by Leslie North
“It can be a trade that saves you money if that’s easier to swallow. My skills and labor in exchange for a room. I’m also worried the sabotaged step might not be the end of your mom and Darryl’s plans to hurt you and the B&B,” he continued to lobby, obviously reading her reluctance but probably not understanding why. “You could be in constant danger, and I want to be on hand to protect you and the baby.”
Well, damn. When he put it that way, she’d be stupid not to accept his help. No amount of pride was worth the chance of their baby being hurt.
“Okay, fine,” she begrudgingly agreed. “You can stay in the second bedroom in my apartment.”
4
An hour later, on the way back from stuffing his duffle with everything he could possibly need, Harris left his apartment behind and contemplated the urge growing stronger.
Glancing at his cellphone resting against his thigh for the third time, he exhaled long and loudly. “Just do it already,” he murmured.
At the stop light he yanked the phone up and smashed his thumb on the phone number for Lee.
It rang twice, then his brother’s voice came on the line, “I didn’t get in until two A.M., and you’re damn lucky I couldn’t sleep in.”
“Oh shit,” Harris stated, his eyes flying to the clock on the dash. It’d be 8:33 A.M. in California. “I forgot about the time zone difference.”
A loud yawn filled the speaker. “Yeah, well, I’m about to head out on another job.” Lee had accepted a position as a temporary bodyguard/extra security for hire. “I’ll be flying in and out of the country, so it’s good you called now. What’s up?”
“I want to conference Chance in,” Harris answered instead. “Hold on.”
The light turned green and he gunned the engine, smiling at the way the Mustang growled in response, then pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. No sense causing an accident trying to fill his brothers on the latest bombshell blowing up his life. Parking, he found his older brother’s number in the contacts.
“Harris?” Chance rumbled, the sound of an air impact gun whirred in the background. Made sense. Chance worked full time in his fiancée’s garage. He’d initially retired from the service to take care of their father in his last days. After the funeral, he finished the transition from a badass SEAL to mechanic and loved every second.
“Let me conference Lee in,” Harris said, then pushed the right buttons. “Lee? You there?”
“Yeah,” Lee answered. “Hey, Chance.”
“Lee,” Chance replied. “Not to be a dick or anything, but I’ve got a motor hanging above a car and it needs to be installed by the end of the day. What’s going on?”
And that summed up Chance in a nutshell. He’d give you his shirt off his back, but he never beat around the bush or participated in idle chit-chat for long.
“Two things,” Harris started right, not wanting to drag this conversation out. “I’ve been deactivated from my Raider unit.’
“What the fuck?” Chance thundered as Lee shouted the same thing.
In as few words as possible, Harris told them about his CO forcing a mental health evaluation on him after his recent losses.
Silence filled the speaker, then Chance spoke. “It sucks, and I agree talking isn’t comfortable, but, shit, Harris, you could have told us about Shawn.”
A pang ripped through Harris at hearing his best friend’s name which triggered a flash of the last time he saw Shawn’s face—
“I spent three weeks in a car with you and you didn’t say anything?” Lee chimed in. “Not cool.”
Harris dropped his head back onto the headrest. “You’re right. I should’ve said something, but I can barely close my eyes without seeing the horror of Shawn,”—he had to swallow against a lump—“stepping on that IED.”
More expletives filled the speaker.
“Then Dad dies on top of that,” Lee added. “I get why your CO is making sure you’re fit for duty. Just suck it up, say what they want to hear, and enjoy staying stateside instead of shipping out to some godforsaken hellhole.” He then chuckled. “Hell, make the most of it and find a woman to help you cope.”
Harris shifted in the leather seat. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “It’s funny you should say that.”
Silence met his ears.
“I have found a woman.” That wasn’t quite true. “Sort of. She’s someone I’ve known casually for a couple of years. Look, the bottom line is right before I came home for the funeral, we hooked up…” Just say it. “And…she’s pregnant.”
The silence grew so long, Harris pulled the phone away to make sure he hadn’t lost the call.
“You’re going to be a father?” Chance finally asked.
“Yes.” Harris exhaled.
“Are you happy about that?” Lee asked.
Harris blinked. He hadn’t really thought about it. He’d just been running on adrenaline, disbelief, and anxiety over what would happen next. Part of him really wanted to run, screaming, while another part was in awe. Him. A father. He still couldn’t believe it. “I, um, I don’t know. Yes, I think I am, but it’s terrifying.” It hit him all over again. “I’m going to be a fucking dad.”
“Congratulations, then,” Chance exclaimed, laughing. “Son of a bitch. I can’t believe it.”
“I keep thinking that very same thing,” Harris retorted, snorting.
“You going to marry the mother?” Lee asked.
“I don’t know.” Harris traced a finger over the steering wheel. “We’re taking my forced leave time to get things ready for the baby—and get to know each other better. She’s amazing, no doubt, but we need to figure out how we’re going to be parents. If it feels right, then hell, yeah, I’ll marry Rachel, but until I then, I can’t even think about it.”
Harris lifted the ham and cheese sandwich that Rachel had cut into halves and took a large bite. Sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a lunch with her in the main part of the house, felt a little surreal. He knew so much about her intimately, yet, didn’t know anything at all.
“Is there any chance you’re wrong?”
Harris snapped his gaze from the sun-filled waves crashing against the beach beyond the French doors to Rachel. “What? I’m sorry. I must have zoned out.”
She set her half of her sandwich onto her plate and swigged water from her glass. “The step. Is there a chance it wasn’t sabotaged? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He polished off the last bite of his half and swiped his fingers together to get rid of the crumbs. “I’m not wrong. The ends were too clean, too straight for the break to be natural.” He fiddled with his glass. “Someone deliberately weakened that step so it would break.”
The color drained from her face and Harris could kick himself for not wording it gently.
“I can see my mother sending a building inspector but not sabotaging a step.” Rachel pushed her plate away; she’d barely touched the food. “Tammy Winchester thinks only of herself. And right now, she wants what she believes is on this property. If that means causing my business to close, then so be it, but she’s never physically tried to harm me or anyone.”
“But it’s not just your mother at play here,” Harris interjected softly, even as the anger at remembering Rachel falling through the step kept rising. She could have been seriously hurt. “Besides your mother and Darryl, does anyone else have a grudge against you? You have any enemies?”
“None that I can think of.” Rachel rubbed her stomach and Harris couldn’t stop following the movement. Their baby was growing beneath her hand. “Darryl was pissed off and threatening yesterday—”
“What?” Harris jerked forward and his chest hit the end of the table. “You said he was insulting, but you didn’t mention threats. What did he say?”
Rachel waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing explicit. He was upset that I laughed at his offer to buy me out with cash, so he ranted about how I’ll one day beg him to buy the place.”
Red tinged the edges
of Harris’s vision and his hands clenched into fists on his lap. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” He would have demanded to move in right then.
Her blue eyes flashed up to his in surprise. “It’s nothing, Harris. He’s the type of bully who talks loud but is really a coward. If you had been there, you’d have seen that he was more reacting to being laughed at then making any real threats. He wants the mythical treasure.”
Harris wasn’t convinced but without any evidence to the contrary, he couldn’t argue. “And just how much is this treasure supposed to be worth?” People had been known to do crazy things when a lot of money was involved.
Rachel shrugged and a spot of color returned to her cheeks. “No one knows.” Picking up the barely touched half of her sandwich, she took a bite.
That action soothed him. She needed to eat, but he knew nothing about what was normal for a pregnant woman. He’d remedy that as soon as possible. Google was about to become his bestest friend.
After swallowing, she flicked her gaze at him. He found her sudden embarrassment adorable and smiled at the way the red on her cheeks deepened.
“Since I was a girl,” she began, “I’ve found the thought of a long-lost treasure exciting. I’d spend all my free time in the library researching it.”
He hung on every word, loving this glimpse into what made up this incredible woman.
“The older I got, the more advanced my research became.” She took another bite and quickly swallowed. “Some lore said that the pirate had left a treasure for a young widow who was his lover.” Her face softened. “The widow watched the seas every day for his safe return.”
Oh my God. She was a romantic. Who would guess that this gorgeous, courageous, fierce fairy had a secret romance fetish? She was so steadfast and practical—and downright naughty when they used to flirt in the bar—she never gave off a romance vibe. Warmth filled him at discovering another layer beneath her tough shell.
“Some stories state the pirate never returned,” Rachel continued, her voice becoming more matter-of-fact as her face lost the softness. “While others say he did. Multiple accounts from the townsfolk disagree on where the treasure was buried and what the supposed treasure chest actually contained.”
Harris instantly missed the romance shining within her.
Rachel met his gaze after she finished off the sandwich half. “Most likely there is no treasure. I mean, it’s been hundreds of years and no one’s found it yet.”
“Why don’t we do some searching on the property ourselves?” He wanted her excited and engaged again. “Sure, there probably isn’t any treasure, but who knows what we might find? The property is so old, there’s bound to be something of interest hidden away on it.”
A flash flitted in her beautiful blue irises, and her smile began to grow as she studied his face.
Entwining his hand with hers, he continued to lobby his case. “Just because we’re grownups doesn’t mean we can’t go exploring. And if Darryl and your mom are right and there really is something valuable here, shouldn’t we try to find it before they can?”
Her blue eyes darkened and tension rose in the air around them. God, he wanted to taste her lips again. Were they just as soft as he remembered? He tightened his grip and inched his face closer—
“Fine,” Rachel stated, pulling her hand from his and leaning as far back as she could. “We’ll join in the hunt. But—” She stood at the same time, her chair scraping against the floor loudly. “—only if we find the time between working on the house repairs and preparing for the baby.”
And just like that, the spell was broken. But he still considered the interaction a win. He’d learned more about her than when he’d started, and she continued to make plans that included him.
“In the meantime, we’ve got a bachelorette party to get ready for,” she tossed over her shoulder as she put their plates in the sink.
5
“He touched his toes after his dash from the water!” a female cried. “Two drinks!”
Ten glasses filled with all manner of alcohol giddily lifted to the mouths of bachelorette party guests.
The evening had kicked off just as the sun had disappeared and moonlight spread across the beach and caressed the waves. Rachel had lit special torches to keep the bugs from invading the well-illuminated veranda. She wanted nothing she could control putting a pall on the festivities. Not only could she earn a nice tip (baby fund!), but word-of-mouth advertising worked the best for a business like hers and these ladies were not known for their discretion. Rachel had already graduated high school when a lot of these women had started, but their popularity had been known far and wide and still remained strong.
“I’m going to pass out if he keeps this up,” one woman protested with a huge smile on her face that belied her complaint.
“Pushups!” a third woman yelled. “One drink for every five he does.”
The women whooped and raised their glasses to their mouths as they avidly watched shirtless Harris executing an entire workout routine on the beach.
Rachel shook her head and quietly replaced two empty glass pitchers with fresh ones. One was refilled with margaritas and the other brimming with Bellinis.
“Rachel,” Sophie—the bride-to-be—exclaimed, spotting her at the refreshment table. “You are the best. How did arrange for that delicious piece of man meat to be our entertainment?”
An emotion that started with the letter “mine” that Rachel did not want to look too closely at raced through her. She plunked the empty pitchers onto her wheeled cart and inhaled, then instantly regretted it. The scents from the finger foods and alcohol rolled her stomach, and she worried she’d upchuck all over the selections.
Smile, they’re paying guests. “Harris—” She bit her tongue to keep from saying the words lives with me. She had no claim on him or right to imply they had a relationship. No, we’re just going to be parents together, that’s all. Yikes. She had to get control of her hormones fast. “Harris, uh, is helping me with a few construction projects before he’s due back on base.”
Ten pairs of eyes whipped to Rachel.
“He’s a marine?” At the same time someone else asked, “He’s living here?”
“You hear that, girls? He’s ours all night,” Sophie crowed, lifting her fist in the air like she’d scored a goal.
Rachel’s eyes snuck to the man of the hour. He’d been punishing his body with an insane routine that involved swimming, running, sprints, pushups, and more. And she had drooled over every second. God, his body was amazing, all tan and rippled with muscle. Not long before he disappeared after fixing the front step, he had taken a razor to the scruff on his face, and she missed the rumpled appearance.
The maid of honor, Mary Jo, plucked the pitcher of Bellinis off the table that also sported wine, soda, and water on top of the individual alcohol bottles for making their own cocktails.
She turned and lifted the amber-filled pitcher. “We should be drinking Sex on the Beach.”
Everyone cackled uproariously.
Harris stopped his pushups and seamlessly stood.
Within seconds, the two pitchers Rachel had just put out were emptied among the women’s glasses.
Heavy footsteps hit the wooden stairs and the bachelorette party clapped and cat-called mercilessly.
Red broke out on Harris’s cheeks and he ducked his head with a wry smile. “I guess I wasn’t as hidden by the dark as I thought.”
“You’re the best drinking game I’ve played in a long time,” Mary Jo stated, saluting him with her glass, then taking a healthy gulp.
“Drinking game?” Alarm filled his expression and Rachel hid her smile by plopping a mostly empty tray of cheese onto her cart.
“Hell, yeah,” Diana answered after smacking her lips from her margarita—or maybe from eyeing Harris like he was her next meal. “Never figured exercise would be so much fun.”
Harris stalked between the chairs and stopped beside Rachel. Sweat gliste
ned on his skin, and it took everything Rachel had not to lean forward and lick the salty offering.
“Do I want to know?” he asked, lifting a reddish-brown eyebrow.
Rachel laughed. “Probably not.”
“Harris,” Sophie called, motioning him to come over with a flapping hand. The alcohol had definitely seeped into her blood. “I hear you’re going to be doing some construction work.”
Snickers filled the veranda, and his smile froze as he moved toward the bride-to-be.
“Can you show me how your grip your hammer?” one of the women called while another asked, “I bet he’s an ace at drilling.”
Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth but could do nothing about her shaking shoulders.
Masculine laughter filled the night, raising goose bumps on Rachel’s skin.
“You ladies are terrible.” His smile eased into one she recognized from all the times she used to see him at the bar over the years. He was about to get his flirt on.
Jealousy ripped through Rachel, and she couldn’t help but label it this time. She couldn’t help but feel like that smile belonged to her. Stupid, yes, but there it was all the same.
“We’re just getting warmed up,” Mary Jo crooned, slinking between a chaise lounge and a side table to stand next to him.
“I have no doubt.” Harris nodded as he pointedly looked at the wreck around them. “But I’m thinking this party needs to be kicked up a notch.”
WHOOPS! and drinks raised high greeted that statement.
Rachel’s hands curled into fists.
Harris put a hand to his ear and pantomimed listening to something. “Hear that? Oak Leaf Brewery is calling your names.”
All the air rushed out of Rachel and she hung her head in disgust with herself. Here she’d been about to strangle someone (Harris or the first woman who laid a finger on him), and he was craftily ushering the bachelorette party off the premises. As much as Rachel wanted to add rooms for them to crash in onto the final bill, drinking weekends tended to get out of control and cause destruction, and this one had all the earmarks of falling into that realm. Rachel had confessed her fear to him earlier, and he’d sworn he’d be close to help. And he hadn’t let her down.