by Mia Carson
“What’s best for me is not being with you.”
“I never said it was.”
“Your body language does,” he insisted, turning her around. “Why are you constantly in my office if you don’t need a consultation?”
She sputtered, searching for the right words, but gave up. Her hands balled into fists and she swung her arms down hard, glaring at him through narrowed slits. “You bastard! I am the perfect match for you! Everyone says so, including your mother, but no. You would rather mess around with the pink-haired daughter of a biker! Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what a woman like her will do to you, to your family name? She’ll ruin it, all of it!”
Harold’s hands slipped into his pockets and he smiled. “Her hair is violet.”
Bailey let out a strangled yell of annoyance and shoved past him for the door. “Your mother will never let you have her!”
“My mother has no control over her son who is nearly thirty years old,” he shot back.
“You’ll regret this, you’ll regret everything! She’ll destroy what you could be. I hope you realize that.”
“No, she’s going to help me get back to the man I should have been before I let myself be twisted by you and the rest of them.”
Bailey shrieked in rage and stomped out of his office. She yelled at Walter as he walked by, and Harold followed her out, resting his shoulder against the doorframe as his spirits lifted as they had been once many, many months ago.
“Sir? Is everything all right?” Walter asked, wearing a mix of a confused and amused smile.
“I think it will be now, yes. Did you manage to get ahold of Mr. Tory?”
Walter smirked as he shuffled his papers together and handed a post-it to Harold. “He’s willing to meet with you on Friday morning.”
“It figures he wants to wait until the end of the week. Fine, that will work. Thank you.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“No—oh wait, yes,” he said stepping back out of his office. “If Bailey, Christian, Rodric, my mother, anyone except Jenny or Ms. Crawley try to come in and see me, stop them, would you? Even if you have to call the cops.”
Walter’s smile faltered. “Sir?”
“Thank you, Walter, that will be all for a while.” He winked and closed his office door.
His phone taunted him, but if he called home his sister would answer, tell him to stop bugging them, and promptly hang up. What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during their conversation, but he had to work out his plan with Anna anyway. Her case was close to being dismissed. The moment he proved Johnny was involved with the break-in and setting up Anna in the first place, all charges against her would be dropped. If he played his cards right, he could even win her sole control of the bar without having to pay a penny.
But the case wasn’t what made him anxious all morning. Anna told him he had never admitted how he felt about her. Her words rang truer than he wanted them to. When he tried to say them, he faltered every time. He stumbled over emotions he was unused to feeling so intensely about anyone, including about himself. Bailey and the others, they held him back by holding him to such high and ridiculous standards. Respecting the family name and legacy and all that other bullshit, which meant nothing at the end of the day. He was tired of coming home to an empty house and a life lacking in the one thing he knew he had with Anna, the one thing he’d let slip through his fingers.
Love. He loved that woman, every bit of who she was, and this time…this time, he would get it right and show her exactly what type of man he was.
“Your brother is a pain in the ass, you know that?” Anna held the hot coffee mug between her palms, sitting on the couch as Jenny sat down beside her. “I tell him one thing, and it’s like he hears me but doesn’t at the same time. Does that even make sense?”
“Yes, and I grew up with him, remember?” Jenny teased.
Anna groaned, her head falling back to the couch. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re here because despite what you keep telling me, you want a second chance with him,” Jenny told her gently. “You both want that chance.”
“No…I don’t think Harry knows what he wants.”
Jenny’s lips curled into a Cheshire grin. “He loves when you call him that, by the way.”
Anna’s heart fluttered. “He does? I swore he hated it.”
“Loves it.” She shifted on the couch, her face furrowed into a worried frown. “He missed you, you know. Every day. He never said it, but I heard it in his voice. The happiness you gave him was simply gone.”
“I never wanted to leave him,” Anna admitted. “But I saw the man he wanted to be, little glimpses of it. Every time, I thought to myself this is it. This is the time he’ll finally break through that last wall and I’ll see what’s really going on inside that head. I’d know how he felt about me.” She smiled sadly, chewing on her tongue as she remembered the last night with him and the rest of his friends and family gathered close. “He could never let me in.”
Jenny’s hand covered hers and squeezed it heartily. “He’s a bit thickheaded, everyone in my family is, but you can’t give up on him.”
“I’m tired, Jenny. He had my heart and he couldn’t bear to let me have his. How much more can I do?”
“You can push him,” she insisted. “Push him until it hurts. Push him until he finally lets it all out. He needs you in his life, whether you see it or not.” Her hand slipped away, and she stood, walking to the fireplace to pick up a framed photo of her and Harold from when they were younger. “A long time ago, he knew how to laugh and be happy. He was excited to take on whatever life threw at him, got his hands dirty, and told me of his dreams to be a lawyer for the people. Helping people who couldn’t help themselves, that’s what he told me.”
Anna had never heard that story from Harold. He’d hinted at wanting to do more, but he seemed to lack the conviction to break from the tradition of the Jenson family legacy. “What happened to that boy?” she asked.
Jenny set the photograph back in its place. “Our parents. They were both lawyers, but they catered to the rich and powerful. They liked being the big fish in a little pond and used the excuse that helping those in power would eventually help those beneath them.”
“Interesting theory. Too bad it doesn’t work that way.”
“Not usually.” She sighed sadly, twirling her finger around a strand of black hair. “Our parents dashed his dreams, mostly Father. They beat him down and told him the only way he would ever help anyone in this world was to make a name for himself, or rather carry on their name. His friends didn’t help much.”
“I can see why,” Anna murmured, sliding the charm around the chain on her neck. “When I was with Harry, he was so much more relaxed. He was fun, actually.”
“That’s who he was when we were younger. I miss my brother sometimes.”
It amazed Anna how a person could be so completely different from who they were meant to be because those around them shaped and molded them into someone completely different. Harold had mentioned his father to her numerous times, how proud he would be of Harold’s accomplishments. No one else seemed to hear the bitterness in those words, except Anna. He regretted not doing more and following his dreams of helping those less fortunate than him. She resisted pushing too hard before for fear of losing him.
And look what happened? You lost him anyway.
“Anna, I have no right to ask you to do this, but Harold needs you to give him a right kick in the ass,” Jenny told her. “I don’t want to cause you any more grief, but you’re the only one who can drag the old Harold out. Break through those barriers.”
She was right, but that didn’t mean Anna was ready for the fight her pushing Harold would bring. “How did you manage to not turn out like the rest of them?” she asked curiously.
Jenny flipped her hair over her shoulder and strutted as if she was on a runway. “I, my dear Anna, moved far away as soo
n as I could. I’ll admit when I’m home, I put on a different face. I have to in order to avoid the lectures from Mommy dearest.”
“Well, I can’t move away from my bar,” she mused, “and I doubt Harold will move out of this city any time soon.”
“I have faith in you.”
“I’m glad one of us does.” She drained the rest of her coffee and stood. “Right. I have to get to the bar and try not to think about my ruined apartment.”
“And make a plan for Harold?” Jenny urged.
“I can’t make any guarantees and honestly, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do it, but I’ll try. We were given a second chance, and I’d be an idiot to toss it away. Swing by the bar while you’re in town. First round is on the house,” Anna promised her.
She hurried upstairs to change. As she zipped up her black boots, she pondered her next move with Harold. Getting him to see he was better off embracing the man he was meant to be was no easy feat. She had failed the first time, but she hadn’t pushed as hard to get him to open up to her. This time, there would be no pulling punches. She had missed him as much as he apparently missed her. Too bad he had yet to admit it straight up or tell her how he really felt. The next time she saw him, she would let him have it and give him a choice. Either let her in or she would walk away again, and there would be no coming back.
Chapter 7
Harold was out the door of his office at exactly five o’clock. “Night, Walter,” he called hastily over his shoulder and hardly heard his assistant’s reply. He needed to get home and speak with Anna. The words were a mess in his head, but none of that mattered. He had to see her, hold her again, kiss her, and pray that somehow, everything would flow out of him. His cell dinged with another voicemail, most likely from his mother, but he ignored it. He had no doubt in his mind Bailey had called to inform Prentice of her son’s actions and how he would ruin everything the Jenson family had spent the last few decades building.
He would deal with her and her yelling later. The only agenda he cared about was Anna. He sped home, threw open the front door, and called out for her.
“She’s not here,” Jenny’s reply came from the living room.
“What do you mean? Where is she?”
“Well, don’t you look a right mess,” she commented. “You look even worse than you did this morning. Care to share with the class?”
“Jenny, where is Anna?” he demanded, tossing his briefcase into the empty chair.
Jenny closed the book she was reading and tossed it on the other end of the couch. “Where do you think that woman is? You know you can’t keep her away from the bar for long.”
“The Crawler.” He whirled around, ready to charge out the door when Jenny called him back. “What?”
“You’re going after her, right?”
The smile that spread across his face reflected on the face of his sister. “What do you think?”
“Thank God,” he heard her say as he ran back into the cold. He floored it back through the city and cursed when it took him too long to find a damn place to park. A car pulled away from the curb out front, and he whipped his into it. The gusting wind blew past his face, but he hardly felt the chill or the snowflakes as they melted against his cheeks. He ran into the bar, having a brief moment of déjà vu, but instead of Missy behind the bar staring at him as if he’d lost it, Anna was there. She cursed when the beer she was pouring overflowed and she had to start over. “We need to talk—now.”
“What about?” she asked, turning her back to him.
“Us,” he replied without hesitation for once. “I’ll wait here all night if I have to, but you and I have unfinished business.”
A few of the regulars he recognized at the bar glanced from him to Anna, waiting for her reply. She blinked furiously and slammed the beer on the counter in front of Aiden. “And whose fault is that?”
“Mine, and I know it.”
“Do you? Are you sure? You see, we’ve had this conversation before, Harry, and it always ends the same way.” She slapped the bar towel over her shoulder and rested her hands against the counter. “What’s different this time, huh?”
The guys at the bar swiveled around to stare blatantly at him.
“Can we do this somewhere else?” he pleaded.
“No, we are going to do it right here. You said we needed to talk, so talk,” she demanded. “What does the great Harry Jenson III have to say to me?” The guys at the bar still stared at him intently, amused grins on their faces.
He sucked in a deep breath, his hands shaking, and tried to come up with a coherent way to say what he wanted, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Only sputtering and fumbling. She nodded, nibbling her bottom lip as pain flooded her eyes. She walked towards the back room, and suddenly, a fire roared to life inside Harold.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Anna Crawley,” he bellowed. She stopped dead in her tracks but refused to turn around. “You and I are not finished here. We’ll never be finished because you know as well as I do that we’re meant to be together. We were meant to stay together,” he ranted. “I’ll admit it was my fault you left, but if you walk away now, it’ll be on you.”
“What did you just say to me?” she snapped, spinning around to glare at him.
“You heard me. We’re having this out right now.”
She marched up to him and shoved him hard. “You know what I want to hear, Harry, so unless you’re going to tell me, unless you finally let go, then get out of my bar.”
He licked his lips, his hands clammy and his stomach twisting. She waited, tapping her toe loudly and crossing her arms. The muscles strained in his neck as he blurted the words out loud. “You scare the shit out me, do you know that?”
The bar fell silent, all except for Anna’s gasp of surprise. “What?”
He hung his head, rubbing his face hard as he glanced back up at her. “You scare me. You scared me the first time we went out on a date and you had me laughing hysterically for the first time in years,” he confessed. “You scare me because of all those nights we stayed up late talking about parts of my life no one else gets to see. When I’m with you, I’m not Harold Jenson III. I’m Harry, just Harry, and God, Anna, I miss being just Harry with you.”
The regulars shifted their gazes to Anna and she waved them off, but they didn’t look away. “Well, keep going then,” she urged.
Harold smiled, his body relaxing as it used to when he was around her. “You reminded me of someone I thought I lost a long time ago,” he said, closing the distance between them. “I was scared to let him out again, scared of what everyone else would think of him, of me.”
“And now?” she asked on a breath.
He cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes slipping closed for a moment as his thumb brushed over her bottom lip, lips he desired to kiss from now until the end of his days. “Now I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks but you.”
His lips captured hers in a heated kiss as they clung to each other in the middle of the bar. He hugged her to him as her arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him down even more so the kiss deepened. She raked her nails along his arms as whistles sounded around them, and Anna tore her mouth away, her eyes hazy with desire.
“Missy,” she said when she spotted her other bartender. “You have the bar?”
“Yeah, I have the bar,” she replied with a confused laugh.
Harold started to speak, but she covered his mouth with her hand, grabbed his in her free one, and dragged him out of the bar room towards the back. She shoved him into the store room, slammed the door, and locked it securely. Their lips were back together a second later. Harold tugged at the small apron tied around her waist and threw it to the floor as she undid his shirt, tearing at the buttons in her haste to reach his chest. All those times he feared telling her the truth about how he felt for her seemed so ridiculous now. He didn’t have control his emotions for fear of what she would think. If anything, he felt closer
to Anna, and his hunger for this woman to be with him, to be buried within her, overwhelmed him until he almost couldn’t breathe.
His shirt parted and her palms rested on his chest. He growled as he ravaged her mouth, their tongues moving and twisting in a feverish dance as she raked her nails down his pecs to his abs. She traced his muscles, and his body reacted without fail. The hair on his arms stood up as she nipped and sucked hard on his bottom lip, and he struggled to shove her tank up far enough so he could reach those delicious mounds of soft flesh. He shoved the cups of her bra aside and kneaded her breasts, drawing a moan from her lips as she pushed her chest into his palms. Her hardened nipples teased him, and he removed his lips from hers to suck one of those hard points into his mouth. He pressed her up against the closest thing he could find, the long workbench-sized table she kept in the storeroom, and ravished her breasts. He ground his swollen shaft into her as she rubbed him, and the fire within him grew into a blazing inferno.
He lifted her shirt off over her head and undid the bra with ease. Clothes were in the way, far too many clothes. With each touch, her chest heaved with ragged breathing and he wanted to hear more. She fumbled at his belt, but he shoved her hands away, going for hers instead.
“Harry,” she whispered when he managed to undo her jeans, his mouth keeping hers busy as he kissed her, each dart of his tongue a preview of what would soon follow. He wanted her drunk on their love as she should have been so many months ago if he hadn’t been a jackass.
Her jeans loose, he shoved them down and palmed her hot sex, her swollen lips spreading at his touch. He groaned to feel her so wet and wanting. She shifted her hips, pressing herself into his hand. Her slick folds made it all too easy for his fingers to slip inside her sheath, stretching and teasing her as he mimicked the motion with his tongue in her mouth. He stroked her at both ends as she quivered before him. He pinched and tugged her clit, eliciting a sharp cry of lust that only fueled him on more. His hand moved faster, spreading her even wider with his knee. Right when she was on the edge, her inner muscles clenching to hold him within her depths, he drew back. He cursed at his belt as she laughed, the husky sound washing over him as she helped him free himself from the confines of his slacks.