She’d tried to keep a straight face and lost the battle before the first word even left her lips. “I have officially joined the ranks of all you ridiculously swoony, googly-eyed girls. I’m in love with Harley, and it has nothing to do with lotions or potions or anything else other than us.”
Their squeals came seconds before the arms of all six women were around her as they cheered and talked over one another. Piper soaked in every blessed second of it, though she said, “Did we not just talk about this?”
The women scrambled back.
“Sorry,” Bridgette and Aurelia said nervously.
“We got carried away,” Talia said.
“We’re just so happy for you,” Willow added.
Roxie put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing as she said, “I’m your mother, and I will not make an excuse for hugging you and celebrating your love for Harley.” Her mother’s arms circled her again, and she said, “I noticed a bottle of the body wash Harley likes missing from my supply yesterday. Did you take it?”
“A little extra insurance doesn’t hurt,” Piper confessed. She’d ducked into her mother’s workshop after meeting with her father yesterday afternoon. “Don’t mention it to Harley. I put it in the store-bought bottle.”
“The apple does not fall far from the tree, baby girl.”
Her mother hugged her again, and the others looked on longingly, filling up Piper’s heart even more. She sighed and said, “Get in here, you big pains.”
More cheers and hugs ensued, and for the first time in her entire life, Piper realized she wasn’t so different from them after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE HARMONY POINTE Middle School gym was decorated with balloon arches over the dance floor and silver stars hanging from the ceiling. A group of high schoolers were streaming music from laptops on the stage, but nobody was dancing. Girls huddled together decked out in fancy dresses, whispering behind their hands, while fathers milled about sipping punch and trying not to look too far out of their element. Harley might be out of his element, but nothing could throw him off his game today. He was too high on love, fighting the urge to tell everyone, Piper loves me! She’d texted him at Dutch’s earlier with the message Get ready to strip down. Hotness is on its way. He loved her unabashed sexual nature, and he’d gotten all revved up thinking about her coming over for some lovin’ in the middle of the day. Imagine his surprise when a gift box had arrived via courier instead of his sexpot girlfriend. She’d sent him a pair of dark jeans, a crisp white dress shirt, a light purple tie, and a pair of white Converse, with a card that read You’ll be the hottest man at the dance. Love you, Trig. He had no idea when she’d found the time to shop, much less how she knew his sizes. But when his girl had the will, she always found a way.
She’d made his day . . . again.
After work, he’d changed into the clothes Piper had sent him, which fit perfectly, and picked up a wrist corsage for Jolie from Bridgette’s flower shop. Jolie, Sophie, and Delaney had gushed over it. Jolie had been a nervous wreck when they’d arrived at the dance twenty minutes ago, fidgeting with her dress and standing behind him. She was finally loosening up a little and no longer hiding behind him.
“Do you want to go talk with your friends?”
Jolie shook her head, still fidgeting with the hem of her simple light purple dress. One knee was bent, the toes of her Converse resting on the floor. She looked beautiful and innocent, just like her mother had at that age.
Harley silently vowed to do a better job of protecting her from assholes like her father than he had for Delaney. “You’re the prettiest girl here. You should get out there and dance, show off that dress.”
She blushed and rolled her eyes.
“You can roll your eyes, but I sure hope I have a daughter as cool as you one day. Do you think when I have kids you can teach them to play soccer?”
“Can’t you do that?”
“Not really. I can teach them to pour drinks, play football, or pilot a boat, but I pretty much suck at soccer.”
She seemed to think about that for a minute before saying, “Are you going to marry Piper?”
Surprised, he said, “Where did that come from?”
She shrugged. “She’s your girlfriend.”
“Couples don’t always get married, Jo.”
“I’m never getting married.”
His heart hurt at that. She was too young to be making such a determination. “Aw, come on. You don’t know how you’ll feel when you meet that special someone and fall in love.”
“I’m never falling in love,” she said as casually and confidently as if she’d said her sneakers were purple.
“Well, I hope you do, because love is wonderful.”
“If I don’t fall in love, I won’t get hurt.”
He wondered if Piper had told her that and quickly dismissed the idea, knowing Piper would never thrust her views on a child. “Not everyone gets hurt when they fall in love.” He held her gaze and said, “Do you remember Grandpa?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember how much he loved Grandma?”
She wrinkled her nose. “They were always kissing and holding hands.”
“Exactly. Love can be wonderful. And while it’s true that some people aren’t meant to be in relationships, I don’t think that you’re one of them. You’re a loving, smart girl, and one day you’re going to meet someone who makes your heart flutter.”
“Uncle Harley . . .”
“Okay, maybe your heart won’t flutter. Maybe you’ll go to a soccer game with him, and you’ll laugh, share hot dogs, and hold hands. Before you know it, you won’t be able to imagine how you ever lived your life without him in it.”
She bit her bottom lip and lowered her eyes. “Do you think so?” she asked softly.
He lifted her chin and said, “I know so, because you’re an amazing girl, and some lucky guy is going to see that and never let you go.”
She smiled, and it reached all the way up to her eyes.
“But you’re not dating until you’re thirty anyway, so you don’t have to worry about that for a while.”
“Thirty? I’ll be old!”
“That’s okay. Old is good. It keeps Uncle Harley sane.” He reached for her hand and said, “Come on. Let’s dance and show these boring dads how to have fun.”
She pulled her hand back. “Nobody’s dancing, Uncle Harley!”
“So? Just because they don’t want to have fun doesn’t mean we can’t.”
She shook her head again.
“You’re going to make me dance by myself?” He walked backward onto the dance floor.
“Don’t! Please don’t!”
Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” came on, and Harley moved his shoulders to the beat. “I can’t help it. I just keep moving.” He turned in a circle and put both hands out, beckoning her to the dance floor with his wiggling fingers.
Jolie was beet red, shaking her head and covering her face, peeking out between her fingers. Her eyes darted all around her. But Harley was determined to help her have a good time, and by the way the other little girls were smiling and inching closer as he twirled and shook his hips to the beat, mouthing the words to the song—because Jolie and Sophie used to play it every time they were together—he knew they were close to a breakthrough.
“Come on, Jolie!” He danced around her as her friends closed in on them.
“Your uncle is a good dancer!” a blond girl said.
Another little girl pointed at him and said, “I wish my dad could do that!”
Harley motioned to the high schoolers to repeat the song after it was over, buying him a little more time since he had no idea how many songs he could pull this off to.
Soon a gaggle of girls were gathered around Jolie. Harley pointed to them and said, “Everyone out on the dance floor!” and a group of them ran toward him, giggling. They all started dancing. Jolie was grinning, but still standing over to the side. “Come on, Jo! L
et’s show them how it’s done!”
“Come on, Jolie!” a dark-haired girl urged.
Two other girls ran to Jolie and took her hands, dragging her onto the dance floor. She finally relented, dancing reluctantly at first. She quickly got caught up in the excitement and danced her little heart out, laughing and wiggling to the beat. It didn’t take long for fathers and more daughters to join them. They danced to Katy Perry, Pink, some boy bands, and bands Harley had never heard before.
An hour later, Harley knew most of the fathers’ and little girls’ names, and Jolie was no longer nervous at all.
Toward the end of the dance, while Jolie was dancing with her friends, Harley went to get some water, and two men followed him to the snack table.
“How’s it going?” Harley said.
“Great. You saved our asses,” a tall, lean, clean-cut dark-haired guy said. “I’m Gary Lanigan. My daughter Teri is in the red dress.”
“And I’m Ike Preacher. My Kensey is in the yellow dress.” Ike was burly like Harley, with a thick beard and tattoo sleeves. “We’re single dads, and we don’t know shit about dancing. You saved our daughters loads of embarrassment.”
He shook their hands and said, “I’m Harley Dutch, Jolie’s uncle. Seems like the girls are having fun.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to see them so happy,” Ike said. “Thanks for your business, too. You hired our company, At Your Service, to bring dinners to Delaney. She’s an amazing person.”
“She is, thank you. It’s good to meet the men behind the business. Your dinners saved her from herself. I know my sister, and she would have worn herself out trying to do everything on her own.”
“No problem,” Gary said. “We appreciate your business. Ike’s buddies own a company called Husbands for Hire in the cities where they live. They do handyman work, mechanics, running errands, that sort of thing. We’re joining forces over the next few months and expanding our services. We’d appreciate it if you’d keep us in mind.”
“Absolutely. With so many single parents and families where both parents work full-time, that’s a brilliant business concept.”
The last song of the night was announced, and Harley said, “I’ll definitely keep you guys in mind and help spread the word. I need to grab my niece for this dance, but if you’re ever in Sweetwater, I run Dutch’s Pub. Come by and I’ll buy you a drink and introduce you around.”
He found Jolie huddled with her friends from soccer. “Last song of the night, girls. Go find your fathers. I’m sure they’d love to dance with you.”
The girls ran off to find their fathers as “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack started playing. He offered his hand to Jolie, and they made their way to the dance floor.
“Did you have fun?” he asked as they danced.
“So much fun. Thank you for bringing me.”
“It was an honor to be your date.”
After the song ended, they said goodbye to Jolie’s friends and their fathers. On the way out to the truck, Harley said, “Listen, Jo. I may not be your dad, but I am your uncle, and I love you and Soph. I want you to know that you can always count on me, no matter what. If you ever want to talk or hang out at my place. If anyone bugs you at school, or a boy asks you out and I need to give him a shakedown.”
“Uncle Harley.” She giggled.
“I’m serious. If you, Sophie, or your mom ever need anything, I’m here, okay? And when you grow up and go away to college, you can bet I’ll visit you and send you care packages. I’ll dance with you at that wedding you’re not going to have, and I’ll even walk you down the aisle if you’re still talking to me by then.”
“Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”
“Because you can bet that I’ll shake down the guy who you end up marrying, too.”
She giggled again, the greatest sound of the night.
“Did Piper’s brother shake you down?”
“He did.”
“But you’re still with her.”
“Yes, and I hope to always be with her. A shakedown isn’t to scare guys away. It’s to weed through the wrong guys. Sort of like tasting ice cream to be sure the aftertaste isn’t horrible.”
Her brows knitted. “Oh. Then you should shake them out.”
“Shake them down. Gotta know the lingo, kiddo.” He unlocked the passenger door and said, “Just know I love you and you can always count on me, okay?”
She nodded and climbed into the truck. As she put on her seat belt, she said, “I hope when I’m twenty I meet a guy like you.”
“Didn’t I say thirty?”
“Yes, but that’s old. Twenty is better.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and said, “Twenty-five.”
“Nineteen,” she countered.
Delaney was in big trouble with this one, and he told her as much when he dropped Jolie off after the dance. He was still chuckling over Delaney’s response—“Guess that means you’ll be sitting on my front porch with a shotgun during the girls’ teenage years”—as he pulled away from the curb and called Piper.
“Is this the woman who loves Harley Dutch?” he asked when she answered the phone.
“That depends. Is this Charlie Hunnam? If so, then, baby, I’m as single as a one-dollar bill.”
“That dude from Sons of Anarchy? He’s a squirrel.”
“A damn hot squirrel, which is a shame since I’m pretty sure my much hotter grizzly could shred him to pieces. How was the dance? Did Jolie have fun?”
“She was nervous at first, but I think she had a great time. She loved my outfit. Thank you for making me look good.”
“You always look good.”
She probably had no idea she revealed her heart in everything she did and said, and he loved it. “By the way, I’m never having daughters.”
“No shit. Girls are way too emotional and hard to figure out. Maybe you can train your sperm as well as you trained Jiggs and have only boys.”
He wanted to read more into her comment than she probably intended—that she might want kids with him one day and was totally up for boys, but he knew better. Besides, patience had worked so far; that’s where he was putting his bet.
“I’ll get right on that. I hear it takes lots of practice.”
“I’m all for practice,” she said seductively.
“Man, Pipe, I sure do love you, and I love that now I can say that without worrying about scaring you off. I’m heading home. Meet me at my place?”
“I’ve got my bag in the car. I just got back from walking Jiggs. We’ll be right behind you.”
He ended the call and loosened his tie as he drove by the pub, smiling to himself as Piper’s earlier text came to mind. That text might have been referencing clothes, but soon he’d have his hot girlfriend in his arms and his buddy by his side. Life didn’t get much better than that.
As he pulled into his driveway, his headlights illuminated an unfamiliar motorcycle with Colorado plates. He cut the engine, and as he stepped from his truck, the silhouette of a man came around the back of the house.
“Can I help you?” Harley called out.
He squinted into the darkness as the man came forward. Harley’s hands fisted by his sides, years of anger and resentment storming through him as he took in the brother he hardly recognized. A thick beard and mustache disguised Marshall’s face, harsh tattoos covered his flesh, but there was no mistaking his eyes, which still held the promise and arrogance of trouble in the making.
“What the hell do you want?” Harley heard the warning in his own voice. His fingers unfurled, only to recoil even tighter as Piper’s truck pulled into the driveway, fueling his rage. Marshall had hurt his family—and Piper—enough. He wasn’t about to let him do it again.
“Hey, Har,” Marshall said in his frustratingly typical carefree way.
Harley didn’t take his eyes off Marshall as Piper and Jiggs got out of her truck. “Don’t ‘hey, Har’ me. What the fuck are you doing here?” Jiggs bounded over, veer
ing toward Marshall. “Jiggs! Here,” Harley commanded, stopping his dog in his tracks. Jiggs came to his side, and Harley touched the dog’s head.
Marshall’s eyes shifted in Piper’s direction, his brow furrowing.
Harley’s gut seized. Don’t even fucking look at her. You’ve hurt her enough. He stepped into his brother’s line of sight and said, “Piper, take Jiggs inside.”
“Not a chance.” She moved to his side and crossed her arms, glowering at Marshall.
Damn it. Why did he even try? He pinned a dark stare on Marshall. “I said, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I . . . uh . . .” Marshall’s eyes moved curiously between Harley and Piper. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “I wanted to come home and see everybody.”
“That’s just fucking great.” Harley’s voice escalated. “Still the same old Marshall. Where the hell were you when Delaney’s husband left her with a baby and one on the way? Did you want to see everyone then? Did it ever cross your mind to come home and help your only sister find her fucking way through life without losing her mind?” He closed the distance between them, unable to temper his rage. “How about when Dad got sick and Mom needed you most? When our father was dying? When Delaney and the girls were so fucking scared they couldn’t see straight? Where were you then? Where were you when Dad died?”
Jiggs growled at Marshall, standing sentinel beside Harley.
Harley grabbed Marshall by the shirt, lifting him to within an inch of his face, vaguely aware of Piper saying something, but her words were lost to the blood thundering through his ears. “I’ll tell you where you were,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “Off taking care of Marshall, just like always. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not a Dutch.”
He shoved Marshall so hard his brother stumbled, catching himself with both hands on the hood of Harley’s truck.
Harley stalked over and said, “Get the fuck off my property.” He grabbed Piper by the arm and dragged her up the porch steps with Jiggs at his heels.
Harley paced the living room like a caged panther greedy for a good slaughter, muscles corded, hands fisted, eyes as harrowing and icy as a winter storm. Jiggs kept pace beside him, looking worried. Piper didn’t even know that was possible for a dog.
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