by Leslie North
Harris didn’t react. She peered up at him and found his attention riveted on something on the ground.
Oh God. What now? She lowered her gaze.
In her bid to get to Harris, she had opened the chest. It was empty.
“Seriously?” she snapped, fear and adrenaline screwed with her senses and made her jittery. “We were shot at for nothing?”
Harris began marching toward the house.
“You’re going to hurt something if you don’t put me down.”
“Please,” he uttered in a shaken, low tone, the trembling in his body increasing. “I just need to hold you. I could have lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I need to feel you safe and close.”
Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. “I need to feel you safe and close too.”
Harris didn’t stop until he sat them on the entertainment room’s sofa. He dialed 911 with one hand and pressed her to him with the other.
While he spoke with the emergency dispatch, terror raged through her all over again. She could have died—but what really scared her was that she could have lost him. Crystal clarity stripped her of the blinders she had purposefully been wearing, leaving one stunning revelation. She was falling in love with Harris McCallister.
12
“Thank you so much for staying at Winchester Manor Inn.” Rachel followed the grandmother and granddaughter to the edge of the freshly stained front porch. Harris had done an incredible job. The front of the old plantation-style house had never looked so good.
“Your bed-and-breakfast is beautiful,” the grandmother effused, pausing on the sidewalk. “I wish we had more time so I could poke around and soak up its history. We’ll definitely be back again.”
Rachel’s heart grew ten sizes just like the Grinch’s at that statement as she returned the shy eighteen-year-old granddaughter’s wave.
Closing the front door behind her, she glanced at the clock on the foyer’s credenza. Harris should be back in ten minutes. He had switched his therapy appointment to earlier than initially scheduled in hopes she wouldn’t be alone in the house, but the grandmother had wanted an early start on their trek back to southwestern Alabama.
Since the shooting, Rachel hadn’t been able to really relax and Harris had resembled a caged tiger. The police had no new leads and as of last night, they were still looking for both Tammy and Darryl to question.
Clomping up the steps, she debated whether to hop in the shower now or wait for Harris to come home…home. Shit. As much as she reminded herself that he was going back to active duty soon which meant deploying to God knew where on life-threatening missions, she couldn’t stop picturing him here with her permanently. Like a real family. Like a partner in life. Like someone she could grow old with.
Her heart thumped hard. Memories of him helping to serve dinner last night invaded. He insisted on carrying all the food to the buffet table and forced her to sit with the grandmother and granddaughter like she was an honored guest. More than once he had anticipated a need and was already up before she even had a chance to put her napkin down. And the granddaughter had not stop staring at him the entire time. Normally, guests were taken aback by Rachel’s colorful hair and tattoos, but Harris stole the focus. Yeah, he had an impact on all women, but he was positively lethal to Rachel’s heart. With every minute they spent together, she fell just a little more in love with him, and she couldn’t stop dreaming about him retiring from the Marines and helping her run the bed-and-breakfast full time.
What if it wasn’t just their child who took his last name—
Stop it. She physically shook herself. “Visiting Dreamland doesn’t come with a return bus, and the next stop on the route is Heartbreak City,” she muttered, carefully wending her way through the pile of baby crap that was growing alarmingly. She wasn’t sure how they were going to fit everything in the nursery once Harris declared it ready for decorating and arranging. They still hadn’t agreed on the theme of the room, but after today, that decision might become easier.
Spying a yellow onesie with dancing, cartoony zoo animals laying haphazardly over a shipping box hit her hard. A trill rushed through her veins, and she swore the baby flipped in excitement.
“Sweetheart?” Harris yelled from below. “You okay?”
“I’m upstairs,” she shouted, moving into their bedroom. God. Calling it their bedroom. A honey, I’m home greeting…she was in serious trouble.
Heavy boot tread pounded on the steps, then seconds later he appeared in the doorway like a glorious epitome of masculine perfection. “Hey.”
His eyes scanned her from head to toe and she did the same to him. Ohh. Muted sunlight filling the room caught the natural red highlights brimming through his lengthening brown hair. Beautiful. She loved how he kept putting off shaving it to military standards and secretly hoped he’d wait as long as possible.
Moving deeper into the bedroom, he asked, “You weren’t here alone long, were you?”
“Nah.” She pulled fresh panties from the drawer. “How did your appointment go?”
He grimaced. “It was just a ton of joy.” A twinkle started to shine in his eyes. “We may have talked about you. I lobbied for you to have to see him too.” He sauntered closer. “Your insistence on hijacking my mind with your stunning fairy fierceness is cause for concern.”
“You sure you have a mind to hijack?” she shot back, dodging into the bathroom to escape his pounce toward her.
“That’s cold, Winchester.” He darted after her and crowded her against the sink. “I really wish I could go with you to the sonogram appointment.”
Smoothing her hands up his pecs, she gazed at his darkening irises. “I wish you could go too.” They could possibly learn the sex of their baby today, and she really wanted him there for that milestone, but they couldn’t leave the B&B unprotected. With Darryl and Tammy in the wind, Harris had agreed to stay behind…but it rankled.
“I’m feeling intensely growly at being left behind.” He nuzzled her neck. “I think I need some extra loving.”
“You had ‘extra loving’ this morning.” She tilted her head to give him easier access. “And I need to shave my legs and other areas. You’ll just be in the way.” Her fingers burrowed into his hair, holding him in place.
“Cruel,” he muttered against her skin, then licked a trail up to her ear. “Leaving a man with a raging hard on and no relief.”
She wrenched away and turned on the shower’s faucets. “Is something wrong with your hand?” Stepping into the spray, she laughed at his muttered curses.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home,” Rachel answered Harris’s question using the CR-V’s hands-free system connected to her cellphone.
Harris growled through the SUV’s speakers. “Hurry up and get home already. I’m climbing the walls.” Something metal and glass crashed. “Goddamn it.” More glass tingled. “You didn’t really like the chandelier in the dining room, right? Great,” he kept going like she answered. “We can now buy a new one.” He blew out a breath. “Please hurry. I can’t concentrate until I know you’re safe.”
Peace settled inside her and she clung to the emotion. To have someone waiting at home was a novelty, to have him so worried about her that he couldn’t function was downright breathtaking. And scary as shit given how up in the air the future seemed to be.
“I never liked that chandelier anyway, and I’ve had my eye on a replacement in the lighting store,” she offered, not telling him the one she wanted was out of her budget. It looked like she was buying it now regardless. Stupid inspector for adding the old chandelier’s flickering bulb sockets on his list. “I just have one stop to make, then I’m on my way.” She pulled into the pharmacy’s parking lot. “You’ll see me in fifteen minutes.”
“One minute more and you’ll find me tearing up the roads in search of you.”
She hung up and exactly fourteen minutes later, she pulled into the B&B’s driveway.
The f
ront door flew open.
Before she had the vehicle turned off, heat and humidity flooded the SUV as he yanked open the door, pulled her out, and kissed her soundly.
“Did everything go okay?” he asked, pulling away.
She nudged him back, then grabbed the plastic bag. “The baby is healthy and strong.”
His shoulders slumped, and he entwined his hands with hers up the walkway. “And you? You’re okay?”
“Besides all the throwing up?” Stepping into the foyer, she lifted her chin to enjoy the air conditioning wafting over her. “I’m good. Don’t worry. Morning sickness is still normal at two months.” Keeping his hand, she tugged him. “Can you help me with something upstairs?”
A naughty gleam replaced the worry, and he grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
Leading him into her apartment’s bathroom, she held up the bag. “Can you help me dye my hair?” She had to work hard at keeping a straight face.
His smile drained and he blinked in confusion. “You want me to dye your hair?”
“Yes.” She hated buying dye from outside of her favorite website, but a plan hit her on the way home and the cheap, colorful dye popular at Halloween was the perfect choice to execute it.
“This is not what I had in mind,” he grumbled. “What do you need me to do?”
Turning to hide her smile, she opened the package inside the bag so he wouldn’t see the color. Pulling the plastic gloves out, she handed them to him. “Put these on.” Yanking the old beach towel she kept under the sink for just this purpose, she wrapped it around her shoulders.
He worked his fingers into the gloves, then held his hands up like a surgeon.
Sitting on the toilet, she mixed the chemicals into the provided plastic bottle per the instructions, then thrust it toward him. “Have at it.”
Taking the bottle like she was giving him a live grenade, he stepped closer. “What do I do?”
“Start at the top,” she instructed, “Squeeze some solution onto my hair, then work it in. Keep going until all of my hair is covered. Easy peasy.”
She didn’t catch his muttered retort, but figured it was not complimentary.
Despite his reluctance, it didn’t take him long to lose the hesitancy and start massaging her scalp like a pro.
“Oh my god,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “That feels so good.”
Long fingers worked through her hair and when he turned her to face him again, she found an impressive bulge at eye level. Saliva pooled in her mouth and she longed to lick and suck on him until he lost all control. Unable to move, she did the next best thing. With just the tips of her fingers, she ran them down his length.
He inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth. “I can understand why men work in salons if this is part of their payment,” he joked with a tone full of strain.
Lowering his zipper, she unbuckled his belt and freed the button on his shorts. Khaki cotton shushed to the floor with a hard thump and she blinked. She had forgotten about his gun he kept holstered at his back.
“It’s fine,” he answered her silent worry.
His dick twitched in his boxer briefs recapturing all her attention. Easing the material down with two fingers, his cock sprang free and seemed to yearn toward her. Grabbing the length with her right hand, she squeezed him hard like he liked, then rolled his balls in her other hand.
A groan emanated from over her head and he thrust his hips. She stroked him, varying her pace, but frustrated she couldn’t move her head to lean in and taste him.
“I’m done,” he uttered huskily. The bottle landed in the sink, and the gloves on top of it. She slapped the “Start” button on her phone’s timer, then wet her lips and leaned forward, but he stopped her.
“But—”
“I’m two seconds from exploding,” he stated, dropping to his knees on the shaggy bath rug. “I’m too primed.” Lifting her T-shirt, he caressed her nipples through her bra. They budded even tighter, and she squirmed at the sensations rocketing to her lower belly.
He unhooked her bra and warm breath pebbled her skin as he tongued her nipples.
“You are a master at that.” Peering down, moisture coated her channel at finding his eyes closed as if savoring her.
His teeth scraped over her bud, then he trailed the tip of his tongue through the valley between her breasts to worship her other nipple.
Knuckles dug into her stomach and she helped him dispose of her shorts and panties.
“Christ.” He stared at her freshly bald center. “You are a fucking fantasy.” He smoothed his hands up her thighs, but stopped just shy of touching her. She spread her legs and he growled. “So wet for me, my fierce fairy, but I think you need to be sopping.”
He tracked his tongue up her left thigh, skimmed her clit, then darted away.
“Tease,” she pouted, her vagina quivering in anticipation.
He did the same action again but with her right thigh.
“Harris,” she growled.
“Better, but not enough.”
He flicked his tongue on her clit. Again. And again, the licks so light she wanted to scream.
“Please,” she demanded, gripping his hair, but he wouldn’t be budged. He pulled her to the edge of the toilet and she leaned against the tank, widening her legs as far she could.
“Now we’re getting closer,” he whispered, then latched onto to her clit and sucked. Hard.
“Yes,” she cried, pumping her hips up and down.
One long finger invaded her channel, followed by a second.
“Harris.” She rode his fingers, the sensations spooling tighter and tighter.
He sucked harder, then flicked his tongue over her favorite spot.
“OH! OH! OH!” she cried, then the orgasm roared over her. Wave upon wave rushed through her and she whimpered at him continuing to lick and thrust his fingers.
“Again,” he growled, his plunges picking up speed.
Ding! The chime on her phone echoed off the walls.
Harris angled his head to peer up at her without slowing his tongue.
Anxiousness and excitement over her plan destroyed any chances of her coming a second time, so she caressed his cheeks. “Harris.”
He must have heard something in her tone because he instantly lifted his head.
She cleared her throat. “I have something to tell you.”
He stilled.
“When the dye is washed out, whatever color my hair is, is the gender of our baby.”
He sucked in a breath and shuddered. “For real? They were able to tell?”
She nodded. “Are you ready?”
He kissed her hard, then plucked her off the toilet and stepped inside the tub. She barely managed to close the shower curtain when the water started streaming down.
“You’re a maniac.” She laughed as her feet hit the non-slip mat. But she loved how invested he was.
Dye soaked into his clothes that he hadn’t taken off, but he didn’t seem to care as he helped her wash it all out.
“It’s a girl,” he breathed, his eyes widening as he fingered a dark pink clump of her hair which would be a lot lighter once it dried. “Holy shit.” His exuberant laugh bounced off the tiles. “We’re having a girl!” He threw his arms around her. “I hope she’s just like you.”
13
Harris filled the roller with more paint from the tray, then applied it to the wall he’d prepped after Rachel fell asleep last night. Shish. Shush. Shish. Shush. With even strokes from the long-handled roller, pale pink covered the white from floor to ceiling.
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Holy shit. He was about to become a father to a daughter. Him. A father. To. A. Daughter. The epiphany just refused to sink in.
Terror and elation continued to slap him in equal parts continuously ever since he found out yesterday. What in the hell did he know about raising a girl? For that matter, what in the hell did he know about raising a child no matter what the gender? Not a goddamn thing.
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br /> There came the terror again. What if he screwed up and scarred his daughter’s psyche for life? What if she wanted to follow in his footsteps and enter the military? Could he honestly stand by and allow it, knowing the atrocities she’d witness and the violence she’d have to enact? But telling her she couldn’t join would make him a double-standard asshole, and he couldn’t allow that either.
Shish. Shush. Shish. Shush. He hoped like hell Rachel would be the dominant influence. If their daughter grew up even a fraction like her mother, then she would succeed in life.
He had left a message for Lee, but Chance had answered his phone and had thoroughly enjoyed ratcheting up Harris’s anxiety by reminding him just how horny they were in high school. Fuck. Harris shuddered again. No way in hell would he allow his daughter to date until she graduated college…and even then it would be chaperoned by him and his gun.
Re-saturating the roller, he let his chaotic thoughts run free in the early morning silence. If he ignored the paint fumes that filled the nursery, the repetitive motion was a kind of therapy. Painting also gave him another way to show Rachel how much he continued to fall in love with her without putting her on the spot with words. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to see her reaction to that particular confession yet and hoped with a little more time he could work up the nerve or at the very least, have a better sense of how she felt.
Shish. Shush. Shish. Shush. Yesterday evening, when Rachel had gone to the kitchen to throw a simple dinner together—even though he offered to order a pizza—he had snuck in a phone call to the hardware store and bribed the store manager to meet him at the crack of dawn this morning. Instead of heading out for his run, he had stuffed strands of Rachel’s newly dyed hair he found in the tub into a baggie, then met the manager at the store. The guy had slapped Harris’s back in an enthusiastic congratulations, then helped him pick and mix gallons of paint. Harris then crept back into the house with two different shades.