by Lucy Gilmore
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be sound asleep by the time I come back,” he said, making quick work of discarding the condom and putting enough clothes on so he wouldn’t lose any limbs to the cold. “I can’t be held accountable for my actions if you aren’t.”
She sighed with mock heaviness and pulled the sleeping bag up to her chin like a child hiding from a monster under her bed. “With threats like that, I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again. I guess I’ll just have to pay for my sins, won’t I?”
Harrison’s response was a long, hard look that had no power to move her. As he was rapidly coming to learn, he had no power over her at all.
And to be perfectly honest, he didn’t care one bit. Pain was inevitable, loss a way of life. For now, he just wanted to enjoy Sophie for as long as he could manage to hold on.
Chapter 16
As was the case with most things in life, all good things had to come to an end.
“Um, you know how I mentioned that thing about my mom?” Sophie asked as she, Harrison, and Bubbles pulled up the road to the Parks farmhouse. All three of them smelled like stale smoke and looked like dried meat, but that seemed about right. Camping was serious business. “About how she’s staying at my house right now?”
Harrison grunted a noncommittal response. To be fair, his attention was taken up with his truck’s sharp turn into the drive, but he could have at least provided a yes or a no answer. She wasn’t such a fool that she assumed a few hot sexual interludes in the wilderness would cure Harrison of his taciturnity forever, but she’d hoped they’d at least have reached the monosyllabic stage.
Alas, not even the lure of her mighty vagina was that strong. Her determination to prove the rest of her was that strong, however, compelled her to keep going.
“According to this series of increasingly outraged texts from Dawn, it seems she has no intention of leaving anytime soon,” she said. “She’s even talking about installing one of those beds that pulls down from the wall and making her stay a prolonged one.”
The truck came crunching to a halt, and Harrison cranked the parking brake. “Because she’s being overprotective?”
“Well, yes.”
She shifted in her seat, grateful for the need to get Bubbles comfortably out of the cab. Nothing provided a distraction quite like a puppy. They were a lot like babies that way. Slinging her bag over one shoulder and her purse over the other, she scooped the dog up and opened the door. To her surprise, Harrison was waiting on the other side. Wordlessly, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and helped her down.
His truck was tall—taller than her Fiat, certainly—but she could have easily made it down on her own. In fact, this kind of assistance, this careful solicitude, was the exact thing she resented from anyone related to her by blood. She was no small, precious thing that needed to be guarded from the world.
But as Harrison’s hands lingered and his fingers crept down toward her ass, she felt nothing but a delightfully girlish thrill. To be cherished and protected because she was perceived as weak was a thing she loathed. To be cherished and protected because Harrison couldn’t keep his hands off her was something she could get used to.
Way too used to, if the sudden throb between her legs was any indication.
He set her on the ground with his hands still in place. Sophie had to look up to meet his gaze, which she did with easy frankness. Just as frankly—but not as easily—she said, “The reason my mom is being like this is because of you. She heard about our, um, altercation at knitting circle and decided you were out to destroy her precious darling.”
A frown touched the corners of Harrison’s mouth. “I was afraid of that.”
“I’m sure this weekend has given her time to cool off, but—”
“You should stay here,” he said, the offer fairly tripping off his tongue.
Those words were exactly what Sophie had been angling for, but she’d expected to have to put forth a lot more effort first. This weird, old house was Harrison’s castle, his home. Considering how strongly he’d reacted when she’d brought out the candles, she’d been prepared to plead her case—and plead it hard.
With sad, raisin eyes if she had to.
“Only if it’s what you want, I mean,” he added. His hands on her waist tightened, gripping her almost urgently. “I can’t promise my dad will like having a houseguest, and it’s hardly the Ritz around here, but you did say there would be some night training, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes. But—”
“Then there you go,” he said. “We might as well start now.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Her gaze searched his, but she was having a hard time reading him. The offer sounded sincere enough, but there was something shifty in the way he made it. It was almost as if he had an ulterior motive in asking her to stay.
What that motive might be, however, she had no idea.
“I’m sorry.” He dropped his hands from her waist and stepped back. “I didn’t mean to be pushy. If you don’t want to—”
“No! No, I do.” Sophie put Bubbles into his hands, once again grateful that the puppy gave her something concrete to do. Her fingers brushed against Harrison’s as they made the exchange, both of them weirdly fumbling.
Huh. Arguing with this man was easy. Sleeping with him a delight. But for some reason, this attempt at honest conversation was seriously tripping her up. The fact that he seemed just as awkward as she did helped her to add, “I do have one stipulation though.”
“Why do you sound so cautious?”
“Because I don’t think you’ll like it.”
His breath came out as a laugh. “When has that ever stopped you from doing things your own way before?”
A relieved grin spread across her face. Here, at least, she knew what she was doing. “Good point. I appreciate the offer to stay here, and I’m going to shamelessly take you up on it, but I think I should be in my own bed—my own room.”
The expression on his face fell with such speed it might have been a bowling ball dropped from the top of the Space Needle. She leaped forward to reassure him, to tell him that it wasn’t a personal choice so much as a professional one, but his dad sauntered out of the front door before she could get the words out.
“Harrison, I only meant—”
“There you are.” Instead of his usual overalls, Wallace was dressed in thick black canvas pants and a checked shirt that fit him tighter than his usual garb. “I’ve been sitting around this house all damn day, waiting for you kids to get back.”
Harrison swiveled to stare at his dad. “When have you ever cared about my whereabouts?”
Wallace’s laugh was a cackle. “Never—and I still don’t, so you can get down off your holy steed. I was talking to Sophie. Do you have a few minutes before you head home?”
“Actually, I—” she began.
“Dad, I invited Sophie to stay with us for a little while.” Harrison’s voice was equal parts defiance and trepidation. “I told you early on that she might need to stay overnight for some of the training, remember?”
Wallace’s face lifted, and he snapped his fingers. “That’s perfect! She can stay in the bedroom at the top of the stairs. It’s probably dusty as all hell, but I’m sure the pair of you can set it to rights in no time.”
Sophie felt more relief than she cared to admit at that invitation. As much as she would have loved to stay in Harrison’s room—and in his arms—to do so would push the bounds of what she could reasonably sell to her family. What happened at the campground on her weekend off stayed at the campground on her weekend off, but she was technically earning a salary during the week. Having her own room would make it impossible for her family to storm the Parks lands in hopes of retrieving their lost damsel.
“Thank you, Wallace. That would be perfect. Since it’s across from Harrison’s room, we won’t disturb you for the puppy’s night training.”
“Then it’s done.” Wallace clapped. “
The room is yours.”
“Wait—what?” Harrison glanced back and forth between them. Sophie had thought he’d be pleased to find his father such a willing convert to their cause, but he looked more hurt than anything else. “Are you serious? You’re giving her your old room? Mom’s old room? Just like that?”
A sinking feeling took over Sophie’s gut. She’d known that bedroom was weirdly shrine-like, untouched by cleaning products or time, but she’d assumed it had occasionally been used by the beloved Aunt Caroline.
Not a mother and father. Not a husband and wife.
“It doesn’t have to be that one,” she said quickly, eager to keep the peace. “I’ll be just as happy on the couch, I promise. Besides, it’ll only be for a few nights, so it doesn’t really matter where I stay.”
She might as well have not been there for all the attention the two Parks men paid her.
“Why not?” Wallace asked as he crossed his arms and squared to meet his son. “It’s been sitting there empty for twenty goddamn years.”
“Twenty-two goddamn years, you mean,” Harrison replied. “But who’s counting?”
“You, apparently.”
“Oh, right. Because I’m the weird one here. I’m the one who forbade anyone to touch anything in that room after she left.”
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did. You said it all the time.” Harrison lifted the puppy in a protective curl against his chest. He didn’t even seem to notice that Bubbles took an equally protective pose, her eyes appraising Wallace as if trying to decide whether or not he was about to disturb her beloved master. “You said it on birthdays. You said it on holidays. You said it when I graduated. In fact, you said it anytime I showed the least desire to move on with my life.”
“I don’t remember—”
“Leave it, you said. Leave it all. I like it this way.”
The older man looked uncomfortably away. “Well, you should have known better than to listen to me.”
“I was a kid! Listening to you wasn’t really optional.”
It seemed prudent for Sophie to intervene. Whatever her family’s problems, they paled in comparison to the emotion pulsing between these two hard, stubborn men. “I didn’t mean to start anything, you two. Honestly. Why don’t I head home, and we’ll revisit this plan later? You guys can probably use the space.”
“You’re staying here,” Harrison said, turning his attention to her. His eyes were hard, but they softened as they landed on her. “You can’t abandon me yet, Sophie. Please.”
“Yeah, you’re staying here.” Wallace sounded just as determined, though without the intensity that was exuding off Harrison in waves. “It’s my house, and I’ll invite whoever I damn well please to stay in it.”
Sophie looked back and forth between them, a smile playing at her lips despite the gravity of the conversation. They were literally fighting for the same thing, and neither one of them seemed to notice the irony of it.
“With such polite offers from you both, how can I refuse?” she said sweetly. “I’ll call my sisters and have one of them bring me a bag. But I’ll be staying on the couch until you can work something better out between you. I’m not about to sleep in a room that hasn’t been touched in over two decades. I didn’t want to have to admit it to two such robust outdoorsmen as yourselves, but I’m scared of ghosts.”
“The devil you are,” Harrison said, watching her. “You aren’t scared of anything.”
“Of this kind of ghost?” she asked. Of the past, of the woman who somehow broke these two glorious, hardheaded men? “Are you kidding? I’m terrified.”
* * *
Despite her most earnest protestations, Sophie ended up in Harrison’s bedroom. The weird embargo on the room that had belonged to his mother stayed in place, but instead of letting her crash on the couch like she wanted, he insisted she take the privacy and comfort of his room instead.
“That couch is too damn lumpy,” he’d said as though it were the clincher in the argument.
It had been another one of those moments that could have easily riled her temper—she was just as capable of sleeping on lumps as the next girl, thank you very much—but Harrison’s motives had been nothing but chivalrous. Well, mostly.
It’s the least I can do after subjecting you to all that.
I mean it—there could be things living in that couch that no human should have to cohabitate with.
Goddammit, Sophie, would you stop being difficult and just do as I ask for once?
With such obvious displays of affection on the table, she had no choice but to relent. Besides, there was something so deliciously forbidden about being invited into the place where Harrison Parks slept. Unlike the rest of the house, it was cozy and neat and incredibly like him. The wallpaper was a more masculine blue pinstripe than the faded florals in the hallway, and the floors had been meticulously sanded and redone sometime in the past decade. She’d almost expected him to go for sleek metallics and modern fixtures, but all the pieces had the worn look of well-loved furniture—antiques, probably, and as old as the house itself.
It was, she realized, a glimpse at what this house could be, if only it were allowed to recover from whatever blight had placed it in a time warp oh so many years ago. Twenty-two so many years ago, most likely.
A knock sounded at the door before she could make the mistake—or delight—of snooping through Harrison’s drawers. Assuming it was one of her sisters with a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries, she sprang from the bed to answer it. With any luck, it would be Dawn. Lila was a gem of a sister, and Sophie wouldn’t trade her for the world, but she’d probably pack things like full-length flannel nightgowns to ward off chills and the retainer Sophie hadn’t worn since she was eighteen. Dawn could be trusted to throw in something with straps or lace. Possibly both.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as she pulled on the handle only to stop and find herself facing the tall, sparse frame of Wallace Parks.
“Doubt it” came his prompt reply. He peered around the door as if to ensure she was alone. Finding that she was, he added, “I came to ask you a favor.”
“Of course.”
She gestured for him to follow her inside. From the surprised way he took in the sight of his son’s room, it was obvious he hadn’t been in there in some time—if ever. It seemed strange to her, this disinterest so intense it bordered on the perverse, but there was obviously a lot about this family she didn’t understand.
Wallace was careful to close the door behind him, sealing the two of them alone in the quiet of the room. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, casting furtive glances to each of the corners as if expecting a hiding shadow to pounce, so Sophie did her best to put him at ease.
“I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here for a bit,” she said with what she hoped was calm friendliness. She sat on the bed, the soft mattress sinking under her weight. “I know it’s not always pleasant, having a virtual stranger drop in and tell you all the work that needs to be done on your home—”
“Work?” Wallace’s voice was sharp with suspicion. “What do you mean, work? You already put all those damn plastic things in the outlets and made it impossible to pee in the middle of the night. What else is there to do?”
She’d never be able to say what prompted her to reply the way she did, but she repressed a smile and said, “I’d like to put tablecloths out, if you don’t mind. They really improve the appearance of a room, don’t you think?”
Wallace’s only response was to harrumph, which told her everything she needed to know.
“Oh my,” she said. “You totally like Bubbles now, don’t you?”
He didn’t meet her eye. “She’s all right.”
“With that adorable little face…”
“I still think she looks like a rat.”
“And those tiny clacking paws…”
“Keeps me up all night.”
“And the way Harrison has fallen comp
letely and totally in love with her…”
Wallace blinked, and just like that, he relaxed. He didn’t go so far as to sit in the leather club chair in the corner, but his shoulders came down and some of the heavy lines of his face sagged. “She’s been good for him, hasn’t she?”
“I think so, yes.”
“You both have.” Wallace spoke with the certainty of a man who was accustomed to having his word accepted as law—a fact borne out when he didn’t give Sophie time to do more than blush and struggle to come up with an appropriate reply. “You’re good at people, right? At women people?”
Her embarrassment quickly gave way to laughter, but she was careful to suppress it. As delightful as it was to laugh at Harrison, she doubted that approach would prove as effective with his father.
“I’m pretty good at women people, yes. My whole family is.” Almost as an apology, she added, “In addition to one very opinionated mother, I have two very opinionated sisters. My poor dad has been dominated by femininity for as long as I can remember.”
Wallace nodded as though this made perfect sense. He didn’t, however, speak.
“Um. Is there a woman in your life?” she prodded. “One you’re…seeing?”
He cast her a sharp-eyed glance. “What do you know about it?”
To tell him that she and Harrison had witnessed him gallivanting through Spokane dressed to impress would only fluster the poor man, so she said the only other thing that made sense—the truth.
“You seem happy.”
His face folded in a smile, the deep lines around his eyes crinkling in the process. “I am happy.” The smile disappeared as easily as it had come. “I should say I could be happy. I’m not so sure I deserve it.”
Her heartstrings gave a strong tug. “What’s her name?”
“Minerva.”
“Oh, that’s a lovely name.” Sophie patted the mattress next to her. “Where did you meet? Online? A dating app?”
He didn’t take her invitation—or her bait. “How we met isn’t important. And I don’t need your advice on any of that other stuff…the love stuff. The thing is, I want to buy her something big, something nice. But not jewelry.”