daddy wants to go get laid.

  Not that I was positive I’d get laid. In fact, as I sped toward Low Bar, my dick perking up at the mere thought of getting inside her, I told myself to calm the fuck down. Maybe she wants to get to know each other a little better before getting naked, which is perfectly normal, and probably a good idea, so don’t go charging at her like a bull at a red cape. Be a goddamn gentleman. Can you do that?

  I could do that. I could be a gentleman. A gentleman with a raging hard-on, but a gentleman.

  I parked on a side street and grabbed my jacket from the passenger seat, adjusting myself in my jeans before shutting the door and locking the car. Shrugging into my jacket as I hurried down the block, I hoped she hadn’t been sitting there for too long, although she seemed like the kind of person who liked to be punctual.

  In front of the door, I was tempted to stop, take a breath, run a hand through my hair, fix my cuffs, and stroll in all cool and casual, like a badass.

  But that just wasn’t me.

  I threw open the door and rushed down into the dark, intimate bar, stopping for just a moment to give my eyes time to adjust to the candlelight. As soon as I saw her, standing behind a stool at the bar, hanging a jacket over the back, I strode toward her.

  “Jillian.”

  She looked up and smiled. God, she was so fucking pretty. Was she really here waiting for me? “Hey you.”

  “Hey. I’m so sorry I’m late. An afternoon meeting ran long, which threw off the entire rest of the day for Scotty, and…” I shook my head. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. You’re here. I just got here too.”

  I slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her close, pressing my lips to her cheek. “I’m here. And you’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She slid onto her chair, and I eyed her legs as she crossed them. She had on a tight gray dress with short sleeves and a knee-length hem, black heels, and pearls at her throat. Jillian’s curves were subtle, but the dress hugged every last one of them, and those legs were begging to be slung over my shoulders.

  Easy there, caveman. Sit down. Order a drink. Say words. Make nice.

  I took the seat next to her, and she slid the cocktail menu toward me. “I haven’t ordered yet, but I’ve looked at this already.”

  “You’re much nicer than I am,” I said, dropping my keys and phone into my pocket. “I probably would’ve slammed two drinks by now and bitched to the bartender about how inconsiderate people can be.”

  She laughed. “Really. No big deal.”

  I called the bartender over and gestured for Jillian to go first.

  “I’d like Blue Coat gin, please. Up with a twist, and I like it extra dry. In and out with the vermouth.”

  I ordered a Sazerac and turned to face her. “I’ve never heard a woman so particular about her martini.”

  She shrugged guilelessly. “I know what I want.”

  “I like that about you. You’re discerning.”

  “Some might even call it picky.”

  I grinned. “Then I’ll take it as a compliment you’re even here. Tell me about your week.”

  She sat up taller, clasping her hands around her knee. “It was good. I’d have liked to get a little more exercise, but it’s hard to make myself get up at five and go to the gym, and by the time I leave work around seven or eight, I’m usually too tired. And already craving a glass of wine.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I’m not very disciplined.”

  “You’re a doctor working long hours. I’d say that takes discipline.”

  “Thanks. How was your week?”

  “Pretty good. Busy. I’m working on a vacation house in Harbor Springs, so I had to make a trip up there and back in one day, which was a little hectic.”

  “I love that area. We used to ski there all the time when I was younger.”

  I nodded. “We did too. Every year I say I’m going to go again, and I never do.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “I do the exact same.”

  “Oh yeah? We should promise each other we’ll go together. And hold the other accountable.”

  “Deal.” She held out her pinkie, and I stared at it. “Come on, give me your pinkie.”

  Laughing, I hooked mine through hers. “What’s this, a pinkie swear?”

  “Yes,” she said, her face grave. “It’s how the Nixon sisters seal deals, and we take it very, very seriously.”

  “You have my word. We will go skiing.” I squeezed her tiny finger with mine—not too hard, since I probably could have snapped the delicate bones—and allowed myself the brief fantasy of making out with her in an outdoor hot tub while it snowed.

  Then I had to adjust my pants again.

  She took a small sip of her martini. “How was Scotty’s week? Get that math homework done?”

  I groaned. “Barely. Homework is always a struggle. But he had a good week too, I think. There was one episode at school where he got frustrated and threw his pencil, but nothing major.”

  “Good.”

  “The thing is, he notices the difference between himself and the other kids now, academically. He compares himself and sees that he struggles to do basic things they breeze through.”

  “Poor thing. Any word on the IEP?”

  I clenched my jaw. “No. And I’ve called every day for two weeks. I’m beginning to think I need to just go in there and be an asshole until I get an answer on what’s taking so long.”

  She sipped her drink again. “Have they told you what the holdup is?”

  “I’ve been told it’s ‘administrative,’ which I think is code for bullshit. And I hate to be a jerk about it, but…” I shrugged. “I have to. I’m the only soldier he’s got. He won’t fight for himself. He just gives up.”

  She set down her glass and patted my shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing. At least, I think you are.”

  “Thanks. OK, enough about that. Tell me something fun you did this week.”

  She tilted her head to one side and chewed her bottom lip as she thought. “Oh! I attended a sign language workshop. We have a few patients and parents at the office who use it, so I decided to learn some basics.”

  “Oh yeah? I know a little sign language. It was part of Scotty’s speech therapy when he was younger.” I set my drink down and signed a few words at her, the only ones I could remember, which were basic things like please, more, play, toy, Dad. “Know what I’m saying?”

  She looked adorably baffled. “Nope,” she confessed, laughing a little. “I have no idea.”

  “Good, because it’s so dirty.”

  Squealing, she grabbed my hands and pushed them down between us. “Hush, then. What if someone in here speaks sign language?”

  “Then they’d know what I want to do to you right now.”

  Her jaw dropped. Our eyes stayed locked. “Like what?” she whispered.

  “You sure you want to hear it out loud?”

  She took a breath. “Maybe you could whisper it to me.”

  I leaned toward her and put my lips to her ear. “I want to set you up on this bar, throw your legs over my shoulders, and bury my tongue in your pussy.”

  She gasped and brought a hand to her stomach.

  So much for the gentleman.

  “Then I want to pull you onto my lap and watch you slide down onto my cock.”

  She made a small noise just then, something between a sigh and a squeak.

  “I’d like to make you come so hard you forget to breathe. Would you like that?” I brushed my lips against her throat, just beneath her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Fuck, you smell good,” I said, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and neck. Glancing down, I saw her chest rising and falling fast, her breasts straining against the material of her dress. I saw her hands flexing on her lap. And I saw those pearls at her throat, pictured her wearing them—and only them—while I slid into her.

  Oh fuck. My cock is so hard right now.

  I sat up straight and looked at her. “I’m just going to be honest, Jillian. I wish I had all night with you, but I don’t. I only have another hour, maybe. I’d be happy to spend it right here talking to you, if that’s what you want, but—”

  “I want you.” She leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I want you right now.”

  By the time she got to now, I was pulling out my wallet and tossing bills on the bar.

  She stood up and threw her jacket over her arm, and I grabbed her hand as we raced through the bar, out the door, and up onto the sidewalk. “I’m parked over there,” she said breathlessly.

  “I’m the other way.”

  She gave me her address, and I took her head in both hands, kissing her hard before turning around to run down the street. No joke, I ran.

  It was possibly the most uncool thing I have ever done in my life, but fuck it, I wanted to do things right this go around and that took time. I had maybe an hour, and I wasn’t about to waste a precious minute of it walking to my car.

  That was one more minute I could have making her scream, and I intended to use it.

  Nine

  Jillian

  The way Levi raced down the street reminded me of the way my sisters and I used to tear down the stairs on Christmas morning to see if Santa had come. I couldn’t help giggling as I hurried to my car as quickly as I could without tripping on the sidewalk in my heels. I was just as anxious as he was, but skinned knees were not sexy.

  As fast as I flew home, Levi must have driven even faster, because a black Audi SUV was already parked in front of my building when I pulled up, and he jumped out of it a second later. Deciding not to bother with the garage, I parked next to it, and Levi came around to open my car door. As soon as I stood up, he grabbed me, crushing his lips to mine, his hands threading through my hair. Pushing me back against my car, he pressed his lower body into me, and I felt the bulge in his pants through my dress as his tongue stroked inside my mouth, and it made me want to wrap my legs around him.

  “Inside,” I whispered. “Or we’re going to give my neighbors a show they weren’t expecting and don’t deserve.”

  At the front door, he stood behind me while I fumbled with the lock, kissing the back of my neck and unzipping my dress while my shaky hands tried desperately to get the key in. The moment it turned and the door opened, I moved inside the dark hallway and turned around, dropping everything I held and throwing my arms around his neck.

  Our mouths came together, hot and impatient, our tongues meeting between open lips. He pushed the door shut behind him and kept moving forward. “Where,” he growled.

  “This way.” Without breaking the kiss, I walked backward down the hall and into my first-floor bedroom. Along the way, Levi shed his dark brown jacket and shoes, and I kicked off my heels. Inside my room, where the shades were pulled and a bedside lamp glowed softly, he lifted my dress over my head and tossed it onto my dresser.

  His eyes, black as night and ravenous enough to make me shiver, roved over my entire body. My wardrobe might be conservative, but I had a small collection of exquisite, provocative French lingerie—one of my favorite little secrets—and beneath my dress I’d worn a beautiful black lace bra and panty set.

  “Jesus, you wore that to work?”

  I smiled. “Yes, but I kept my dress on there.”

  He ran his hands down the sides of my arms, making my whole body shiver. “Cold?”

 
“No. Just anxious.” I slid my hands up the front of his shirt and started on the buttons.

  “Jillian, wait.” He grabbed my hands, pinning them to his chest. “I want this so badly, but I don’t want to—” He broke off, his face uncertain. “I feel like I’m always rushing you. I told myself not to act like a fucking caveman tonight, and just take you out for a nice drink, and here I am in your bedroom tearing your clothes off.”

  “You’re not rushing me.” Rising up on tiptoe, I kissed him softly, my body aching for his touch. “I want this just as badly as you do, Levi. Maybe more.”

  “Impossible.” Letting my hands go, Levi pushed one bra strap aside and kissed my bare shoulder, the other hand running down my side, over my hip, then up my inner thigh. “I could hardly concentrate at work. If you see a vacation house shaped like an erection in Petoskey, you’ll know that was the one I worked on this week.”

  Laughing gently, I slipped one hand around his lower back and let the other slide down the front of his jeans and over the tight, hard bulge threatening to bust the seam. “Funny, I was thinking about an erection all week too. Bet it was the same one.”

  He groaned as he edged his fingers beneath the lace of my panties and felt how wet I was.

  “I fucking love the lace,” he whispered. “I almost want to leave it on.”

  “So leave it on.”

  “Next time.” He bent down to drag my panties down my legs. “I want to see you this time. Twice now, you’ve made me come without even seeing your naked body…and those are just the times you know about. But the pearls…” He straightened and touched the necklace I wore. “The pearls can stay.”

  I stepped out of my panties as he reached behind me, unhooking my bra with one hand. I let it fall as his hand slid between my legs again. His hands, his hands…I couldn’t stop thinking about them.