Where We Belong
A Hideaway Bay Novella
Lauren Harbor
Published by Lauren Harbor, 2019
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
WHERE WE BELONG
First edition. August 2, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Lauren Harbor.
ISBN: 978-1393434979
Written by Lauren Harbor.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Stay in touch with Lauren Harbor
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For Michelle, Miranda, and Samara. Good friends support your dreams. Amazing friends help you achieve them.
Chapter One
I hate when Mom and Dad play in the bedroom without me. But it’s better than when they fight.
~ Duke Harper-O’Connor
Ryan Harper's arm tingled on the edge of agony, and his brain pounded against his skull with every breath, but he’d endure the pain forever to keep this woman in his arms. Haley O'Connor had been his best friend since their diaper days, and for the past few years, she'd become his everything.
Until the shooting.
She'd survived. Their relationship hadn't.
Last night was the closest he'd been to happy and whole in a long time. He had Haley back in his life, in his bed. He’d treasure it for as long as he could. As long as she’d allow.
Haley moaned, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, inhaling deeply. Always said she loved his smell.
A strip of light filtered through a gap in the curtains, searing his eyeballs like a laser. He slammed his eyes shut and planned their day while letting her sleep off the worst of her hangover. He'd start by cooking her breakfast. Heavily buttered toast, greasy bacon, and mushrooms—her preferred hangover cure. Maybe a shower together after, where they’d get a whole lot dirtier before getting clean, then they’d take Duke for a walk and drink coffees in the park. Mundane, everyday life. What he'd missed most.
The mattress shifted and the warmth on his chest disappeared. Haley sat up and swung her long legs over the edge of the bed. He peered at her through one slanted eyelid, barely stifling a moan. Thick waves of copper cascaded over soft ivory skin. Muscles toned from dedication to her job on the force signaled her strength but took nothing away from feminine curves that filled his hands perfectly.
She bent to reach for her clothes but stilled, holding her head in her hands.
Patron definitely claimed two victims this morning.
When Haley indulged his brothers from the firehouse last night, sticking around to watch the Hornets and the Celtics, he'd had no idea it would lead to hot sex and hangovers. Not after they'd basically avoided each other since their breakup six months earlier. Eventually, the guys Uber'd it home, but he and Haley—at least a mile past drunk on their way to plastered—decided to indulge in a drinking game.
His stomach rolled at the thought of all the tequila they'd consumed. When he chose the rules—watching Sharknado and one shot per death—he'd forgotten just how many ridiculous ways a flying shark could kill. Somewhere between four and four million shots later, they'd ended up naked.
His gaze traveled down to her lush ass, setting off fireworks in his veins. Blue linen bunched around his hips, hiding his growing hard-on. Damn, he wanted her. Even the jackhammer pounding his skull couldn't dampen his craving for her which raged with the ferocity of a wildfire.
He took in her soft skin, every dip and curve of her spine, faltering at the puckered scar below her shoulder, and forced himself to look away from the reminder of what tore his life apart.
A rattling doggy snore cut through his thoughts. Thankful for the distraction, he glanced at Duke's massive German Shepherd frame sprawled across the doggy bed in the corner. His lolling tongue dripped drool on the hardwood. Just as well the apartment didn't have carpets.
He pulled himself up to lean against the headboard, the mattress squeaking with his movements. Haley spun to face him, wide-eyed, guilt-ridden, like the summer her mother caught them sneaking out for a midnight swim at the waterfront. She struggled for balance and slipped on the hardwood floor, clutching at his sheet then pulling it loose and regaining her balance.
Her gaze dropped to his dick, now at full salute, and a flush spread across her cheeks and down over her breasts. She jerked her gaze away, grabbing the sheet and tucking it under her arms to hide her delectable body.
A waste of time. He knew every inch of that body, covered or not.
She snatched his boxers off the floor and threw them at his chest. “Can you cover up, please?” Her flush intensified from slightly pink to strawberry. How was it possible for her to be so damn sexy and adorably cute all at once?
He forced himself out of bed and stood stark naked, briefs dangling from one finger. The chilly December air did nothing to diminish the evidence of his desire. “You've seen it all before.”
“That was different.” She swallowed and turned away, clutching at the sheet while struggling into her plain black cotton panties and bra. Haley didn't do frills.
She shimmied into her jeans and Rudolph the Reindeer sweater he'd bought her a year earlier to add to her impressive collection of dorky Christmas knits. His girl was cuckoo for Christmas.
Except she's not your girl anymore.
It became more evident by the second that Haley didn't view their night together as quite the happy reunion Ryan hoped for. He pulled on his boxer briefs, ending with a satisfying snap of elastic against his hip. She flinched at the sound and groaned, rubbing her temple.
“We're getting old. Can't handle our liquor like we used to.” He pulled on a t-shirt.
“I blame the Patron. Gets me in trouble every damn time.”
“And the sharks. Don't let those murderous bastards off the hook.”
Her lips tipped up into a smile and warmed him like the sun peeking out from behind winter clouds. “The Sharknado drinking game was your idea, so technically I should blame you.”
“Probably. But it was totally worth it.” One hundred percent unrepentant, he flashed a smile, ignoring the fact his head was marble-statue-heavy and about to topple off his shoulders. He'd put up with far worse if it meant waking up with Haley every morning.
She didn't respond, just pulled a hair tie from her pocket and twisted her curls into a messy bun, then picked up her sneakers. Duke clambered to his feet in excitement at the prospect of a walk. The dog pattered across the hardwood to sit in front of her at the edge of the bed. She yanked on a sneaker. “I have to go.” Her rough voice hinted at tears and Ryan struggled not to reach for her. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I'll pick him up Saturday.”
He could fight. Beg her to stay. Tell her last night wasn't a mistake, it was the only thing that had made sense between them in a long time... but they'd been here before and spent months barely maintaining a fragile friendship. He'd been a fool to think one incredible night together would fix anything, let alone convince her to come back to him. If he pushed too far, too fast, he could lose her from his life completely.
“Sure. Saturday.” He gave a jerky nod and stepped back, surprised to find his legs kept him upright when he was sure he'd crumble at any moment.
“Merry Christmas, Ryan.” Her breath caught on his name and t
ears spilled over onto her cheeks. Then she left, each thunk on the hardwood stairs like another stab to his heart.
With limbs like cement, he walked to his dresser, and opened the top drawer, avoiding his reflection in the dusty mirror, not wanting to see the pathetic creature he'd become. His hand rifled through the cotton socks and briefs until his fingers brushed suede. He plucked out the blue box and placed it on the oak surface, then opened the lid to reveal the diamond ring he'd stashed before Haley's shooting. His mother's ring.
He stared at the diamond and white gold band, the future it represented, the future he'd lost, until his vision blurred. A tear stained the satin lining of the box. He wondered if he'd ruined it like he'd ruined everything else.
Chapter Two
Sometimes I dream that we all live together again... and our house is made of jerky.
~ Duke Harper-O’Connor
Six months later...
Haley knelt on the grass with one arm wrapped around Duke's neck in an attempt to keep him still, while her other hand tugged at the ridiculously short skirt of the Mrs. Clause outfit she'd been conned into wearing for the charity calendar. The things she did for her friends.
“Sis, I love you, but your dog is defective.” Addi, smart enough to volunteer as a behind the scenes helper and therefore wearing jeans which actually covered her ass, blew a long streak of purple hair out of her face and gritted her teeth while attempting to get Duke's hind leg into his Christmas Elf onesie.
“Don't listen to Aunty Addison. She's just cranky they don't want her fancy rabbit in the calendar.”
Addi's glare could burn a thousand suns, but a lifetime of exposure allowed Haley to build a tolerance to her sister’s ire. Photographer for the day, Shayla, skipped towards them from the gazebo where she'd been putting finishing touches on the backdrop for the Christmas themed photo shoot.
The historic wooden structure decked out in red, green, and gold tinsel, a fully decorated Christmas tree, and approximately five thousand gift-wrapped boxes—Haley's fingers still burned with tiny paper cuts from the torturous task— created a stunning backdrop for the December calendar photo. The cluster of Douglas Firs behind the gazebo, sparkling with strategically sprayed fake snow, perfected the winter wonderland theme...despite being the beginning of summer.
“We're ready for our superstars.” Shayla's voice trilled with excitement. Her petite friend's waist-length black hair was pulled into the same high ponytail she'd sported since high school, and although they graduated almost a decade ago, she barely looked old enough to drink.
Shayla squatted next to Duke and gave him a piece of jerky, which he swallowed whole before wiping drool on her black jeans while he searched for more doggy-treats in her pocket. Her friend simply laughed and pulled a travel pack of wet wipes from her fanny pack to clean the trail of saliva on her leg. Prepared for anything. Classic Shay.
Addi covered Duke's ears with her hands. “Sorry, Duke's no superstar. Starbuck would have handled this whole thing like a pro. At least she comes when called and if I wanted to put her in a onesie, she'd let me.”
Unfortunately, Addi was right. Her K9 Academy drop-out was less obedient than her sister's fluffy rabbit.
“Remind me why I'm putting myself through this again,” Haley grumbled, accepting Shayla's hand so she could get to her feet without flashing her red undies to the rest of the park.
“Because our good friend Charlie needs this calendar to raise money for the animal shelter and save all the poor, unloved creatures of the world.” Shayla twirled her ponytail and pulled a hair tie off her wrist, then secured her hair in a messy bun. “Save your pouting for the camera.”
Taking advantage of the distraction, Duke slipped out of Addi's grip, knocked Shayla on her ass and bounded across the park, one leg of the lime green onesie flapping in the wind behind him.
“Duke. Stop.” Haley's firm voice worked it's magic, for a few seconds at least, until he crouched low and began making his way closer to the water, one slow, sneaky step at a time. Well, as sneaky as a dog in a lime green onesie could be.
“It's such a mystery how Duke never made it onto the police force.” Addi's voice came out soft and teasing as she struggled not to laugh. “And I think I just figured out why he's so distracted.”
Attention back on her dog, Haley stiffened at the sight of Duke prancing in circles around Ryan on the grass beside the running track. Her stomach flipped, her heart raced, and her tingling limbs turned to wilted celery sticks, struggling to keep her upright.
Just the usual reaction to the love of her life. Unchanged since she'd developed her unrequited crush on him at fourteen years old, although it'd become much less pathetic three years ago when he'd finally seen her as a woman instead of “one of the guys” and they'd fallen in love. Move-in, adopt-a-dog, plan-a-life-together love. She'd had everything she ever wanted; perfect job, perfect guy, perfect life... Until it imploded.
Apparently, it's not possible to have it all. Lesson learned.
With everyone distracted, she took a moment to check out the man she'd thought would become her husband. Black track pants hugged his lean hips and firm ass as he bent over to pat Duke mid-butt-wiggle dance, reserved especially for his dad. Her unhealthy fascination with Ryan’s toned shoulders and biceps leveled up at the sight of the red t-shirt stretched over his sculpted physique. Firefighters needed strength for their work, but she'd been more impressed with the way he could use those arms to toss her onto a bed or hold her up against a wall as they made love.
A flash of memory from their mind-blowing night together over Christmas short-circuited her brain and sent blood rushing to places it shouldn't. She shook the traitorous thoughts from her head even as her lady parts, starved for attention, geared up for a repeat they could never have.
Since that incredible, but disastrous encounter, Ryan had done a one-eighty. No more flirting or trying to convince her to come back to him. She'd set the rules after their breakup and he was finally following them, being the old Ryan, her best friend...and she was miserable, and totally alone in struggling with her feelings these days.
Ryan jogged over to the group. His dark brown hair, usually kept military short, had grown out and the soft wave curling over his forehead moved with the breeze. He also hadn't shaved in a few days. Did he know the scruffy look was such a turn on?
She should not be getting hot and bothered from the sight of his delectably sweaty arms or the slight bump in his nose from when he'd broken it fighting with a bully who'd been teasing her in fifth grade. Her heart swelled and fluttered and expanded her chest uncomfortably.
Let me strangle myself with that damn onesie.
“Who's responsible for this animal abuse?” He plucked the fabric of the elf costume between his fingers and flashed a grin with full wattage that made his brown eyes sparkle and her heart trip over itself.
Shayla popped her hip and pursed her lips, looking as formidable as a fairy-sized woman could. “Don't dis the onesie! I made it especially for Duke and he is going to slay this photoshoot.”
Ryan lifted his hands in surrender. “Anything for a good cause, right?”
“I'm glad you said anything.” Shayla stepped forward, her full lips pulled wide and a determined glint in her eye. “Congratulations, you're now joining Haley and Duke as Santa.”
Ryan's eyes widened and he looked to Haley for backup, but she was too busy wrangling control of her heart and hormones to intervene. Addi grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the gazebo.
Just freakin' great. She did not need to spend the next half hour up close and personal posing for the camera with a man she wanted to jump, but who she'd ordered to keep his hands off her. Close proximity spelled danger at this point. For her at least.
Ten minutes later, Haley’s fingers itched to strangle Shayla for putting her through this torture. The knot in her gut tightened each time the breeze lifted her flouncy red velvet skirt with white trim, or when she bared an eyeful of cleavag
e courtesy of the skimpy matching vest. Even worse, Ryan resembled a male stripper, bare above the waist except for the Santa hat they'd taken from her costume to perch on his head. How would she survive up close and personal to all that temptation?
They both knelt on a fleece blue and white snowflake blanket behind Duke who lapped up the attention. Ryan barely touched her unless asked by Shayla for a particular pose, but he radiated heat, her skin sizzling from his proximity. Or she could be burning up from the inside.
A crowd of locals gathered, fascinated by the sight of a scantily clad firefighter and police officer. The horde of women slavering over Ryan's sculpted pecs and six-pack didn't help her mood, but Shayla and Addi loved it. Projected sales of the calendar would skyrocket. These women would sell their souls to get their horny little hands on Mr. December.
“He can slide down my chimney any day.”
A low growl escaped Haley's throat with each comment from the crowd. She locked eyes with Ryan who sent her a panty-melting wink before turning back to the camera.
“Didn't realize you freelanced as a stripper these days, Ryan.” Nate Hawthorn leaned against the railing of the gazebo, grinning. He’d just found the perfect way to torture his friend for the next five hundred years.
“Just giving the people what they want.” Ryan waved to the women in the crowd, who hollered like tweens at a Bieber concert.
Unwanted jealousy bubbled in her gut, a toxic soup of emotions driving her mad with the need to poke out every set of eyeballs ogling her man.
Her ex.
Damn it.
He didn't seem to mind the attention, and that bothered her more than anything. Ridiculous of her to mourn him moving on when she'd told him, begged him, to do just that.
He didn't have to get over me so quickly. My head's still spinning.
Not his fault she hadn't been tempted to so much as look at another man since the breakup. Ryan could look at, or flirt with, whoever he wanted.
Where We Belong (Hideaway Bay, #1) Page 1