by Evan Grace
I need to get laid—finally break the celibate life I’ve been living, and maybe then I’ll no longer feel that invisible pull toward Harley. She’s the type of trouble that I don’t need. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. I’m not saying she’s like Delilah’s mom, but I just can’t go through that again.
***
“Yeah, Friday at nine sounds good. I’ll make sure Egan’s there,” I tell our sales rep for our security equipment. They’ve got new cameras that are supposed to be top of the line, but I don’t order any of that stuff until Egan looks it over.
“Great Jack, I’ll see you then.”
I hang up, add the meeting to my calendar, and then send Egan an invite. He’s still here so I’m not surprised that he answers me right away that he’ll be at the meeting. I grab the signed invoices from my desk and take them down the hall to Del’s office, which is occupied by Shayla today.
I come to the door and find Erik down on his haunches, both hands on Shayla’s swollen belly, and he’s talking quietly to it.
I knock on the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt. Here are those invoices. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
She shoots me the biggest smile while her fiancé continues to talk to and rub her belly. “I feel great Jack, thanks.” Shayla points at her belly. “We’re having a boy.” They’re only a few weeks from her due date.
“That’s fantastic news. Just remember they said Charlie was a boy. They can be wrong.” The moment my Charlie girl slid free from her momma and I saw she was a she, I’d been shocked, but so happy.
Erik stands up and holds up the picture. “Look, he’s showing off the goods.” Sure enough, the kid has everything on display.
I slap him on the back. “That’s great news, brother.” I move around the desk and pull Shayla into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “Congratulations. What does Grant think about it?”
Shayla had been married before and the son of a bitch was abusive. It took her son, who was three at the time, witnessing one of his father’s assaults on her before she finally left him. Her boy was understandably skittish around men, but Erik’s seemed to have turned that around.
Now Erik, the reformed womanizer, and Shayla are getting married. They have a hard road to travel, but they’re all settling into life together, and we’re all happy for them.
“Grant’s excited. He and Erik have had talks about big brother responsibilities.” She smiles up at Erik. “Both of my guys are excited.”
I leave them and head down to my office. I’ll do some research on a case I’m working on and then head to the gym before I finally head home.
I pull my truck into my garage and climb out as the door shuts. Inside, I toss my keys and my wallet on the breakfast bar. I head into my bedroom and strip off my sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts before heading into the bathroom.
I let the water flow over my body, relaxing my sore muscles. I rub my hand over the scar on my left hip from the shot that made me decide to end my military career. Most days there’s a little ache, but when I work out it can sometimes get worse, causing me to walk a little stiffer when I first get up.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been six years since I took the bullet. When I thought I was dying, my life flashed before my eyes. Everything I saw was about my daughter: regrets for leaving her with her mother, leaving her when I was deployed, and regret for not fighting harder to protect Delilah.
I push those thoughts away because they only get me upset, and they don’t change anything. Instead, my thoughts flash to the beautiful auburn-haired thorn in my side—images of her with my grandson snuggled against her chest bring forth thoughts of her holding our child that way.
“Fuck,” I growl before I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I quickly dry myself off before wrapping my towel around my hips and heading into the bedroom.
I sit down on my bed and grab my laptop. I type in the address of the porn site I visit when I need to get off, but instead of hitting enter, I backtrack and Google Eva Steele. When her beautiful smile pops up on the screen, my cock immediately gets hard.
I get settled on my stack of pillows and wrap my hand around my dick. Images of her flashing me that smile while she rides my dick flit through my mind while I begin to pump up and down. Fuck, I haven’t done this in a while; I can already feel that tingle at the base of my spine.
I close my eyes and imagine flipping her over, slapping that gorgeous ass of hers as I pound into her from behind. If I think real hard, I can hear her moan my name, and then I come all over my hand.
I clean myself off with my towel, shut off my laptop, and climb under the covers. I need to get fucking laid, is my last thought before I fall asleep.
Chapter Five
Harley
I stretch my arms above my head as I finish my marathon editing session. For the past forty-eight hours I’ve barely slept, working round the clock to get my edits back to my editor. I glance at my desk and shake my head; wrappers, pop bottles, and cups line my desk—the proof that I’ve barely moved. But edits are done now, so I can relax the rest of the day.
I pull the garbage bag out of the little can in my office and start throwing away the trash. Once that’s done, I open the windows to air out the room. It’s not like it smells, but the air is just a little stale.
I carry the trash out the back door and throw it into the can. The sun is almost blinding, but I tip my head back. The warmth seeps into me, and I sigh. I glance over at Delilah and Reece’s place when I hear Charlie’s little girl giggles.
I smile when Reece comes into view with his daughter on his shoulders. “Fasser, fasser Daddy,” she squeals in her little girl voice.
He starts jogging around their yard in circles, her little hands in his and her little brown pigtails bobbing up and down behind her. That sense of longing fills me again, but I push it down.
I step back inside before he catches me staring and gets the wrong idea. I grab Fifty out of his cage and let him hop around while I clean his litter box. When that’s all done, I take him with me into my office and place him on his bed. I send my manuscript back to my editor and check my email.
There’s a couple from readers, and I quickly answer them. There’s also one from Martha, but I delete it; I’m not in the mood to hear how horrible I am. I see a couple of emails from the dating site I signed up for in the spur of the moment the other night. Being lonely is probably not the right reason to join, but when I had gone to the bar to look for a man, it had been an absolute disaster.
The only guys who hit on me were either young and hammered or old and sleazy. I didn’t even finish the drink I ordered. Instead, I went to a little diner by the bar and had coffee and pancakes while I read on my phone. When I got home and before I got out of my car, I heard a baby screaming.
I enjoyed helping Jack with little Jackson, but was so exhausted when it was over. After I went home and Jack showed up things got weird between us and I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he left and he’s avoided me ever since.
I know I should just forget about the infuriating man, but I can’t. I’m drawn to him in a way that scares me…and exhilarates me. He’s definitely shown me time and time again that he’s not into me. When will my dumbass get with the program and just think of him as a friend—one that doesn’t really even like me?
I pull up the emails from the dating site: One is a welcome email, and one has instructions on how to log into the app to see my matches. I grab my phone, download the app, and then after entering my email and password, my account pops up. The notification tells me that I have two men possibly interested.
The first is Peter: a thirty-four-year-old single father. I click on his picture, and he’s cute. He’s got light blond hair, and it looks like brown eyes. He works for the Chicago Cubs. The second is Jonathon, a forty-year-old professor at Loyola University. He’s got no kids, and doesn’t want them.
He’s very handsome, and reminds me of a more polished
version of Jack—nope, not going there again. That man is no longer going to monopolize my thoughts.
Before I lose my nerve, I type out a quick response. I respond to Jonathon.
Harley: Hi Jonathon, I’m not sure what to say but it appears we’re a match. I don’t know how this works, but if you’d like to talk just message me back. We can exchange emails–Harley
I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. When did this ache form inside me? I’ve always been at least content with my life. I’ve never felt this lost, but maybe living next to Reece, Delilah, and their family has made me realize what I’ve been missing most of my life.
They’re a beautiful family, and it’s clear how much they love each other. My grandma used to tell me stories about my family before my mom died. My mom played piano and her and Daddy would sit together and sing for my brother and me. We’d dance around the living room together for my grandma and grandpa to watch.
The four of us were inseparable, and then it all fell apart. My dad was so heartbroken when he lost my mom that he couldn’t handle us and took us to our grandma’s.
I’ve often thought about hiring someone to find my father—for the sole purpose of knowing if he’s okay. I’ve thought about finding my brother, but with his record and history of drug abuse I can’t take the chance that he’s still a mess and getting on his radar.
I plug my phone into the charger and then strip out of my clothes on the way to the shower. Sometimes when I get lost in my work I skip the daily hygiene—it’s scary, I know.
I take my time scrubbing myself from head to toe, washing and conditioning my hair twice. When I’m done I feel human again. After moisturizing my face and body, I blow dry my hair and then throw it into a knot on my head.
After throwing on some athletic shorts and a t-shirt, I head back into my office, grab Fifty, snuggling him close before I put him in his cage, and grab his food and fresh water.
I hear my phone ping in the other room, and I grab it out of the office. My heart rate speeds up when I see it’s a message from Jonathon.
***
I never thought another person could be so freaking boring, but Jonathon is the worst. Things were great when we messaged each other, and then texted. We’ve done the texting thing for a couple of weeks, and he seemed like a really nice guy, but then we decided to meet.
Delilah came over earlier and helped me pick out an outfit, although she seemed to not be very enthusiastic about it, and she wouldn’t say why. To keep it casual I’m wearing gray tailored shorts, a white tank top, a short-sleeved emerald green cardigan, and black ballet flats.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she’d asked.
“It’s just coffee,” I’d told her, but she still didn’t look convinced. I gave her the guy’s name, the name of the coffee shop, and promised to call when I was home.
She’d looked at me closely, and then sighed. “Okay, but seriously if you get any bad feelings you call me, and I’ll send Reece to rescue you.”
Now I’m listening to Mr. “I’m the smartest man in the universe” drone on and on about every award he’s won, and how he’s the head of his department. We’ve been here for a half hour and he hasn’t stopped talking. He’s such a good-looking man, and there is nothing wrong with confidence, but this guy loves himself.
Over texts he seemed generally interested in me, but now…nothing. I sip my latte and feign interest while he talks, and talks, and talks, and fucking talks.
“So tell me about yourself, Harley. What do you do for a living?”
“Um…well I’m an author. I write romance novels.” The minute his nose crinkles I brace for the snide comments, and he doesn’t disappoint.
“So you write porn? Nice.”
I ball my fist and feel my hackles rise. “It’s not porn, it’s romance stories with sex. There’s nothing wrong with love stories.”
“Ha! Love stories? They give women unrealistic expectations.”
I stand up. “You know, obviously you didn’t read my profile—otherwise you would’ve seen that I put right on there that I write romance novels. Then maybe you wouldn’t have wasted my time, or yours.”
I head out to my car feeling extremely disappointed. I’m tempted to cancel my account and say forget it. I could’ve said I did something else, but I refuse to lie about it. I’m not ashamed of what I write. I love the beautiful tales I tell, and yes, the sex is raw, dirty, and very descriptive, but that’s what I love about writing it.
Maybe I’ll give the other guy a chance, or see if anyone else is a match. When I reach my house I find Jack and Reece standing on the sidewalk with Charlie riding her hot pink motorized motorcycle.
When I get out of my car, I see Del’s out front on their steps with Jackson and she waves me over. “How was your date?”
“It was terrible.” I reach her and hold out my hands to take the baby and snuggle him to my chest. “He spent most of the time talking about himself. Then he asked me what I did for a living, so I told him because I’m not embarrassed. He basically told me I write porn, and I give women unrealistic expectations.”
“Oh my God, what did you say?”
“I told him he would’ve known that had he actually read my profile and that he wasted my time.”
“Well…maybe next time you’ll have better luck.” She gives me a quick hug.
We sit on the front steps while the men follow behind Charlie as she rolls down the sidewalk. “I don’t know. We’ll see. I wanted to get back out there, but I just haven’t had any luck so far. Fifty’s the only man I need in my life…or this little cutie pie right here.” I kiss Jackson’s chubby cheek, and then blow a raspberry on it until he squeals.
We’re both quiet for a moment, and then Delilah surprises me. “What do you think of my dad?”
I freeze. Does she know? “Umm…what do you mean?”
She looks at me closely, and flashes me a smile. “I see the way he looks at you. I’ve seen the way you try to avoid looking at him. It’s funny; when my dad called earlier and I told him you were out on a coffee date, he came right over, and he’s been out front looking at your house every couple of minutes.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but he doesn’t like me. Most of the time he acts like he can’t wait to be rid of me.”
Delilah grabs my wrist and leans in. “My mother did a number on him. I honestly haven’t seen him date since I’ve been in Chicago.”
“Aren’t daughters supposed to hate the women who come into their father’s lives?”
She laughs softly. “Nah…I just want him to be happy, maybe give me some brothers or sisters, and have the love of a good woman. I think that woman could be you.”
I know my mouth is hanging open right now. It even opens and closes, but nothing comes out. “How do you know it’s me?”
“Just a feeling I get, especially when you’re near each other. I think you might be just what each other needs. Plus we love you, our kids love you.” She holds her hands up. “No pressure and I know he can be a grump, but just think about what I said.”
Luckily she drops it. She and I decide to take Jackson and Jinx for a walk. I grab the stroller out of the garage. While she goes into the house to get the dog, I get Jackson all strapped in. Delilah comes out with Jinx on his leash, then we walk.
***
I grab my salad and carry it into the living room, and turn on the TV. I pull up True Blood on my Amazon Fire Stick: my latest binge-watching treat. I’ve seen it before, but it’s been a while. I’ve thought about writing a paranormal romance because I love to read them. The rest of the year is pretty booked up, but that’s on the agenda for next year.
I grab Fifty and snuggle up with him on the couch. I feed him plain pieces of lettuce while I eat my salad. I finish eating and place my bowl on the coffee table, curling up on my side absently stroking Fifty’s soft fur.
My phone pings and I grab it off of the table. I have another match o
n that dating website. With a sigh, I toss my phone back on the table. I’m not in the mood to look—Delilah’s words run through my mind.
She can’t possibly want me with her dad, but she’s under the wrong impression that he likes me. I won’t lie, as much as I don’t want to—I have a crush on the man. My doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts. I stand up and look out the window—it’s a UPS driver.
I smile when I open the door. “Here you go, ma’am, sign right here.” He holds out the little device for me to sign.
I take the package from him and close the door. “Fifty, what is this?” Sometimes I forget when I order swag or paperback books. I look at the return address and it’s a P.O. Box. I take the box into the kitchen, grab a knife, and open it.
It’s some shredded paper. “That’s weird.” I dig through the box, and it’s empty. That’s when I notice a sliver of paper looks like it has color on it.
It takes a few seconds to realize it’s one of my books—actually, it appears to be several books. I dig through the scraps, looking for a card, a note…something, but come up with nothing. I bury both hands in the box, grabbing wads of shredded paper, and begin to cry.
All of my hard work, and someone just destroyed it. God, that hurts so much. I let the papers in my hand go and pick up the box. I don’t even care that I have tears running down my face as I step outside and walk down to the curb where my garbage bin sits.
I flip the lid open and tip the box inside until all of the paper is emptied out. I wipe angrily at the tears as I march back up to my front door. “Harley?” Shit, I really don’t need his crap right now.
I keep my back to him. “Hey, Jack.” I quickly step inside, but I feel him step in behind me. I close my eyes to get myself straight, then turn to look at the man. “What’s up?” Trying to act casual, I give him a smile.
“Why were you crying? What was in the box?”