CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days later, Harlow wakes me at the crack of dawn and tells me to dress in comfortable clothes while she makes us a lunch. Two things don’t escape my notice: First, she didn’t sleep in my bed again last night. She stays long enough for the amazing, explosive sex and waits until I fall asleep. Then I can only assume she slips out because I always wake up alone. Second, she hasn’t said a word about where we’re going or what we’re doing today.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I have a new assessment I’d like to try. I spoke with my master professor yesterday, and she gave me some great suggestions about where to go with your case next. I didn’t use any names, of course.”
I nod, acknowledging her discretion. Not that the world isn’t still buzzing about that kiss captured on camera and whether I’m the reason Harlow ran out on her cheating ex. As promised, I helped her change her number. She also disabled all social media profiles except LinkedIn, which she kept for professional purposes. I also haven’t seen her return a single one of those stacked-up voice mails except to her brothers or their brides.
“But in order to give this assessment properly, I have to change the test conditions. We already tried getting a read on you when you were tired and you performed better than expected. Since anxiety seems to be another trigger, we’ll try this in a stressful situation.”
I’m pulling on a T-shirt to go with my khaki shorts and hiking boots when her words stop me. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing public,” she assures me. “Believe me, the last thing I want is a spectacle. I don’t need more attention, either.”
True. No one seeks less attention from the press than Harlow.
“Thanks for the reassurance, but can you be more specific?”
“No.” And she looks cheerful about having the upper hand as she hands me a cup of coffee. “If I tell you, then you can mentally prepare for the situation. I need you to be off guard for this to work properly.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Her smile turns flirty. “Am I scaring you, big guy?”
“A little bit. You’re small but mighty. And you can be fearsome when pissed off.”
“Don’t you forget it.” She winks and lifts a picnic basket. “Ready when you are.”
With a little more trepidation than I let on, I get behind the wheel and we head out of the estate. I’m semi-prepared when we open the gate to find a small cluster of reporters waiting for a photo op or a scoop. The second we emerge from behind the sweeping palm fronds, the snaps start. I can hear the speculation now. No one has seen us come or go for days, so they know damn well Harlow has been in my house. They’ll likely guess she’s been in my bed. Not as much as I’d like, but I’ll fix that soon.
Harlow keeps her head down as we pass slowly because they aren’t in a hurry to get off the damn road.
“Is your relationship with Ms. Reed serious or are you her rebound romance?” shouts one reporter.
I’m not going roll down my window to justify that stupid question with an answer.
“What do you have to say about the speculation that you’re in talks to provide color commentary for NFL games this fall?”
Nothing. If they want to speculate, I can’t stop them. But I’m certainly not adding fuel to their fire.
“Simon Butler says Ms. Reed’s public display at their aborted wedding was a stunt to whip up public sympathy when, in fact, she’s a… What did he call her?” He flips through his little notepad. “Yeah, a fame-seeking whore. Butler claims she cheated on him with you. What’s your comment?”
By silent but mutual consent, we’ve ignored most everything on our phones and turned off the world. It’s easy to do when you have no neighbors, your own beach, and utter privacy. For the past couple of days, I’ve done nothing but enjoy my moments with Harlow. We’ve gone skinny-dipping and built a sand castle on the beach. We’ve watched movies and cooked together. And we’ve had sex. Steamy quickies, followed by hours-long bouts of slow, heavy pleasure. We’ve christened the living room sofa, the kitchen counters, even the lounger on which I first spotted her. I don’t know what it is about Harlow, but every time I’m sure I’ve fucked her so much I shouldn’t want her again, I want her more.
“Was she seeing you while still engaged to her fiancé, Weston?” the reporter demands. “Is she the fame-seeking whore Butler claims?”
That’s it. I stop the SUV and put it in park.
“What are you doing?” Harlow gapes at me like she knows exactly what I intend and is horrified by the prospect.
“Putting a stop to this bullshit.”
She grabs my arm. “You can’t beat a reporter up. He’s only saying that shit to get a rise out of you, and I’ve heard worse. I’ll be fine.”
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that. It’s fucking wrong, Harlow. Butler screwed you over, and I’m going to set the record straight.”
“You’ll just fan the flames.”
“Your ex shouldn’t be the only one who says his piece, especially when it’s all lies. I’ve been silent because I don’t care what they write about me. They’ve been doing it for years. But you got dragged into this tabloid shit because I wasn’t thinking. It’s my fault, so I’m going to stop it.”
“Please let it go.” She bites her lip. “For me.”
When she asks like that, I can’t be the asshole who makes a stink, even if it’s for the good cause of defending her.
“Why?”
“They’re not worth it, and I can fight my own battles. I want to look forward, not back. Arguing with them just mires us in the past and drags us down.”
I grip the wheel until my knuckles are white. “I don’t like this for you. You’re not fame-seeking and you’re not a whore. Goddamn it.”
Her fingers on me gentle. “And I’m touched that you want to defend me. But they’re like a schoolyard bully, right? If we ignore them, they eventually go away. The minute we give them something to talk about, they sink their teeth in. Really. Just leave it. Besides, Simon is looking to save face, so he’s putting the blame for his shit on me. I’m sure he hopes that will protect his precious reputation. Honestly, if that’s all it takes so he never darkens my door again, I can live with whatever these guys write about me.”
Letting out a frustrated breath, I stare her way. Harlow is right, but I don’t like it. I want to beat the shit out of anyone who maligns her. But my impulse to defend her really only gives her situation more heat and Butler’s claim more credibility.
I put the SUV in drive and crack the window. “No comment.”
As I raise the glass on their shouting, I rev the car. The idiots lingering in the road are finally smart enough to jump out of the way. And as soon as we’re clear, I step on the gas and we lurch forward.
“Thank you,” she says softly, trailing her palm down my arm to hold my hand. “You did good.”
I squeeze her fingers. “I don’t want to upset you, baby. I just—”
“I know. And it’s very chivalrous. But we have more important things to do. And far more fun.”
Since she doesn’t give me much choice, I let the drama go. “You going to tell me what we’re doing now?”
“Nope. But I’ll tell you where to go. Head toward Haleakala. Once we’re in the vicinity, I’ll give you more specific directions.”
“You really are enjoying the upper hand,” I accuse.
“Totally.”
Her smile sparkles and for the moment before I merge into traffic, I simply stare. She’s wearing only sunscreen and lip gloss. There’s nothing remotely sexy about her athleisure outfit and sturdy sneakers. Yet I’m thinking she’s one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever met. It’s not her physical beauty, per se. I’ve dated actresses and models galore in the past. Country and pop singers. Even a porn star. They were pretty and all that. But Harlow is lovely from the inside out. There’s a vitality about her that’s bright and glowing and irresistible.
I’m sounding sappy and I need to stop.
After she rattles off a series of directions, I find myself at the top of a tall crater. The landscape here is more desert-like than tropical. There’s a guy waiting for us next to a tall pole with cables and harnesses attached.
My gut tightens. “We’re zip-lining?”
“We are.”
“How are you going to assess me while we’re doing this?”
“We’re doing it in tandem. More than a few times. Are you afraid of heights?”
“They aren’t my favorite thing,” I hedge. Actually, I’m somewhat terrified.
“Good. Hopefully this will be effective.”
I don’t really want to know how much this is going to cost me, both in money and guts. But none of that matters, I suppose, if Harlow is able to isolate my issue and help me. “All right. Let’s do this thing.”
And get it over with.
She gives me a little clap and a quick peck. I’d rather linger and go in for seconds, but she’s already approaching the guy wearing the polo shirt with the adventure company’s logo. “Hi, we’re your ten a.m. appointment.”
“Harlow?” he asks, checking his clipboard. Then he glances my way and does a double take. “Mr. Weston. Wow. Hi. I’m such a fan.”
Pasting on a smile, I hold out my hand and make small talk. Out of the corner of my eye I see Harlow gathering supplies from her backpack.
Finally, our guide, Matt, straps us in hip to hip, facing each other. Harlow taps her thumbs over her phone like a maniac. “I’m just going to record your responses and I’ll calculate the results later. Nervous?”
“A little.” Okay, way more than that. I’m starting to sweat. I’m definitely having second thoughts. I wish like hell this was over with and I wasn’t having visions of snapping cables as we fall to our deaths. But I’ve never been a coward and I won’t start now. “Have you done this before?”
“Yeah. A couple of times. It’s a lot of fun.”
Dangling from a wire hundreds of feet from solid ground while whizzing toward another post I can see myself face-planting into? “Yeah, a blast.”
Chuckling, she secures her phone to an armband built to hold the device, then withdraws a booklet she’d rolled up and curled inside her bra. When she flips to the first page, I gape at her. “This is a real assessment, not just you trying to take a swag at my situation while we fly down the mountain?”
“Of course.” Harlow looks baffled. “Why would I waste your time?”
Matt approaches, checks a few harnesses and leads, then asks us how we’re feeling.
“Great!” She sounds downright chipper.
I, on the other hand, wonder if I can keep myself from vomiting. “Do I have to answer that?”
They both laugh.
“You’ll do great,” the guide vows.
I’m less convinced but short of chickening out and ruining whatever Harlow has planned, there’s not much I can do. “Thanks.”
Matt steps back. “Give me a thumbs-up when you’re ready, then I’ll release you.”
Daredevil Harlow sticks her thumb out immediately. No hesitation, just a confident enthusiasm I envy. Then they both turn to look at me. My heart is drumming. I’m definitely feeling overheated again. A touch dizzy, too.
Still, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish. So I manage to clench my fist and raise my thumb. With a wild shout, the guide lets go of the rope he’s been holding. We start to roll down the cable, and I grab on to the handle above me—as if that will do any damn good if the support above our heads snaps.
A split second later, Harlow begins asking me questions similar to those from the first assessment and gauging my replies. I’m supposed to listen and reply and keep my thoughts screwed on straight while I’m racing down the side of a massive crater, leaves whipping past my face, my stomach knotting? Right… I’ll attempt to keep my head screwed on straight, but it’s hard when breathing isn’t coming easy, my heartbeat is frantic, and my brain seems focused on fear.
“Noah?” she prompts.
I manage to answer, but as my anxiety flares, my brain slows on all functions that aren’t related to curbing my freak out.
“Look at me.” She hooks her leg around mine and gives me a reassuring smile. “These guys are top rated. The worst that can happen is that you’re too anxious of heights to finish the assessment successfully, then we’ll have to come back and try again.”
That sounds terrible. “Keep going.”
It takes us about six trips down the mountain and a whole lot of will to keep myself together before we finish. My ability to speak didn’t seize up entirely but it felt close at times. Only her voice, her encouragement to keep breathing and her focusing me on the moment helped me to stay on top of the worry. If not for her, I’m almost sure I would have seized up.
As we unpack ourselves from the harness for the last time, I grab her and hold her like a lifeline, burying my head in her neck. Instantly, she wraps her arms around me and I feel comforted. Soothed.
She kisses my temple. “You okay, big guy?”
I nod. “I’ll make it. I think.”
“Good to hear. You take care of Matt, and I’ll get our gear together and loaded in the car. We can find a nice picnic spot and eat.”
Reluctantly, I let her go and I toss her the keys. Harlow catches them with one hand and starts shoving water bottles and her test booklets into her backpack. She’s not doing anything particularly interesting, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“Did you enjoy yourself even a little?” the guide asks.
“Sure.”
He laughs. “You’re not a very good liar, sir.”
“Noah.” I correct him with a shrug. “How about this, then? Once we got going, it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
“Fair enough. I didn’t realize you were afraid of heights.” He sounds surprised, like he’s just realized I’m human.
“A little,” I admit.
“Well, you did great.” He slants a glance toward Harlow. “She seemed to have a good time. You were a nice guy to do this for her.”
I don’t tell him that she really did it for me because that would raise too many questions. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that I’d do anything to make her smile. That sounds like a good-guy thing to say, sure. But it’s surprisingly true.
I think I need to introduce her to Trace, get his feedback. He knows me probably better than anyone else. More and more, I suspect she’s not just a summer fling. After the hell she’s been through recently, though, I wonder if she’s ready to feel more for me.
“She’s an amazing person,” I say with all honesty.
“She looked as if she was there for you during every moment of your ride.” His boyish grin morphs into an apologetic grimace. “It’s none of my business and I don’t listen to gossip much, but she doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman the press has painted her to be. What her ex did to her seemed really skeezy.”
“Thanks.” I could say a lot more, but it’s always a good policy to neither confirm nor deny. Instead, I voice the minimum to let him know that I appreciate his kindness but don’t give him enough to prolong the situation or feed to the press. And of course, I tip him well. “And now we’re going to eat lunch and I’ll hope that putting something in my stomach will settle me.”
Matt laughs. “Good luck. It was an honor. And for the record, I’d probably go out of my way to watch more football games if you were providing the color.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” I give him a little two-fingered salute, then join Harlow at the SUV.
“Make a new friend?” she asks, one bud in her ear as she records responses from our session onto the paper in her lap.
“He seems like a decent guy.” I jerk my head toward the test booklet. “Come to any conclusions yet?”
“Nothing firm. I have some thoughts but I need to do some additional research, have a few more conversations, maybe try another assessment or two. I’ll let you know.”
She knows way more about this subject than I do, so I shelve my disappointment that we can’t just jump into the therapy part of this. “So what should we do, then? How about lunch somewhere?”
“Know a good picnic place?”
“No.”
“Then let’s find one.”
Under better circumstances, I’d rather take her out and show her off, but that’s not smart now. “Sounds like a plan.”
As we head down the bumpy road toward the highway, Harlow glances at her phone, then curses. “Well, our peace and quiet has run out. Unless one of us wants to claim that we’ve contracted prolonged explosive diarrhea, my brothers are insisting that we get together for dinner.”
That’s good news…and bad news. I need some answers, but every fricking time I’ve talked to them, I’ve been unable to finish the conversation. How the hell am I supposed to sit across from the pair of them while they glare at me as if they know all the dirty things I do to their sister and still be able to carry on the conversation?
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really. I might be able to sidestep them for a while, but I’m pretty sure their wives are insisting, too. So I’m afraid there’s no getting out of it if I want to keep any family peace.”
I sigh. “Where?”
“Maxon and Keeley’s place. They recently opened the Sunshine Coast Bed and Breakfast. It’s a really relaxing place. Full of Keeley’s kitschy charm. Britta’s mom moved to Maui from Chicago to work for them, and let me tell you that woman can cook. It will be private and relaxed.”
With her brothers staring and judging? Sounds like a blast. Still, this will keep harmony in Harlow’s life and it’s important to her, so I can’t say no.
I sigh. “Tell them we’ll be there.”
After a low-key afternoon at home, Harlow on the phone for most of it with professors and colleagues, I spend time watching other color commentators, past and present, to get a feel for what works and what doesn’t. If I can pull this off, I’ll have to develop my own style. If I can overcome my issues, I’ll look forward to the challenge.
As the sun begins to set, I’m still watching clips on my iPad when Harlow shuffles onto the patio. I glance up to say something—then I realize she’s completely naked.
I can’t speak, not because my ability seizes up but because she’s stolen my breath.
“Hey.” She gives me a flirty smile.
Harlow is in the mood. I’m praising a higher power and singing hallelujahs on the inside because after one glance at her I am, too.
“Hey.” I set the iPad aside and pull off my shirt.
That gets her attention, and her double take makes me smile. Her staring never gets old, either.
Her gaze dips down toward my fly. “What’s…up?”
“My cock, and you know it.”
She grins. “I love having a man I can count on.”
I scoff. “Unlike earlier. I wanted to wimp out on the zip-lining. Not very manly of me.”
“You were totally masculine about your abject terror. You only squealed and trembled for the first few rides,” she teases.
“Come here, woman.” I stand and saunter closer, reaching for my zipper. “I’ll give you manly.”
“I thought you’d never ask…” Harlow sidles closer, hips swaying.
I lose the rest of my clothes and join her naked in the dusk. She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles up at me. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, happiness, and invitation. I don’t think before I speak next.
“Are you ready for me to more than like you, Harlow? To want more than just sex with you?”
I’m heading in that direction, and I’d rather not put my heart on the line if she’s simply going to reject any relationship beyond hooking up.
She stiffens but doesn’t pull away. “I don’t know. I like you. I have fun with you. I want to help you. But those are easy to both feel and admit. I won’t deny there’s something between us. But I’m not familiar with the ‘more’ part. I’ve never really done the whole romance thing.”
“Never?”
Easing out of my grasp, Harlow shakes her head. “We moved from San Diego to Hawaii when I was eight. You know Maui can be like a small town, and we weren’t from here. Sure, we lived here, but we weren’t locals.”
It’s true. People here are close-knit but they can be standoffish to outsiders and newcomers. “I understand.”
“Besides, any guy who liked me, either my brothers would warn him away or I’d figure out he was a teenage hormonal prick and lose interest. If I was ever tempted to dip my toe in the relationship pool, I just had to get an eyeful of my parents’ version of undying devotion. After that, I figured I was better off without.”
“Did they fight a lot?”
“Not overtly. They both operate more underhandedly. With them, it’s always passive-aggressive shit like my mom ‘accidentally’ spilling nail polish on Dad’s favorite dress shirt or him ‘forgetting’ their anniversary and planning an overnight business trip instead. Their relationship was cool and contentious under the falsely polite surface. Love never seemed to make either of them happy, so I figured…why bother?”
Wow. And her fiancé only reinforced all her worst fears about marriage. No wonder she’s gun-shy. “It’s not supposed to be that way.”
“That’s what Hollywood tells us,” she says tartly with a shrug. “But who knows? Can we just take whatever this is between us one day at a time?”
“Yeah. I like that idea. You need to know me and I need to know you. I just wanted to find out if we had any chance… You’ve been through a lot lately, and I could understand if Butler put you off relationships for a long while.”
“I’m not giving the asshole that kind of power over me. But I honestly didn’t expect to find anyone I liked well enough to spend more than a night or two with. So you’ve surprised me.”
“You surprised me, too. I thought I’d be alone while I figured my life out. But this is way better. You’re fun and smart. And a little mysterious.”
Her light laughter is like a melody in my head. “What you’re saying is that you’d be bored without someone crazy to shake up your post-retirement ho-hums.”
“Something like that. But I’m happy you’re here.”
I’d like to get more personal but she’s tensing up, like I’m creeping toward the boundaries of her comfort zone. The last thing I want to do is rattle her too much so she decides that she can’t deal.
“I’m…um, happy, too.” She sends me the mischievous grin I’m coming to know well. She’s moving back into safer territory. “So how about some raunchy sex in the pool?”
Harlow buries emotional intimacy with either humor or sex—or both. I need to put a subtle stop to that if I want her to give me a chance to be in her life as something more than a hookup or summer fuck.
“How about you come here?” I open my arms.
She pads into them warily. “What is it?”
“I just want to hold you for a minute.”
“Are you sure?” She rocks against me, rubbing herself against my hard dick. The woman really doesn’t play fair. “We could be having more fun…”
I clamp one hand around her hips to hold her still. If I let her drive me to crazed sexual hunger—a distinct possibility—I’ll never learn what we could have if only we stopped screwing long enough to figure it out. “In a minute. Humor a guy, huh?”
With a sigh, she finally settles into my arms softly. She’s small. Warmth shimmers off her body. I can feel how nervous this makes her, but she’s trusting me in the moment. She’s not running away. I’m calling it a victory.
It would be even sweeter if we kept our sex about the connection of more than our genitals.
Dropping a trio of kisses on her shoulder, I lift my face into her neck, lips against her ear. “You’re beautiful, Harlow. I love being with you. I love to make you feel better than any man ever has.”
Her shoulders tense and she leans back enough to meet my gaze in the halo of the patio light. She’s searching my eyes as if she’s trying to understand me. For her, I’m approaching dangerous ground.
“What do you want, Weston? Really?”
She doesn’t mean in the next few minutes when we have sex. She doesn’t mean over the next days and weeks while we work on my speech issues together. She’s grasped that I’m truly wondering if this might be a longer-term thing.
“I don’t know, baby. Like we’ve said, one day at a time.”
Her brows furrow and a little line appears between them. “Yeah. Fair warning: I don’t think I’m built for any kind of happily ever after. Simon understood the rules. He wasn’t looking for romance, either. But it sounds as if you are. That’s not me.”
I shrug. “It’s never been me, either. I’m just feeling us out. No harm in that, right? Maybe this goes nowhere. Aren’t you a little bit curious?”
Harlow weighs my words. “I might be. More than I want to be.”
Her breathless acknowledgement is honest. She thinks she’s not into romance, but I’m calling bullshit. I’d bet twenty bucks she doesn’t sleep with anyone just because they’re hot. She’ll actually want to like or respect the guy she’s burning up the sheets with.
“All I’m saying is, let’s figure this out. Oh, and I don’t think I can wait to get in the pool to be inside you.”
“Good. I don’t want to wait, either.”
I lift her against me and set her ass on the patio table and slowly spread her knees apart. She’s watching me, and I love feeling her stare all over my body. Being with her sends a shiver down my spine and spikes my blood with a thrill. But now it’s making things in my chest suspiciously soft, too.
“Hey, anyone here?” I hear a familiar voice call from inside the house.
Harlow leaps off the table with a gasp. “Who is that?”
I hastily grab my shorts and zip them. “My brother, who I will soon kill for dropping in uninvited.”
Sure, I wanted his feedback about Harlow, but not when she was stark naked and looking sexy as hell.
“Shit,” she hisses. “I don’t have a towel or a stitch of clothing out here.”
I glance around the patio and I see nothing except my T-shirt. I toss it her way, and she pulls it on over her head. I want to groan. If anything, she looks sexier. Her nipples poke the meshy blue fabric. The hem flirts with her thighs. Seeing her in my shirt and having that stamp of ownership on her is definitely doing something to me. And it’s really not good that I have no way to cover my obvious erection.
“Noah?”
I stop cold at that voice. It’s definitely not Trace’s.
Fuck me.
“He brought a woman with him?”
I sigh. “He brought my mother.”
Harlow’s jaw drops. Her eyes flare wide. “Are you kidding me? Is there a hole in the yard I can hide in?”
“Nope.” I take her hand. “We’ve going to have to brazen it out, baby.”
“If they’ve been reading the tabloids at all, they know we’ve spent the last few days together.”
“Exactly.” And because no one in my family thinks I’m a saint, they know I’ve been sleeping with Harlow.
Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. They’ll get to meet this woman who’s wrapping herself around me while she’s not at her best. Maybe they’ll see the real her. Hell, maybe I will. Maybe they’ll be able to find faults that I can’t…or they’ll figure out she’s every bit as amazing as I suspect.
I tug on her hand and head for the open accordion door. “Out here, Makuahine.”
“What does that mean?” Harlow whispers.
“It’s Hawaiian for mom or mother.”
“Gotcha. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, ku’uipo.”
Before she can ask me what that word means, my mother and my brother both appear on the other side of the wide, retracted door that leads to the patio. Trace grins. My mother stops short and takes in our lack of clothing and clasped hands in a glance.
“Hi,” I say into the awkward silence.
Trace breaks the ice with a laugh. “We should have called first.”
I nod. “It might have been nice. This is Harlow, bro. Makuahine, say hello.”
My brother dutifully extends his hand, pretending that Harlow isn’t half-naked. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Her smile is strained, but she’s managing the situation with grace.
My mother looks her up and down before a little smile dances at the corner of her lips and takes her hand. “Hello, Harlow.” Then she turns to me. “Is she your nalohia?”
My girlfriend. I don’t know if Harlow would object to that term, but it will make my mother feel a lot better. “Yeah.”
Harlow looks a little confused, but I give her an encouraging smile when my mom turns back to her and squeezes her hand. “From what I understand, you’ve been through a lot recently. I hope my son is making you happy. And that you make him happy, as well.”
Harlow relaxes, and her smile looks genuine. “He’s great at putting a smile on my face.”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes how suggestive her reply sounds and closes her eyes, face flushing. Trace laughs. I do my best not to smile. Even my mom looks amused.
“That came out wrong. I meant he’s easy to be with and he’s a good listener. On that note, I’m just going to go upstairs and…” She shakes her head as if thinking twice about mentioning that she’ll put on some clothes. “I’ll be back.”
“Looking forward to it,” Trace calls after her.
I put a hand at the small of her back and kiss her temple as she hustles to the stairs. “We’ll be here.”
As soon as she disappears to the upper level, doing her best to inconspicuously tug my shirt down over her bare ass, Trace erupts in silent laughter. “She turned a hundred shades of red. I’m sorry, but it’s funny.”
I shrug. My hard-on will wait. I haven’t seen my mother in a few days, and even if their visit is ill-timed, I’m happy they’re here. “We can swim later. Come in. Have a seat.” I gesture to the sofa on the other side of the room. “Something to drink?”
“Coffee,” my mom requests.
“Got a bottle of water?” Trace asks.
I get them both the beverage of their choice, then rush back to the family room. Harlow will be down soon, and I want to get a few minutes alone with my family.
Once they’re sipping happily, I sit in the chair beside my brother’s. “Harlow is from California. She’s just earned her master’s in speech pathology and wants to work with developmentally delayed kids. She’s…different.”
“From anyone you’ve dated?” Makuahine stirs her coffee contentedly. “It sounds as if she is your equal.”
I snap my head in her direction. “Yeah. But she’s complicated.”
“You need a challenge. When I’ve seen you with women in the past, you looked as if you could take or leave them. This one…perhaps not.”
It feels that way. “After what her ex put her through, I have to take things slow with her.”
“Of course.” My mother gives me a smile like she knows something I don’t.
Trace butts into my bewilderment. “I’m looking forward to talking to Harlow. Anything else we should know?”
“She doesn’t want to talk about her ex or the wedding. She’s close to her brothers and their wives, who live on the island. In fact, her brothers sold me this house. We met because she was house-sitting.”
My brother and I exchange a glance, and I know what he’s thinking. Why isn’t she leaving? I haven’t told them about my speech problems. I don’t want to worry my mother, and as much as I love my brother…he’s got a big mouth.
“So you two just hit it off?”
“Something like that. This is a big place, and she didn’t really have anywhere else to go that wasn’t with her brothers, both of whom recently got married and are trying to start their families, so she’s staying for a while. She gets me out of my shell. In fact, we went zip-lining earlier today.”
“You?” Trace looks stunned.
“I know. She sweet-talked me into it. I think tomorrow I’ll teach her to surf. That will keep her occupied for a while.”
“She cooks?” my mother asks.
“Yeah. That’s the other reason I was happy to have Harlow stay. She makes a mean pork roast.”
Trace adjusts in his seat and murmurs for my ears only. “I know that’s not the only reason you want her around.”
I smile blandly as my mother pretends she didn’t hear a word. “She makes you smile?”
“Yeah.” Sometimes she infuriates me too, but if I didn’t care, she’d never be able to get a rise out of me at all.
“Excellent. And she gives you pleasure?”
Trace almost spits out his water. “Makuahine, what a question to ask.”
“What? It’s important. They must have more than a meeting of minds.”
I feel myself turning slightly red. “Yes, she does. Can we drop it?”
Harlow sprints down the stairs in a pair of flowing pants and a shimmering black tank. It’s somehow casual and elegant, especially with her smile firmly in place. “Sorry about that. Let’s try this again. I’m Harlow. It’s nice to meet you, Trace. You and your brother look a lot alike.”
Trace shakes her hand, eyeing her with a grin. “We get that a lot. Great meeting you. And I swear, if Noah will keep his promise to call in the future, I won’t drop in unannounced.”
“Mrs. Weston, hello. It’s lovely to meet you. Can I get you a drink?”
My mother looks her over with an approving little nod. “I’m Malya.”
“I got them something. Sit and join us.”
She does, and for the next two hours we chat about everything—places we love visiting on the island, the fact that everyone except Makuahine hates poi, what it’s like to grow up here versus moving to Hawaii from the mainland. We talk some about my career, Harlow’s plans to pursue speech pathology, and Trace’s on-again-off-again interest in leaving his current job to pursue something that makes more money.
The easy conversation buoys me. It’s as if Harlow fits right into my family. She and my mother bond over their mutual passion for home decorating shows and The Rock. My brother and I both shake our heads.
When Makuahine sets her coffee aside and stands, she takes Harlow’s hand. “It was lovely to talk to you, but it’s nearly ten o’clock—way past this old woman’s bedtime. I hope we meet again.” She turns to me. “Walk me out, keikikane?”
“Son,” I interpret for Harlow. “I’ll be right back.”
“Nice to meet both of you,” Harlow says to my family as she takes the dirty cups and empty bottles to the kitchen. “’Night.”
I follow my brother out as he helps our mother navigate the path to the car.
“She’s awesome,” Trace says. “You seem really…complete when you’re with her. Don’t let her get away.”
Complete describes how I feel with Harlow. His observations validate my feelings. “Thanks, bro. I’m going to try like hell.”
“She likes you but she’s reserved.” My mother shakes her head. “Afraid.”
“Yeah.” But I’ve got to keep trying.
“I think she could make you very happy, keikikane. But you’ll have to reach her heart and make her feel secure first.”
So everything I’ve suspected and believed about Harlow is spot on. Now that people more objective about our relationship have confirmed that, I’m feeling way better about where I’m at with her. “That’s what I plan to do.”
No matter what it takes.