He had to turn this situation around immediately.
Of course, he’d paved the way for that already.
I know this isn’t going anywhere.
He’d spoken that aloud for the both of them. And for all he knew, she was packed up and heading out of town this very minute. The expression on her face as she’d run out without even drinking an entire cup of coffee hadn’t given him a clue as to where she thought things between them stood, now that they’d slept together.
But of course, he had clearly expressed the state of his head.
I know this isn’t going anywhere, okay?
Had that remark cut off any second chance for them? Second chancing in the sack, that was.
Which, really, was the best plan—not doing it again. Their interlude was over.
One and done.
The towel made a satisfying splat on the drum of the washing machine when he threw it inside. But the ensuing echo didn’t cover up the sound of a car pulling into his drive. His pulse leaped. Harper?
Back to discuss why she’d left so abruptly? Back to discuss what exactly had led them into the sheets?
Or just back for more sex.
He’d take it, he decided, striding toward the front of the house.
But standing on his doorstep wasn’t one green-eyed brunette. Instead it was a cute streaky blonde with brown eyes that looked a lot like his. He swung open the door. “What’s up, Tracy?”
His sister pushed past him. “Looking for coffee.”
“Harry’s is between your place and mine.” He followed at her heels into the kitchen. “And I must admit they make a better brew than me.”
“But their coffee doesn’t come with a free car wash,” she said, reaching for a mug.
“Or a younger brother, accustomed to years of your childhood bullying, to do the washing?”
“Right.” She took a first sip, considered. “Your coffee’s not so bad.”
He smiled. She had more energy than any three women, and he hadn’t seen her in a while. Then his smile died. Not only was she energy-filled, she was unfailingly nosy. Had she sniffed out the fact he’d had an overnight guest? “What brings you here again?”
“A car wash. I told you.”
There was a glint in her eye he didn’t trust. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I might have seen a strange car in front when I arrived. And then I may have waited half a block away in my car while watching for your guest to make the exit of shame.”
He frowned. “She wasn’t ashamed of anything. She shouldn’t be ashamed of anything.”
Tracy held up a palm. “Sorry, just kidding. But I can’t pretend I didn’t see that it was Harper Hill leaving early this very fine morning. I even stayed in my car for a while longer in case she decided to return for more of your scintillating company.”
Harper hadn’t returned for more of his scintillating company. He grunted.
“So…” Tracy said, with an encouraging scoop of her hand. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
His sister’s eyebrows shot toward her forehead. “So touchy.”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about.” One and done.
She opened her mouth, closed it. Then she turned toward the coffeepot to top off her mug. “Okay. So how about we get into a discussion about me then?”
“You?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have anyone leaving my place this morning and I didn’t leave anyone else’s either. My life needs something.”
“You could get a dog. That’s what I’m thinking about.” So he didn’t get in the habit of conversing with a fake one.
“I want something of the more humanoid variety.”
Tracy was a pediatric nurse, which meant she had skills, empathy, and a very busy schedule. He couldn’t remember the last time she had someone special—well, yeah, he could remember it, and to think she was finally ready for a new relationship upped his mood. “That’s great, Trace. Do you have anyone in mind? Make Mom happy and tell me it’s a doctor.”
Her eyes rolled. “As if I’d date a doctor. They give it all at work and rumor is they come home and dive into journals as if their patients’ lives depend upon it.”
He blinked. “Might their patients’ lives depend upon it? Being up on the latest medical info seems like a good thing.”
Tracy waved that away. “I was wondering about Raf.”
“Raf?”
“Your friend Rafael, of course. Sure, I’m four years older than him, but now that he’s not twelve, I noticed he’s turned out very handsome and it wouldn’t be illegal or immoral.”
“Where’d you see Raf?”
“I ran into him leaving the hospital. He was on his way in to check on one of his workers who’d cut his hand on the job.”
“Ah.” Work and poker night were probably the only times Raf wasn’t looking at women, looking for women, schmoozing a woman. Sometimes his half brother and best friend’s woman. “Look. Raf’s—”
“Incredibly handsome. That smile, the glossy black hair, the physique…how does he keep himself so muscle-y?”
He eyed his sister. “I don’t think he’s much interested in settling down.”
“I’m not either!” Tracy said. “I want to have fun. Date a lot. Date around. And I have to start somewhere. Will you give him a call?”
“I don’t want to date him.”
“I mean to feel him out on the subject. Maybe he draws the line at an older woman.”
“Raf draws no line,” he muttered.
“Great.” She set down her mug. “Where do you keep your car-washing rags?”
“I really don’t think Raf is a good option for you. Neither is this notion of dating a lot and dating around.” He folded his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“We’ve got to lighten up, little bro.”
“We? Why are you bringing me into this?”
“I saw the expression on your face when I mentioned your night companion.”
He frowned. “I told you I don’t want to talk about Harper.”
“There it is.” She pointed at him. “That’s the expression I’m talking about.”
Disgusted, he turned away from her. “For God’s sake.”
“Well, you should look happy after enjoying time with a night companion,” she said, following him as he stalked toward the door to the garage. “Not like someone stole Teddy Bear Brown.”
He shot her a glance over his shoulder. “That’s low, Trace, to bring up Teddy Bear Brown. I never got over his untimely death when Dad ran over him in the driveway. I cried myself to sleep every night from the ages of four to five.”
“You never got over Harper Hill.”
The sound of the garage door opening fortunately covered his growl.
“I’m just saying that you shouldn’t fritter away this second chance with her,” Tracy continued. “You two were perfect together.”
“Right.” He dug out a bucket and passed her a handful of rags. “So perfect, she left town and it took another six years for her to talk to me again.”
“And less than six days for her to sleep with you,” Tracy pointed out.
“It’s not going to happen again.” One and done.
“But Mad—”
“I’m trying to recall why I like you. Or if I’ve ever liked you. Or how to wash a car,” he warned.
“All this time, you’ve been traumatized by her leaving.”
“Traumatized? No.” He moved out of the garage to uncoil the hose.
“Before she left, did you ever tell her how you felt?”
Mad stared at his sister. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”
“You guys always seemed so happy together.”
“I think we were, okay? But it was first love, Trace, not a forever thing.”
“The L-word.” She danced closer to him. “I think that’s the only time I’ve heard you say it. The Kelly men
are notoriously closemouthed about their feelings.”
“True.” He stretched out the hose as he walked to Tracy’s dusty compact. “Will you turn on the water?”
“Mad, about this love that you never mentioned to Harper—”
He pointed the nozzle in his sister’s direction. “Can we please extinguish this conversation?”
“No.” She put her fists on her hips. “Because…well, because I’ve felt responsible for your long face and bad choices for the last six years.”
“Long face? Bad choices? What the heck are you talking about?”
“Courtney.”
“Yeah. Well.” He looked away. “That had nothing to do with anything but my bad judgement.”
“You were trying to forget that Harper left you.”
“I’m sure enjoying this conversation, Trace.”
“It was because of me and Ryan,” she said quickly. “I know that and I feel terribly guilty.”
His mood went from dark to black. “Don’t bring up your asshole ex-husband.”
“I shouldn’t have unloaded on you.”
Ryan had made Tracy miserable for years. Cheating, then promising. Promising then cheating. Their marriage took a long time to end, each day getting uglier than the next, the ugliness at its peak during those months right before Harper surprised him with her concrete plans to move and live overseas. “You had to tell someone.”
“You were my rock, Mad.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he said, taking a step back in alarm. “Don’t cry.”
“But I think, when it comes to romance, that I took you down with me. I made you reluctant to tell Harper that you wanted her to stay.”
“Water under the bridge,” he said, still uneasy. “Speaking of which, if you turn on the spigot we can take care of your car.”
“And now that she’s returned,” Tracy continued, “you’re afraid to get involved again.”
“I’m not afraid to get involved. I said I didn’t think I’d be seeing her again.” Had he said that to Tracy? There were more tears in her eyes. God, he couldn’t think straight under this kind of pressure.
“I know you want to see her again.”
“She’s good in bed. We’re more than good together.” Shit, he’d shared that? “But if you tell Mom I said so, no more of those bath bombs you like for Christmas.”
She wiped her cheek with the heel of one hand. “As long as it’s not my past that’s holding you back.”
“You’re not holding me back. Nothing’s holding me back.” He stomped over to turn on the water. “I’m going to wash your damn car and I’m going to see Harper again if I want to. And if she wants to.”
Did she want to?
Shit. He should have chained her to his bed while he had the chance.
Instead of going straight home, Harper swung by a convenience store for a cup of bitter coffee and a sweet roll in plastic wrap. The flavor of both improved when she found a spot at a parking lot alongside one of her favorite local beaches. A scattering of other vehicles showed others were appreciating the splendor, but directly in front of her was an empty expanse of sand and endless knee-high waves rolling in.
Not good for the surfers.
Perfect for a hometown girl experiencing a bit of a crisis.
In love with Mad?
She took a vicious bite of the honey bun and considered the chance she was so stupid.
Cranking down the window, she let in a salt-laden breeze. Her eyes closed and she pulled in a deep breath, letting the familiar scent into each cell. The ocean was as much home as the avocado grove and the herbs in the kitchen garden.
Home.
Maybe that was how she’d become hung up on Mad again. He was as much a part of home as the sea and the citrus and her family. It wasn’t such a disaster to admit she’d missed them all. A day or so more and she’d go back to her other life. To the dark bar and the golf bachelors and the new divorcées.
Another bite of honey bun didn’t make that idea go down any sweeter.
A last sip from the cup of rot gut left a taste in her mouth that suited her frame of mind. So she drove toward Sunnybird Farm, her sole focus on her full tube of toothpaste.
In the front yard, she found her mother sitting on a bench in the shade of a crepe myrtle. “Hey,” she said to Rebecca, then halted as she noticed her mom was writing in a journal. Her stomach jolted. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” her mom said. “Come join me.”
Harper gestured vaguely in the direction of the open pages. “This is a private moment.” For personal, private thoughts.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You know I’ve been journaling for years.”
“Well.” Harper didn’t know where to put her hands and kept her gaze off her mother’s neat cursive. “I didn’t know you continued your writing after I left home.”
“It’s a habit since I was fourteen years old,” she said, shutting the book. “Perhaps one day I’ll start with the first and read what I was thinking and feeling during all the different stages of my life.”
“You never look back at what you wrote?”
“Nope. I just stack them in the back corner of my closet.”
Where Harper had found them when she was twenty-one years old on a mission to unearth her mother’s rain boots. With a rare afternoon alone, she’d cozied up in the closet and breached her mother’s privacy. At first it had seemed an amusing pastime, enjoying her mother’s chronicling of kitten litters and her dislike of algebra. But then Harper had skipped ahead to the summer that she’d been conceived.
Her mom had fallen in love, hard. Cheeks burning, Harper had skimmed the pages, and though embarrassed, she’d found herself hungry for any detail about her dad. It was the first time she’d realized how hungry.
“Come sit,” her mom said now, patting the bench.
Harper did, keeping a cautious eye on the latest journal. The physical details of her mom’s love affair with the man who called himself Joe Jones had been way less damaging to their daughter’s psyche than the despondent description of her mother’s heartache once he’d gone. Yet Harper had been unable to stop reading. And those words had changed her life. That very night she’d begun researching teaching abroad.
“Well,” Rebecca said, “good news. We found Grandpop’s truck.”
“That is good news. Was it just…misplaced?” If the missing vehicle wasn’t a sign of trouble, then she could beat a guilt-free retreat to the City of Sin as soon as possible.
“Mike found it in a ditch.”
“What?”
“Out near the avocado grove.”
“No one was hurt?”
“No, thank goodness,” Rebecca said. “Or at least no one was there when he found it.”
“Time to put this in the cops’ hands, Mom. You did call?”
Her mother grimaced. “Grandpop…”
“Okay, I’ll report it.”
Another grimace. “I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”
“Fine.” Frustrated, Harper threw up her hands. “But I tell you, I’m starting to regret this visit.”
“You didn’t want to come?” Rebecca’s expression turned sad. “I love having you here.”
Harper closed her eyes. She loved being here too. But being here—with the sea and the citrus—tricked her mind into thinking she was in love with Mad, which wasn’t something to be happy about.
When Joe left he walked over my heart.
I’ll wish he loved me like I love him for the rest of my life.
“I need to talk to Grandpop,” Harper said, rising from the bench. Getting out of town ASAP was a matter of living without pining for some man’s love from now until eternity. Mad’s love.
I know this isn’t going anywhere, okay?
“I saw him in the kitchen garden,” her mom said. “But after your talk, can we use your car to run some errands later?”
“What about the truck?”
“Did I mention the torsion bar got broken?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Grandpop!” she yelled, heading around the side of the house. “We need to have a chat!”
Her grandfather had consented to using the old cane that Grandmom had found in the hall closet. Leaning on it, he bent down to inspect the lemon verbena.
She didn’t allow sympathy to soften her resolve. Stomping forward, she placed herself in front of him. “We have to do something about what’s going on here at the farm.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know.” Lifting her arms, she appealed to the sky. “How about reporting missing vehicles? Encouraging your friends to call the authorities regarding the avocado thefts?”
“What good would that do? The truck showed up. Once the avocado thieves leave a grove, they’re gone.”
“I did a little research, though. Avocado theft is an actual, real crime, punishable by up to three years in prison and a $10,000 fine.” She held up a finger. “California penal code section 487(b).”
Grandpop didn’t look impressed. “Once the fruit has been removed from the property, how do you prove ownership?”
Harper opened her mouth. Closed it.
“But we are doing something,” Grandpop continued. “Mike is putting up motion sensor lights near our grove. Your mom ordered some warning signs about the penalties of agricultural crime.”
“I don’t remember there being such a thing as agricultural crime before I left,” Harper complained.
“You’ve been gone a long time, honey.” He adjusted the cane in his hand and moved slowly toward the basil bush.
His halting gait made her chest ache. “Grandpop…”
He looked over. “Yes?”
“When I go back to Vegas, I’m going to worry.”
His smiles could make scraped knees and friend squabbles all better. How had she survived without regular exposure to them? “I have an easy solution,” he said.
“Which is?”
“Don’t go back to Las Vegas. You don’t want to be there.”
Her jaw dropped and she stared at him. “Grandpop—”
“I’ve made it my personal rule not to judge you and your choices, Harper, or to offer unasked-for advice.”
“Which has always made you the best grandfather in the world.”
SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club Book 4) Page 12