Fearless For Love (Lovelly #3) (26 page)

WHEN I WAKE up the next morning, the spot next to me is empty. I roll off the bed, taking the sheet with me. The sensation between my legs is a sweet reminder of what happened between Harrington and me last night, and I grin as my cheeks heat, reliving the moment in my head. I rummage through his closet and find one of his shirts, pulling it over my head and letting the bedsheet fall.

I then shuffle my way toward the kitchen. “Harry?”

When I don’t hear a response, I continue on into the living room, looking around and listening for any trace of him. As I turn toward the TV, a pink sticky-note catches my eye. I peel it off and read out loud:

Out for a run
.

—
Harry

I smile.
Harry
. He used to hate it when I called him that, and I realize I still don’t actually know why. But I’m glad he’s coming around to it. Somehow, his acceptance of it makes me feel special. I press the letter to my chest. We’ve come so far in these past few weeks.

I grab my phone from my purse and head back to his room while I check for messages. It’s Sunday morning, and I know Cat will be livid that I haven’t checked in with her.

I mean, I was out on a date with
Harrington
, after all.

As suspected, she texted a whole bunch of times last night. Like two scroll’s worth. I send her a quick reply, telling her that yes, I’m alive, and yes, I’m at Harrington’s, before I step into the shower.

A few minutes later, I leave the warmth of the cascading water and hear my phone buzz. I finish drying off and wrap the towel around me before I check it.

Cat:
You
.
Are
.
Still
.
At
.
His
.
Place
.

Me:
Yup
.

Knowing I don’t have much time, I quickly pull the shirt I was wearing earlier back over my head, enjoying the feel of his clothes on my freshly washed skin. Then I pick up my phone and head to his room, just as it starts to ring.

“These are the kinds of things you tell me before you even say hello. Not fifty minutes into our conversation,” Cat says, clearly annoyed. “I mean, come on! It’s in the Best Friends Guide.
Especially
when I was the one rooting for you to get those cobwebs cleared.”

My face heats, and I wonder if it’s possible to catch my hair on fire. “You—”

“Wait. He spent the night with you?”

“Yes—”

“And you guys slept in the same room?”

“Yes—” I roll my eyes.

“And shared the bed . . . ?”

“Yes, but—”

“I swear to all things Heaven and Hell, if you tell me you didn’t get a taste of the hotdog, nor he a taste of the pie—”

“Cat!” I gasp. “Haven’t you heard of censorship?”

“Don’t you ‘
Cat
’
me, bitch. If I had that boy in my bed, I wouldn’t be doing anything but bumping uglies for a month.”

I snort and sit down on the edge of the unmade bed. “Don’t let Fisher hear you say that.”

“Who?”

I roll my eyes and bend over to grab the sheet I left piled in the middle of the floor, setting it absently behind me. “Where did I even find you?”

“At Blue Tango, about four months back, when you came groveling for a room to stay in.”

“I wasn’t groveling.” I defend myself. “I was desperate, but definitely
not
groveling.”

She giggles. “Tell me that you guys at least got to base two.”

I wonder what she’d do if I told her he took me to the stars last night. My face heats just thinking about it. “I’m
so
not discussing this with you.”

“Fine. Be that way, party pooper!” Then I hear a squeal, followed by a thump. “Let me go, jackass!” She giggles. “I’m still talking to her.”

“Maybe if you hang up, Killshot might have a chance,” Fisher responds in the background. The noise devolves into more giggling and rustling fabric, and I’m pretty sure I hear the smack of kissing.

“Oh god,” I groan, hanging up the phone. I can’t believe he just said that. My sex life is no one’s business but my own.

“Well. That’s interesting.” Harrington’s voice startles me.

“Harry . . .” I look up, my hand over my heart. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to know something’s got you flustered.” He saunters his way into the room, exuding so much confidence and . . . swagger.

The bed dips as he sits at the edge of it. “God, I’d pay you a hundred dollars just to see what had you blushing like that. And whatever else you want if you let me do it to you.”

I smirk. “Only a hundred bucks?”

He pulls out his wallet and looks through the cash inside. “How about . . . one hundred and eighteen dollars?”

“Well, that doesn’t make me feel cheap or anything.”

He leans forward and I scoot back on the bed. He closes the distance between us until I’m lying on my back with him hovering over me, occupying all of my space and air. “Sweetheart. That money is just for what’s in your thoughts. I’d never pay you for the other things I’m dying to do to you. That’s free of charge.”

“Hmm . . .” My response is so weak, I’m not certain it even leaves my mind.

He leans down the same time I push up on my elbows to meet him halfway. Our mouths collide and all thoughts disappear.

Somewhere in the background, I hear the buzzing of my phone. Ignoring it, I wrap my arms around Harrington’s neck and pull him to me, kissing him with hot, searing passion, pressing myself hard against him.

When the buzzing sound goes off again, I pull back. Harrington groans in protest. He tackles me, squeezing my waist under the t-shirt.

“I really like you in my shirt,” he says with a wicked smirk. His hands travel up my thigh.

I whimper and close my eyes, the moments from last night coming to life behind my eyelids.

“And I like it even more that you’re fucking naked under here.” Just as his fingers touch the tender skin between my legs, the phone buzzes once more.

“Wait. Phone.” I push against his chest. “Let me at least turn it off.”

He hangs his head into the crook of my neck and takes a deep breath. “Just give me a sec.” One . . . two . . . three seconds later, he rolls to the side and I reach for my phone.

“What’s wrong?” Harrington asks, looking at me with mild concern.

I shake my head. “I swear I heard it buzzing, but I don’t have any missed calls or texts.”

He places a hand over my forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

I swat at his hand.

He grins. “I must have screwed your brains out last night a lot more than I thought.” He winks.

I glare. “You’re better company when you aren’t talking.”

His teeth are in full view as he grins wide. “Well then, why don’t you come over here and shut me up?”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re wrong. I wouldn’t like it at all.” He reaches for my waist and tugs me forward. In one quick swoop, I’m straddling him—a position I’m starting to be quite fond of.

“I wouldn’t just
like
it, Jess.” He runs his fingers through my hair until his hand is cupping my neck, a lopsided grin on his perfect lips. “I’d love it too fucking much.”

I bite my lower lip to keep from flashing my own teeth in a wide grin. “You’re so lucky that I like you, Mr. Lovelly.”

“And I you, Ms. Owens.”

I lean forward, ready to swoop in for another kiss, when I hear the buzzing sound again. I pause, bent halfway forward toward Harrington. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that.”

His eyebrows knit together and he looks around the room, confused as much as I am. The buzzer goes off again.

“It’s
your
phone!” I unstraddle him, smiling. “Ha! I’m not hearing things after all, Mr. I Screwed Your Brains Out.”

“What are you doing?” He asks, reaching for me as I scoot farther away from him.

“Someone’s dying to get a hold of you. You should answer it.”

He shrugs. “If it’s really that important, they’ll leave a message. Now get back here, woman, and let me take your breath away.”

I hop off the bed and take a step back, grinning. “I’m starving. So while you take that call, I’ll go make us breakfast.” I walk backward toward the door, making sure to sway my hips in the process.

He groans. “You evil witch.”

I look over my shoulder and suppress a laugh at how desperately he looks toward me. “Be right back.” Without another second to waste, I head into the kitchen. I pull open the fridge and look for ingredients. When I find nothing appealing, I go for the cabinets and find a box of pancake mix. Deciding that will do, I go about gathering the rest of the ingredients and cookingware I’ll need.

Fifteen minutes later, Harrington comes out of his room. Although he doesn’t say anything, I can tell something is bothering him.

I flip the last of the pancakes and turn around. “What’s wrong?”

He smiles, but that smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “That was my dad.”

“Oh.” I walk up to him and take his hand in mine, giving it a quick squeeze. I know he doesn’t have the best relationship with his dad, so I understand the anger and indifference he’s feeling right now. And I want him to know I’m on his side. “What did he want?”

“He’s here,” he says, and then hesitates, confused, like he’s still trying to comprehend what he heard. “In town.”

My eyebrows shoot upward. “I thought your family didn’t know where you were?”

“They don’t.” He shakes his head. “How the hell did he find me? I mean, calling me non-stop is one thing, but showing up here . . .”

“Maybe he’s desperate to talk to you, Harry,” I offer softly.

He looks at me like I’ve betrayed him somehow, his face stricken.

Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, I quickly add, “If you do talk to him, you could ask him how the hell he found you.”

He looks away, letting go of my hand. He walks to the window, staring outside with that sort of vacant look he’s gotten every time he’s talked about his dad. My heart hurts for him. From everything he’s told me about the man, this, him tracking his son down and coming to Florida, doesn’t fit the bill. Maybe he’s truly desperate for something.

I walk up behind Harrington and snake my hands around his naked waist. I lay my cheek on his back and pull him into a tight hug. “For what it’s worth, I think you should talk to him. He’s not someone to seek a person out just to lecture them about their life choices, right? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

He turns in my arms, so we’re facing each other, and gives me a sad smile. “When it comes to my dad, anything is possible, sweetheart.”

I don’t know what to say to that. He has so much distrust built up inside him when it comes to his dad that anything I say would fall on deaf ears. This is something he needs to figure out on his own.

“What does your gut tell you? Your heart?”

He presses his lips together in a grim line. “That I should go talk to him.”

I nod.

He has his answer. Whether he follows through with it or not is his choice. I place my head over his beating heart and embrace him harder, listening to his pulse beat faster and faster as his head and heart fight for the right choice to make.

I’VE BEEN SITTING in the car for the last five minutes, watching my dad take sip after sip of his coffee, waiting for me to come in. He’s checked his phone a dozen times in that same time frame, but I just can’t bring myself to move.

My phone buzzes. I absently pick it up from the center console and glance at it, half expecting to see a text from my dad.

Jess:
You got this
.
I
’
m here if you need anything
.
xoxo

I run my thumb over her picture. How did I ever get so lucky? Last night was one of the best night’s of my life.

I have no doubt in my mind that I don’t want to spend another day without her in my life, but I’m also not sure if I can love her like she deserves.

One thing at a time
,
Harry
.
First things first
.

I take a deep breath, push open the car door, and step outside. I try to erase the billion questions racing through my head as I cross first the parking lot and then the street.

What does he want? How did he find me? Why couldn
’
t he just let me go?

The air between Dad and me has always been flammable, to say the least. And I’m sure this time won’t be any different. But I have to admit that his behavior is such a departure from anything I’ve ever known that I’m kind of curious. Why, after all this time, has he suddenly decided to hunt me down?

I steel myself as I pull open the door to the cafe and step inside. People chatter and laugh around me, going about their business. Dad spots me immediately and stands up as I warily approach his booth. His smile is genuine, but awkward.

“Hey, Harrington,” he says. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

I stare at him. Because good God, it’s a lot more awkward than I imagined.

“Please have a seat.” He slips back into his spot and I follow his example. He picks up a menu, looking through it like this is just any old meeting with a colleague or hell, even a blind date. “Anything you like in here?”

I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I’m not ready to be his puppet. “So, you going to tell me what this is about?”

He sighs, closing the menu and setting it on the table, interlacing his hands over it. “Right to the point, I see.” The crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes make him look older than his sixty-two years, and I feel something tug at me from my memory, settling disquietly in my stomach.

I’d watched my mom go downhill faster than anything right before cancer took her life. She’d aged a million years in those last few months while she was pregnant. Not that Dad could get pregnant, but he could—

Shit.

Is he sick?

“What’s going on, Dad? Is everything okay? Are
you
okay?” I ask, trying to hide the fear that’s suddenly coursing through me. Sure we haven’t talked much since Mom died, but he’s still my dad. And I still . . .
love
him. He’s family.

“You know, your mom and I, we always thought of you as the strongest.” His mouth tilts up into a sad smile.

I press my lips together.
Where is he going with this?

He sighs. “I know I’ve been a lousy father to you and your brothers. And there’s nothing I can do to make up for lost time . . .”

I really don’t care to talk about this right now. After all these years, his apologies would mean almost nothing to me. Besides, he didn’t answer my question about him being all right. Typical. He certainly looks all fine and dandy in his thousand-dollar Armani suit. The fear I’d felt for his well-being is rapidly drowning in irritation.

“I know we’re not taking this walk down memory lane to talk about
your
past mistakes. So why don’t you cut to the chase?”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.
Interesting
.

“And I’d rather be getting back to—”

“I know what you’re doing, Harrington. I know you didn’t just drop out of college. I did some digging of my own—”

“You’re checking up on me?” Now it’s my turn to clench my jaw. “How dare you?”

“Did you really think I would just let you get yourself in trouble? I’m your father. I can’t just—”

“Stop!” Surprisingly, he does. We stare at each other, wordless, for a long second before I finally say, “I don’t need you lecturing me about my choices. I should have known better when you left me all those messages. You don’t need me. You’re just up to your old ways, needing to control us. Control
me
.”

“That’s not why I had you found, actually.” He pulls out a letter-sized envelope from the side of his jacket and thrusts it forward, waiting for me to take it. “This.
This
is why I wanted to find you.”

I look at him a moment longer, and then eye the envelope.
I
’
m so going to regret this
. With a sigh, I take it and pull out the folded wad of paper inside.

It’s a picture of a young woman, a six or seven-year-old girl, and a baby, all staring back at me with that innocence only captured on film. The woman looks like she’s maybe early to mid thirties. The baby, well, she looks small, like all babies do. Maybe a little older than Hope. They look happy. I glance at Dad, but he’s lost in something far away.

I look back at the papers, flipping through page after page of names, birth certificates, and criminal records. The last page has an address. Who are these people, and why am I looking at them? And more importantly, why did my dad want to find me so badly just to give me this? “Okay,” I finally say, folding everything as is and shoving it all into the envelope. “You got me. What the hell is this stuff?”

“You have to know that I didn’t know. If I did, I would have never . . .” He finally looks at me. His eyes are brimming with tears. “I made a lot of mistakes in my life, Harrington. Especially when it came to you boys. But I never ever thought I’d make this kind of mistake. You can’t tell Hudson or Heath. You have to keep this a secret. Promise me, son. Promise me you’ll keep it between us.”

All right, I’m officially confused. “First of all, tell me what the hell is going on. Secondly, I’ll decide whether or not I tell my brothers anything. Not you.”

He sighs heavily, but nods. “This is the reason I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the last few months.”

“I still—”

“You’re the only person I know who can bring her home. Hudson’s too logical; Heath’s heart will get him nowhere. But you . . . Harrington. You don’t think with your head or heart. You do what your gut tells you, and I know you’ll do anything for family.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented me.” I smirk. “Is hell freezing over—”

“You have the brains and the muscle. That’s why I fought so hard to keep you in school. I bribed Cranbrook and paid off whoever I had to to get you through college. Even through all those fights and lack of interest, you were smart. Even your twelfth grade political science teacher agreed. What was his name?”

Mr. Kramer. But I stay silent. I’ve never seen him ramble like this, and I can only assume that whatever he’s gearing up to say is going to be big.

“Kramer?” He nods to himself. “Yes. That was it. He said that if you would only put half the effort into doing your homework as you did raising hell in school, you’d have been valedictorian.”

I swallow thickly. He had talked to my teachers? I never knew that. And it’s not something I want to digest right now. “What do you need from me, Dad?”

He points to the folder. “I need you to go convince that girl, the baby, in the picture to trust you. I need you to bring her home.”

“And why would I do that, exactly?”

He takes a deep breath. “Because she’s your half-sister.”