After Ever Happy (After #4) (47 page)

When closing comes, I’m the last one out. I assured Robert that I would be fine if he left early to get drinks with the other servers. I have a feeling that when I walk out of the restaurant, Hardin will be waiting anyway.

A
nd I’m right. There, leaning against the wall with the fake Banksy graffiti, is Hardin.

“You didn’t tell me that Delilah and Samantha are roommates” is the first sentence out of his mouth. He’s smiling, that smile where his nose turns up at the end because his smile is so big.

“Yeah, it’s a mess.” I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “Especially since those aren’t their names, and you know it.”

Hardin laughs. “That is some good shit, though. What are the fucking odds of that?” He lifts his hand to his chest, and his laughter shakes his body. “This is some straight-up soap-opera shit.”

“Who are you telling?
I
have to deal with it. Poor Landon, though, you should have seen his face when we met Sophia and her friends for drinks the night he found out. He almost fell out of the chair.”

“This is too much.” Hardin chuckles.

“Don’t laugh about it in front of Landon; he’s having a hard time dealing with the two of them.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Hardin rolls his eyes.

Just then the wind picks up, and Hardin’s long hair starts blowing around his head. I can’t help but point up at it and laugh. It’s safer than the alternative: asking Hardin why he’s in the city to begin with.

“My hair looks better like this and gives women more to pull,” he teases, but the words drive straight through me.

“Oh,” I say, but laugh along, not wanting him to know that my head is spinning and my chest is aching at the thought of anyone else touching him.

“Hey.” He reaches for me, turns me around to look at him as if we were alone on the sidewalk. “I was joking, a shitty, stupid, really fucking dumb joke.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” I smile up at him, tucking my blowing hair behind my ear.

“You may be all independent and fearless enough to hang out with homeless men, but you’re still a shit liar,” he says, calling me out.

I try to keep the mood light. “Hey, don’t go talking about Joe. He’s my friend.” I stick my tongue out at Hardin as we pass a couple making out on a bench.

Loud enough for them to hear, Hardin says, “Five bucks says he has his hand up her skirt in less than two minutes.”

I playfully shove at his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around my waist. “Don’t get too touchy—Joe will ask questions!” I wiggle my brows at Hardin, and he bursts into laughter.

“What is it with you and homeless men?”

Thoughts of my father fill my mind, and I stop laughing for a beat.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

I hold my hand up and smile. “No, it’s okay. Really, let’s just hope Joe doesn’t turn out to be my uncle.” Hardin stares at me as if I’ve grown another set of eyes, and I laugh at him. “I’m fine! I can take a joke now. I have learned not to take myself so seriously.”

He seems pleased with that, and he even smiles at Joe when I hand him his bag of catfish and hush puppies.

THE APARTMENT IS DARK
when we get back. Landon has most likely been asleep for a few hours.

“Have you eaten?” I ask Hardin when he follows me into the kitchen.

Hardin sits down at the two-person table and lifts his elbows onto the surface. “No, actually, I haven’t. I was going to steal that bag of food, but Joe beat me to it.”

“I can make you something? I’m hungry, too.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m dipping my finger into the vodka sauce, testing the flavor.

“You going to share that?” Hardin asks from behind me. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve eaten something off of your finger,” he teases with a smirk. “The icing was one of my favorite flavors of Tessa.”

“You remember that?” I offer him some sauce on a spoon.

“I remember everything, Tessa. Well, everything that I wasn’t too drunk or high during.” A frown takes over his teasing smile, and I dip my finger into the spoon and offer it to him. It does the job, and his smile returns.

His tongue is warm on my finger, and his eyes are pouring into mine when he licks the sauce from the tip. Pulling my finger between his lips, he sucks again and continues long after the sauce is gone.

My finger on his lips, he says, “I was going to talk to you about something. It involves what you said about me remembering things.”

But the way his soft lips are moving on my skin distracts me. “Right now?”

“Soon, doesn’t have to be tonight,” he whispers, his tongue darting out to wet the tip of my middle finger, too.

“What are we doing?”

“You’ve asked me that too many times.” He smiles, getting up.

“We haven’t seen each other in so long. This isn’t a good idea,” I say, not meaning a damn word of it.

“I’ve missed you, and I’ve been waiting for
you
to miss you, too.” His hand is on my hip, resting there, pressing against the fabric of my work shirt. “I don’t like seeing you in all black. It doesn’t suit you.” He leans his head down and nudges my jaw with his nose.

My fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt, clumsily slipping over the small plastic beads. “I’m happy that
you
didn’t show up in another color.”

He smiles against my cheek. “I haven’t changed much, Tess. Just got a few doctors, hit the gym more.”

“You still don’t drink?” I drop my shirt to the floor behind us, and he backs me into the counter.

“A little, yes. Usually only wine or a light beer. But, no, I’m never going to chug a bottle of vodka again.”

My skin is on fire, and my brain is slowly trying to make sense of how we got here, all these months later, with my hands waiting for permission to remove his shirt. He seems to read my thoughts and lifts my hands in his and pushes them into the thin material.

“It’s our anniversary month, you know?” he says as I pull his shirt over his head and take in the sight of his bare chest.

My eyes scan over the area, looking for new designs, and I’m happy to find only the leaves—
ferns,
I believe Hardin called them. They look like odd-shaped leaves to me, with thick sides and a long stem coming out of the bottom. “We don’t have an anniversary month, you insane man.” I find myself trying to get a glimpse at his back, yet am embarrassed when he catches on and turns around.

“Yes, we do,” he disagrees. “Still only yours on my back,” he briefly explains while I stare at the newly developed muscles in his shoulders and back.

“I’m glad.” I quietly admit, my mouth dry.

His eyes are full of amusement. “Have you went wild and gotten yourself a tattoo yet?”

“No.” I swat at him, and he backs up against the counter and reaches for me.

“Are you okay with me touching you this way?”

“Yes,” my mouth confesses before my brain has the time to agree.

He uses one hand to trail his fingers over the top lining of my tank top. “What about like this?”

I nod.

My heart is hammering through my chest to the point I’m convinced that he can hear it. I feel so in tune, so alive and awake, and starved for his touch. It’s been so long, and here he is in front of me, saying and doing the things I used to love so much. Only this time, he is a little more cautious, more patient.

“I’ve needed you so much, Tess.” His mouth is less than two inches from mine; his fingers are drawing slow circles on the bare skin of my shoulders. I feel drunk, my head is cloudy.

When his lips reach mine, I’m dragged back under. I’m taken to that place where only Hardin exists, only his fingers on my skin, only his lips caressing mine, only his teeth nipping at the corners of my mouth, only the soft groans sounding from his throat when I unbutton his jeans.

“Are you trying to use me for sex again?” He smiles against my mouth, pushing his tongue to cover mine so that I can’t respond. “Teasing,” he mumbles and presses his body completely against mine. My arms move around his neck, and my fingers lace through his hair.

“If I wasn’t a gentleman, I would fuck you right here on this counter.” His hands cup both of my breasts, his fingers hooking under the straps of my bra and tank top. “I would lift you up here, slide these hideous pants down your legs, spread your thighs, and take you right here.”

“You said you weren’t a gentleman,” I breathlessly remind him.

“I changed my mind. I’m a half gentleman now,” he teases.

I’m so wound up that I’m beginning to think I may combust and make a mess of the kitchen. I push my hand down his boxers, and my eyes roll back when he says, “Fuck, Tess.”

“A
half
? What does that mean?” I moan when his fingers slide easily past the loose waist of my pants.

“That means, regardless of how badly I want you, how fucking badly I want to fuck you on this counter and make you scream my name so the entire block knows who is making you come”—he sucks at the skin down the column of my neck—“I won’t be doing any of that until the day you marry me.”

My hands freeze, one down his boxers, and the other on his back. “What?” I croak, clearing my throat.

“You heard me. I won’t be fucking you until you marry me.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”
Please don’t be serious. He couldn’t be; we have barely spoken in months. He has to be teasing. Right?

“Not even close to joking. No bullshit.” His eyes dance with amusement, and I literally stomp my foot against the tile floor.

“But we aren’t . . . we haven’t even . . .” I gather my hair into one hand and try to make sense of what he’s saying.

“Oh, you didn’t think I would give up so easily, did you?” He leans in and touches his lips to my burning cheek. “Don’t you know me at all?” His smile makes me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“But you
did
give up.”

“No, I’m giving you space just like you forced me to do. I’m trusting your love for me to bring you back to center, eventually.” He raises one brow and brings out that smile and those evil dimples. “You are taking a long-ass time, though.”

What the hell?
“But . . .” I am literally at a loss for words.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” He laughs and lifts his hands to cup my cheeks. “Will you sleep on the couch with me again? Or will that be too tempting for you?”

I roll my eyes and follow him into the living room, trying to understand how any of this could possibly make sense to him, or to me. There are so many things to talk about, so many questions, so many answers.

But for now, I’m going to fall asleep on the couch with Hardin and pretend that everything could be right in my world for once.

G
ood morning, baby,” I hear from somewhere nearby.

When I open my eyes, black ink in the shape of a swallow is the first thing I see. Hardin’s skin has a deeper tan than ever before, and the muscles across his chest are much more prominent than they were when I last saw him. He’s always been incredibly good-looking, but he looks better than ever now, and it’s the sweetest form of torture to be lying here, against his bare chest, with one of his arms wrapped around my back and the other lifting to brush the hair back from my face.

“Morning.” I rest my chin on his chest, giving me the perfect angle to admire his face.

“Sleep well?” His fingers are gently gliding over my hair, and his smile is still perfectly in place.

“Yes.” I close my eyes for a moment to clear my brain, which has suddenly turned to mush at the sound of his raspy, sleepy voice. Even his accent feels more intense, more distinct. Damn him.

Without another word, he rests the tip of his thumb on my lips.

I open my eyes when I hear Landon’s bedroom door open, and when I move to sit up, Hardin wraps his arms tighter around me. “No, you don’t.” He laughs. He pushes up from the couch and lifts his body, bringing mine with it.

Landon enters the living room, shirtless, with Sophia trailing behind him. She’s dressed in her work clothes from last night; the black uniform accompanied with a bright smile suits her well.

“Hey.” Landon’s cheeks flush, and Sophia reaches for his hand and smiles at me. I think I catch a wink from her, but I’m still a little cloudy from waking up with Hardin.

She leans up and presses a soft kiss to Landon’s cheek. “I’ll call you after my shift.”

The thick patches of hair on Landon’s face are something I’m still getting used to, but the look is good on him. He smiles down at Sophia and opens the front door for her.

“Well, now we know why Landon didn’t come out of his room last night,” Hardin whispers into my ear, his breath hot against me.

Oversensitive and wound up, I try again to remove my body from his. “I need coffee,” I argue.

Those must be the magic words, because he nods and allows me to climb off his lap. The loss of contact has an immediate effect on my body, but I force myself to make it to the coffeemaker.

I ignore the way Landon shakes his head while smiling, and I walk into the kitchen. The skillet from last night, full of uneaten vodka sauce, is still on the stove, and when I pull open the oven, I find the pan of chicken breasts still inside.

I don’t remember turning the oven or stove off, but then again, I wasn’t thinking much last night. My brain didn’t seem to want to think past Hardin and the way his lips felt against mine after months of deprivation. My skin flames from the reminder of it, the gentle way he touched me, worshipping my body.

“Good thing I turned the heat off, right?” Hardin enters the kitchen, sweats hung low on his hips. His new tattoos accent the plane of his torso, drawing my eyes to the bottom of his sculpted abdomen.

“Uhm, yeah.” I clear my throat and try to decide why I’m suddenly so hormonal. I feel the way I did when I first met him, and that worries me. It’s always so easy to fall back into the dysfunctional pattern that is Hessa, but I have to keep my head clear here.

“What time do you work today?” Hardin leans against the counter opposite me and watches as I begin to work on cleaning up the mess.