Shooting the Moon (21 page)

Kimberly hesitated. “You’re being pretty supportive of Harley.”

Lauren didn’t answer.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

An image immediately appeared in Lauren’s mind—Harley kissing her, touching her—and she felt her cheeks flush hot. “No.”

“Right,” Kim said, but there wasn’t an ounce of belief in her words. “We need to talk.”

“Not now,” Lauren groaned.

“Then later. But consider it a date.”

H
ARLEY COULD HEAR
movement, water turning on and off, a drawer slamming, voices.

“So what time did he get home?” someone asked and, unless he was mistaken, it was Kimberly speaking.

“Had to be after three,” Tank replied.

Harley took the pillow off his head and rolled over to check his alarm clock. It was nearly one o’clock in the
afternoon. He’d slept for six hours, but somehow that didn’t make the day’s prospects any brighter.

“Quentin showed up last night,” Kimberly said, her voice muffled as though she’d turned in a different direction.

“I heard,” Tank responded.

“Did Harley say anything about what happened?”

“Not much. Until he called Damien.”

“He called Damien? What for?”

Harley cringed, expecting to hear his blunder repeated. He felt like an idiot for telling Damien that Lauren was in love with him. He’d only done it because he knew it was the last thing Damien wanted to hear. But that was no excuse.

Fortunately, when Tank spoke, there was the sound of a shrug in his voice. “No reason, really. I think he just wanted to piss him off.”

Silently thanking Tank for his discretion, Harley started to get out of bed, but froze at Kimberly’s next words.

“So, does Harley know Quentin kicked Lauren out of the house last night?”

“He didn’t say anything about that.”

“I just talked to her. She’s at a hotel.”

“What happened?”

“She and her father had an argument, and she took Harley’s side.”

“What about Brandon?”

“Her father wouldn’t let her take him. She left during the night, while he was sleeping. And he won’t let her come back to see him, either.”

Shit.
Harley couldn’t believe it. Brandon had watched his grandfather throw him out of the house less than twelve hours earlier, and then awakened to find Lauren gone. What had Quentin been thinking? Lauren’s father had to be the biggest asshole Harley had ever met.

“That’s too bad,” Tank was saying, but then Lucy in
terrupted, asking Kimberly for a drink of juice, and the conversation turned to other things—what they were going to do at the lake, whether or not they needed a life vest for Lucy, what time Lucy had to be home.

Harley sat in his room, deep in his own thoughts, paying little attention to their inconsequential chatter. Finally they trooped out of the house and the door slammed, then silence fell. And he ignored everything his head had been telling him and picked up the phone.

L
AUREN’S CELL PHONE
would not stop ringing. She fumbled through her covers, searching, but she was so tangled up in the sheets that she couldn’t find it. The ringing stopped, and she sighed and sank back into the soft mattress. But then the ringing started all over again.

Surely it wasn’t Kimberly. Lauren wasn’t expecting to hear from her until later, much later.

Then she sat bolt upright, instantly awake, and began to search in earnest. What if it was Brandon? She hadn’t called him after hanging up with Kim because she knew her father would probably be monitoring the phone and she wanted him to relax his guard first, if possible. But if there was a problem and Brandon needed her…Or her father had changed his mind…

Finally coming up successful, she punched the talk button before the caller could be transferred to her voice mail and put the phone to her ear. With the drapes mostly drawn, it was too dark to read her caller ID. She didn’t take the time to even try.

“Brandon?” she said, sounding breathless, even to her own ears.

There was a pause. “It’s me.”

Harley. Lauren would have recognized his voice anywhere, although after last night, she hadn’t expected him to call her.

“Hi,” she said.

“How’s the ankle?”

“It’s getting better.”

“How’s the rest of you?”

“As good as possible under the circumstances, I guess.” She thought again of last night and felt fresh embarrassment wash over her. What must Harley think—particularly after rejecting her?

There was a pause. “I heard about what happened,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. My father’s just…he’s not himself right now.”

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell by his behavior.”

Lauren tried not to laugh because laughing made her feel too disloyal. But with everything else going to hell in a handbasket, a little laughing didn’t seem like such a big deal. Besides, Harley had every right to dislike her father. He’d never seen how loving and caring Quentin could be. He’d only seen him at his worst.

“He’s not all bad,” she countered. “In most ways, he was a good father to me.” She hoped he’d be a good father to her again someday.

“I’ll take your word for it. What are you doing right now?”

“Sleeping.”

“Any chance you’re ready to get up?”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. The painkiller made her feel as if she could sleep all day. Or maybe it was the aftereffect of last night’s emotional trauma. “What for?”

“You promised to let me take you for a ride on my bike, remember?”

Lauren remembered. She also remembered that she hadn’t been completely serious when she made that promise. “I was joking,” she said, deciding to play it safe. She needed to talk to Harley about Brandon, but she didn’t want to have that discussion on the back of his bike.

“Does that mean you’re chickening out?” he asked.

“I’m not chickening out,” she protested. “I’m insuring my future health and safety. My ankle’s already hurt. I’d rather keep the rest of my body intact.”

“We’ll wrap your ankle in a brace, and I’ll help you get around. You’ll be fine.”

If he was going to help her around, she’d definitely have an opportunity to talk to him. They’d be together, side by side….

Then again, they could talk right here.

She glanced around the room, remembered the tingle of his kisses last night, and decided maybe it
would
be better to leave the hotel. Imagining Harley’s touch, picturing him in her bed—
this
bed—made her feel just as eager and breathless as before.

“Lauren?” he prompted.

“I don’t know,” she said, forcibly redirecting her thoughts. “Talking me into getting on a bike is a lot like convincing a claustrophobic to shut himself in a closet. What if I freak out?”

“I’ll be there with you,” he said. “It’s time you trusted me.”

She already trusted Harley. Or she wouldn’t have deemed him worthy of Brandon. But there was one more thing, probably the most important issue of all—would she have time to shower and do her hair?

“When?” she asked.

“Now.”

“In an hour.”

“Fine. Tell me where you are.”

Lauren gave him her hotel and room number, then hung up and hurried to the bathroom as fast as her ankle would permit.

Her life was in complete disarray, but somehow everything seemed all right because Harley was coming to see her.
Go figure.

L
AUREN STOOD BACK
and surveyed herself in the mirror. At first glance, her swollen ankle made her appear to have a clubfoot, which wasn’t particularly appealing, but barring that, she looked pretty good. Certainly better than she had at the park yesterday when she was sporting Aunt Myrtle’s idea of a hip outfit. Today she was wearing the best her hastily packed suitcases could provide—a pair of low-riding jeans, with enough bell at the bottom to allow for wrapping her foot, and a T-shirt top that hugged her breasts and showed an inch or two of bare midriff.

Making an O with her mouth, she quickly smoothed on some pink gloss, then brushed her hair until it gleamed and applied some mascara to make her eyes more noticeable. She definitely wasn’t movie-star gorgeous, like Audra had been, but she wasn’t half bad since she’d filled out a bit and lost the glasses. After the rejection she’d suffered last night, she needed to feel attractive.

She was just adding a pair of silver hoop earrings when she heard Harley’s knock. Crossing her fingers for luck and continued good health, despite the motorcycle, she limped across the room and opened the door.

“Wow,” he said, letting his gaze drift over her. “You look—” he cleared his throat “—great.”

“Really?” Lauren felt a warm blush rise up her neck. Having Harley look at her so…avidly more than compensated for all the years he’d ignored her.

“You still up for this?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

“As long as we don’t wrinkle my clothes,” she teased.

He scowled in mock warning. “Picking a fight already?”

“Just getting even. Come in. I need to put on my watch and grab my purse.”

He stepped inside the room, wearing jeans, a Harley Davidson T-shirt and his jacket, and smelling like soap and leather. Lauren felt her stomach flutter, and experienced a moment of guilt for being so happy to see him.

“Somehow, when I heard your father threw you out of the house, I was picturing you in more…”

She turned in time to see him glance pointedly at the rich furnishings and elegant drapes.

“…desperate circumstances,” he finished with a wry grin. “This place doesn’t inspire much pity.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because you feel sorry for me?” she asked.

“No.”

She waited for him to explain, but he only frowned and said, “I’m here to give you a ride on my bike, remember?”

“I
CAN’T BELIEVE
I’m doing this,” Lauren said, eyeing Harley’s sleek, black bike and its shiny chrome accents as he handed her the helmet he’d fastened with a bungee cord to the back.

“Don’t think about it,” he said, straddling the seat and raising the kickstand. “Trust me.”

Lauren accepted the helmet but she didn’t put it on. She continued to stare at the bike. “It looks heavy.”

“It is heavy.”

“What if it falls over on us while you’re trying to start it?”

He gave her a “get real” look. “It’s not going to fall over.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I won’t let it, okay?”

Still Lauren hesitated. “I think maybe you should start the motor before I get on.”

“Oh, brother.” He rolled his eyes but settled his own helmet on his head and, a moment later, the engine roared to life, making it almost impossible to hear anything else.

Lauren blew air out her cheeks and wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “One ride,” she muttered to herself and fastened her helmet.

“Where are we going?” she called above the noise.

“You’ll see,” he said, offering her a hand.

Lauren considered his hand, stretched out to help her onto the bike. Once she accepted it, she knew Harley wouldn’t let her chicken out. Oddly, she found that knowledge reassuring. Wherever he was going, she was going with him, and it felt right.

“Okay,” she said, even though he couldn’t hear her, and settled herself behind him.

The vibration of the motor instantly began to resonate through her whole body, but as she slipped her arms around Harley’s trim waist, the contact between them seemed to melt something deeper, something in her soul. She loved this man. He was her sister’s old boyfriend, Brandon’s dad and her father’s nemesis, but in this moment, none of that seemed to matter. He belonged to her.

Harley gave the bike some gas and they coasted out of the hotel parking lot, but he stopped at the curb long enough to twist around and look at her. “Your ankle okay?” he hollered.

Tightening her grip, she nodded and closed her eyes.

He turned onto the street, wove through the downtown traffic until they reached the suburbs, then opened up the throttle on the highway.

Lauren felt utterly weightless as they flew over the pavement. Trees, houses, telephone poles, everything blurred before her. There was only the rush of wind, the incredible power of the bike and its deafening noise—and Harley, completely in control, his body firm and warm and pressed against hers.

Sex couldn’t be any better than this, Lauren decided, smiling to herself, but long before she was ready to stop, Harley slowed the bike and turned down a dirt road that led to a small pond. Wildflowers in orange and yellow bloomed at the edges of the water amid tall grasses and a copse of aspens that lent dappled shade, making it feel private.

When they came to a stop, Harley put a foot to the ground, turned off the motor and lowered the kickstand.

“This is beautiful,” she said, her ears ringing in the sudden silence. Reluctantly, she let go of him and got carefully off the bike to avoid reinjuring her ankle. “How did you know about this place?”

“I used to come here in high school, when I got into a fight with one of my mother’s boyfriends.”

“Did she have a lot of boyfriends?” she asked, limping to the edge of the pond.

“Loneliness doesn’t exactly promote selectivity.” He crossed his arms and leaned against his bike, watching her.

“Did her boyfriends ever beat you?” she asked, even though she was almost afraid to hear the answer.

He shrugged. “I took a couple of whippings, but I probably deserved them. I resented the presence of another man in the house, hated the way it changed my mother’s focus. All of a sudden, she didn’t seem to care about me, so I became determined to make myself noticed—which generally caused a fight that got me kicked out of the house for the night.” He shrugged again, a nonchalant expression on his face. “I wasn’t an easy kid to raise.”

“Did you sleep here when you got kicked out?”

“Sometimes.”

Lauren wondered why he’d brought her here, why he’d wanted to take her for a ride in the first place. “Does this little spot hold painful memories for you?”

He grinned. “No, it’s just the closest thing to a meadow I know.”

Lauren glanced up at him in surprise. Was he referring to the argument they’d had after Brandon’s karate class, when he’d accused her of being too uptight? When he’d asked her if anyone had ever tumbled her in a meadow? She couldn’t say for sure. He wasn’t looking at her. And he certainly wasn’t making any attempt to kiss her.

Bending, he found a little rock and skipped it across the water. “What did you think of the bike?”

Lauren tried to rein in her enthusiasm so she wouldn’t seem silly for being reluctant before, but he called her on it immediately.

“Judging by the size of the smile that’s trying to slip out, I’d say you liked it.”

She nodded. What she’d liked was riding so close behind him and having the perfect excuse to hold him. She doubted riding with anyone else would have provided the same experience. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So, you’re not afraid anymore?”

“I wouldn’t want to try driving it myself. But you seem to know what you’re doing.”

His smile grew crooked. “I’m impressed. Little Lauren Worthington can admit when she’s wrong.”

“Don’t press your luck,” she said. “You still can’t control the other drivers on the road. You could easily die on that thing.”

“We all gotta go sometime.”

Lauren sat on the bank and took off her ankle wrap, then slipped her foot in the cool pond, hoping it would
ease the swelling. “When are you planning to file for custody of Brandon?” she asked.

He came to sit next to her, clasping his arms around his knees. “I was going to do it this week,” he said, gazing into the distance. “But…” He looked at her, then looked away. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you. Maybe if you go back to your father and tell him I’ll back off, he’ll let you move home and everything will return to the way it was before. As far as I’m concerned, maybe we can work out some visitation. Even if Quentin won’t agree, you and Brandon could meet me now and then.”

Lauren felt a sense of astonishment—of shock. Harley was giving up Brandon,
for her?
“That’s the greatest sacrifice anyone’s ever made for me,” she said, so touched she could hardly speak. “I know how much you love your son.”

He said nothing, so she took her foot out of the water and turned to face him, wanting him to see her expression and her sincerity when she added, “But I don’t want to move home, Harley.”

His brows shot up. “Then, what
do
you want?”

“I want you to get custody of Brandon.”

“What?” he said, rocking back.

“My parents are getting older and they aren’t prepared to raise another child, at least not without me there to help them. So—” she started wrapping her ankle again so she wouldn’t have to see his reaction to this next part “—I was thinking I’d contribute to your attorney’s fees and, afterward, maybe you and I can share Brandon. Just like a divorced couple shares their children.”

She couldn’t help looking at him then, and saw him take a quick breath. “As long as that kind of arrangement is okay with Brandon, of course,” she said.

“But I live in California,” he told her. “You wouldn’t get to see him very often.”

“I would if I moved to California. I could rent an apartment or a house not far from where you live.”

A gentle breeze stirred her hair, and he raised a hand to smooth it away from her face. “You’d trust me that much?” he asked, and she thought she saw a flicker of strong emotion register in the depths of his eyes.

She smiled and nodded toward his bike. “I’m trusting you with my life, remember?”

B
RANDON SAT IN HIS ROOM
,
reading the same page in his math book over and over because he couldn’t seem to understand what it said. He was suspended from school until Wednesday, which meant he had a lot of homework to do so he wouldn’t fall behind. But with the way his mind kept wandering and his eyes kept stinging every time he thought of Lauren or his father, he didn’t think he’d get anywhere with it.

Propping his chin on one fist, he stared glumly out the window. His grandfather had forbidden him to contact Harley, but Brandon had no plans to obey. Especially now that Lauren was gone. He was just waiting for a chance to slip into the study, to call his father. He’d already tried Lauren’s cell once, before Grandfather knew he was up, and received no answer. She’d left a note on his desk telling him not to be upset, that she’d be in touch soon. But Grandfather had been hovering about the house all morning, pacing, growling to himself and snatching up the phone every time it rang. Even if she tried to call, Brandon doubted Grandfather would let him talk.

What if she couldn’t
ever
get through to him? What if he never saw her again? The stinging in his eyes grew worse and he pressed his palms against them….

“How’s the homework going?”

Brandon dropped his hands and blinked rapidly before turning to see his grandfather in the doorway. “Okay, I guess.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well, when you finish, maybe you and I can take in a movie. Would you like that?”

Brandon didn’t want to see a movie. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to sit by the phone and wait for Lauren to call, but after the argument he’d seen last night, he didn’t dare tell his grandfather that. Grandfather was acting weird. He was talking loud and cheery, although it was pretty easy to tell he didn’t feel very happy. It was all so confusing.

“I guess,” Brandon said because he was afraid to say no.

“Great. I’ll go check the paper for movie listings. After the movie, we’ll pick up your grandma at the airport. She’ll be excited to see you.”

Brandon nodded, wishing he was more excited to see her. He loved his grandmother. She made delicious fresh-squeezed lemonade and bought him lots of new school clothes—but she wasn’t Lauren.

“Grandfather?” Brandon said before Quentin could head back down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Do you think we could take Lauren to the movies with us?” he asked hopefully.

His grandfather’s smile disappeared. “I don’t think so, Brandon. Not today.”

“But I
really
want to see her. Pleeease?”

“Not today,” he said, more sharply.

Brandon knew better than to push once that tone entered his grandfather’s voice. But his eyes were stinging again, and he knew he’d be okay if only he could talk to Lauren…. “Can I call her, then? Will you tell me where she is?”

“I don’t know where she is. Now, get your homework done so we can leave.” He retreated, his heavy footfalls
muffled against the carpet, and Brandon turned back to stare at his math book. He’d only done two problems. He had another fifty to go, and that was just one day’s assignment. But when the numbers blurred before him, he shut the book in favor of resting his chin on his hand and gazing out the window again. He was just wishing he’d see Lauren’s car come down the street when the telephone rang.

Scrambling out from behind his desk, he ran for the extension in the kitchen, hoping to pick it up before his grandfather did. But the ringing stopped as he reached the end of the hall.

“He got it,” he muttered in dejection and started back, but then he heard his grandfather calling him.