by Clara Stone
Cat laughs. I drop my hands and give her a glare. “Girl, the only way that boy’s going to dump you over clothes is if you’re wearing too many of them. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, even before all of this started. He doesn’t care. I mean, seriously, he’s seen you in those hideous sweats more times than anyone ever should and he’s still interested. You’re worrying too much.”
She does have a point. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I moan, covering my face with my hands again.
Cat pulls my hands down and smiles, tugging me up into a sitting position. “We all get a little insecure when boys are involved. There isn’t a single woman alive who doesn’t worry that the men of the world will only like her for her looks. But, baby girl, if a guy only likes you for how you look, you’re better off without him.”
“So, are you saying I should just wear sweats to my date with Harry?”
“Wait. Who’s Harry? I thought—” Her eyes get wide and big. “That’s his real name, isn’t it? Harry? Seriously? I mean, who the hell names their child Harry? No wonder the poor guy calls himself Killshot.” She huffs. “I mean, wow. That’s . . .” She presses her lips together. “Yep. I’d want to be called something else too.”
“Cat!” I yell, trying to get her attention. “Serious? Now?”
She shakes her head. “Right. So, where was I? Oh yeah, sex . . . and Harry.”
I flinch. “It’s Harrington, actually.”
“What?”
“His full name. It’s Harrington.”
“Oh my god. Now that is a horrific name.”
I groan.
She grins. “Anyway, like I was saying, as a female who wants the world to be kept beautiful, hell no! You are absolutely not wearing sweatpants on a date. But what I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be afraid to, if that’s how you’re feeling.”
She’s right. I never felt like this around Vincent, because I always knew he’d see me as beautiful no matter what. And I’ve never cared about what I look like when I go out in public. I mean, I always dress presentable, but I’ve never felt like I had to be beautiful.
But with Harrington, it just all feels so new still, so exciting. And it’s hard for me to think that someone like him would ever see me as beautiful without all the extra trappings.
“Okay,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You’re right. I should wear something I feel comfortable in.”
“Atta girl.” Cat grins wide. “Now, what are you thinking?”
I scoot off the bed and paw through the discarded pile of fabric Cat threw at me. When I don’t find the summer dress I bought a few years back, I go digging in my closet. I find it at the bottom, wadded up in the back corner. I stretch, reaching, and get my fingers on it.
Straightening, I turn to her and hold it up. “What do you think about this?”
“Hmm . . .” Cat taps her chin. “It’s nice, but a bit plain.” She rolls off the bed. “I know just the thing to make it perfect, though. Get changed. I’ll be right back.”
The moment she exits, I undress and slip into the slinky yellow fabric. I stand in front of the mirror Cat let me borrow and turn from side to side. The dress stops just above my knees, and the neckline is cut into a deep U in the front. Spaghetti straps delicately arch over my shoulders, and the back comes to my shoulder blades. All in all, this is probably one of the fanciest dresses I own.
“Hope you’re not naked—not that I mind,” Cat calls before stepping back into my room. “But . . . damn, that looks perfect against your skin tone. Harry—”
“Harrington,” I say, oddly feeling a bit possessive.
She rolls her eyes. “Harrington is going to be mighty hungry tonight.” She winks.
My cheeks warm.
“Oh, come on!” She moves to stand behind me, grinning at me through the mirror. “Give that boy a bone before he dies of a boner.”
“Cat!” I exclaim, my face going from flushed to burning.
She shrugs. “Okay, pair this with black booties and it’ll work. But before you do that . . .” She reaches forward and wraps a red cloth, about three inches wide, around my waist. It looks like a pretzel in the front when she’s done, and has a bow in the back. She adds a little shimmering pendent in the center of the pretzel, just above my belly button. “Now you look like a rocker chick. What do you think?”
“I like it,” I say, grinning. I gather chunks of my hair and pull it up, holding it against my head as I wonder how to style it. But before I can ask Cat, there’s a knock at the front door.
“He’s here!” Cat claps her hands, squealing. “I’ll get it.”
“Cat! My hair.”
She waves her hand at me as she bounces out the door, heading for the living room. “Just put it up—messy, with tons of hair spray. It’ll be perfect!”
Ugh. I do as she suggests, but realize I don’t have any hair spray in my room. I sneak across the hall to Cat’s room and bathroom to see if she has any. She does, but they’re all empty. Damn. I look at myself in the mirror above her sink. This will have to do.
“If he doesn’t like the way you look, then he isn’t worth it,” I tell my reflection. Then, taking a deep breath, I make my way to the living room.
I stop at the sight of him. He’s standing there, smiling and talking with Cat, and looking completely down-to-earth. I feel a wave of relief as I take in his dark jeans and long-sleeve gray shirt. He’s paired that with his usual logger boots and a leather jacket, and his hair is tousled, like he just rolled out of bed. The little dimple in the corner of his mouth is prominent tonight, and he’s wearing the glasses I haven’t seen since that first day by the river. I’ve missed them, I realize, and wonder why he chose to wear them tonight instead of his usual contacts.
When he looks away from Cat, his eyes connect with mine and I feel like my breath’s been taken away by the surge of butterflies that rushes through me.
His smile disappears, and his lips open slightly as he takes in my appearance. But his gaze is strong and steely as he walks toward me. He stops once he’s within hugging distance and smiles. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Warmth spreads across my cheeks as I look up at him. He reaches forward and, unlike all the times before, places a gentle kiss on my cheek, his scruff tickling me as he moves toward my ear. “You’re breathtaking.”
He pulls back, wearing a crooked half-smile.
All of my earlier worries feel silly and immature now. Especially when he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world.
“You too.”
Someone clears their throat and Harrington steps to the side so he’s standing next to me. His arm slides slowly across my lower back and I can’t help the shiver that runs over my skin. Holy shit.
Cat gives me a knowing grin and turns to Harrington, schooling her face into complete seriousness. “Now, I don’t think I need to lecture you on how I’ll ring your balls or anything if you so much as even try to do something my bestie doesn’t want you to do, do I?”
I groan.
Harrington stands taller. “No, ma’am.”
“Good.” She smiles, and I see the same sort of mischief dancing in both of their gazes. “Now go have fun, kids, and make sure to do everything I would do.”
“Oh god,” I groan, while Harrington laughs and Cat gives me a playful wink. She holds the door open as he leads me out and down the stairs to his waiting car. He opens the passenger side door for me and I slide inside, careful to keep my skirt from showing off more than I want to.
He then runs around to the driver’s side and gets in. As soon as the shuts the door, he looks at me and says, “You really are beautiful tonight.”
I smile, shaking my head and looking at my hands as he brings the Evo to life.
“What are you smiling about?”
“You.” I look up; his eyebrow is raised. “This. Us, I guess. I mean, not even an hour ago I was so worried about not having anything nice to wear—”
“What are you talking about? Y
ou look killer in that dress.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say. I feel so silly now. I just didn’t know what to expect, since I know your family comes from money, and I just thought—”
“Woah, woah, woah.” He puts up his hands. “Wait a second.” He pauses and I feel more embarrassed than I’ve ever felt. “You thought I wouldn’t like you because you don’t come from money?”
I purse my lips and hang my head, not wanting to meet the sadness in his eyes. But he doesn’t give me that chance. He puts a finger under my chin and tilts it up, angling my face so that I have to look at him. Then he leans in and presses his mouth to mine, soft and slow. Something sparks inside me and I feel my pulse kick up a notch. My hand comes up to rest against the rough texture of his cheek and I revel in the wonderful feeling warming my insides.
Harrington slowly pulls back and grabs my hand, moving it to rest over his chest and the beating of his heart.
“Do you feel that, sweetheart?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“That’s the reason I want to be with you. Not your background, not because you do or don’t have wealth. But because you make my heart race faster than anything ever has.When I look at you, it’s you that makes me feel warm inside, not your shoes or makeup. It’s you, Jess.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I say nothing. I simply nod, staring up into his blue-tinged hazel eyes, accepting that maybe my life really is finally starting to become something wonderful. And that maybe, if I give it a chance, I just might find something at the end of this rainbow worth fighting for.
He grin suddenly, mischief coming back into his features. And, in typical Harrington way, he adds, “Trust me, it’s not the clothes you wear. Hell, I bet you’ll make my heart race even faster without them.”
“Harry!” I swat at him, my mouth hanging open.
He chuckles, and it’s warm and deep. It does things to my insides. And I realize I’m okay with this. I’m finally okay with my life.
“SEE ANYTHING YOU like?” I ask.
She’s been looking at the menu for so long, licking her lips every time she flips the page, that I wonder what exactly is going on in that head of hers.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many burger options on one menu before,” she says. “I don’t know what I should order.”
“Hmm.” I know what she means. But during our first heart to heart, she talked about Bob’s Burgers and how much she missed it. So when I found out about this Burger joint, I couldn’t think of anywhere more fitting for our first official date. “How about I order a couple and we share?”
She looks up from the menu, her eyes wide. “A couple. Really?”
I pat my belly. “A man’s gotta eat, sweetheart.”
She purses her lips, stopping the smile I see pulling at the corners of her lips from breaking out. “Yeah. I think that works.”
When the waitress comes to take our order, I rattle off about five different burger combos, in a mix of beef and chicken. I also add a large milkshake to the list and an extra basket of fries.
Our waitress looks at me, surprise and just a flicker of irritation in her gaze. “Will that be all?”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “Actually, why don’t you throw in a whole cow while you’re at it?”
I look at Jess and wink. She swallows a giggle.
“What do you think, sweetheart? Too much?”
She shakes her head. “Maybe a little. I think we should save the cow for another day.”
“Okay, the lady has spoken. Just the burgers, fries, and shake, please,” I say to the waitress, with what feels like a cheeky grin. She’s not amused, grumbling something about wasted food as she walks away.
“Why do you enjoy pissing people off so much?” Jess asks.
I shrug. “I can’t risk being too perfect.”
“Oh, is that right?” Her eyes twinkle as she smiles.
“Word.”
“Dude, you’re so weird.”
I tilt my head in acceptance. “Guilty as charged.”
She looks to the side, then back toward me, like she’s trying to hide whatever feelings are brewing inside her. She places her hands over the table and interlocks them together as her eyebrows knit and her earlier smile disappears. “Is it weird to feel guilty for being happy?”
I lean forward and take her hands into mine. She looks up at me. “Why would you feel guilty?”
She laughs nervously. “God, I’m being so silly. Here you are, trying to make this a fun night, and all I’m doing is ruining it.”
While still holding her hand, I slide out of my seat, walk around to her side of the booth, and nudge her to let me in next to her. Once I’m seated, I look her squarely in the eye. “You are not ruining anything.”
She scoffs lightly and averts her eyes. “That’s nice of you to say, but I know I’m failing at this whole dating thing. I’m such a mood-killer right now. You know, it was Vincent who said I should give you a chance? And he was right; I’m glad I did. But it just feels so wrong to be laughing and having fun when he’s struggling like hell to get custody of his half-brothers.”
She’s told me about how Vincent protected her growing up, and how he’s been the pillar of everything for her. Hell, I feel like I know the guy and I haven’t even met him. He even helped her move away from Pine Grove, and truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have met her if she hadn’t. So I have a sort of respect for the man. He seems like an all-around decent guy. I also don’t like seeing Jess unhappy. So I decide right then and there to do something about it. I make a mental note to ask Neil to start looking into the Gallo family, especially the step-mom.
I run a finger over her knuckles. “Just so you know, I don’t have these big ears just so I can attract women.”
She smiles sadly as she looks up, like she can’t quite shake the thoughts weighing her down. She studies me intently, and I shrug and reach for her cheek. I run my thumb over her soft skin and push a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she looks anywhere but at me. “I might be able to help.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “You can? How?”
“What’s the point of having connections, if I can’t pull a few strings for my girl?”
She looks at me for so long that I have to wonder if she even heard me. Finally, she swallows and licks her lips. “No. I can’t. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You aren’t asking.” I lean forward and brush my mouth against hers. “This is my gift to you.”
“But—”
“Jess.” I keep my voice low and deep. “Sweetheart.”
Her breathing hitches, and I know I’ve won.
“Let me do this.”
“I-I—” She swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I’m grinning like a lucky bastard as I slide out of the booth and back to my side, sitting down just as the waitress appears with a massive tray of burgers. I rub my hands together in anticipation and she finally cracks a genuine smile. That alone is worth any legwork I’ll have to do to help ensure Vincent wins his case.
AFTER DINNER, SHE suggests we go back to my place. So we do, and I try not to think of all the potential the night could bring. As I pull into my parking garage, I realize how presumptuous my thoughts are and try hard not to grin as I open the car door for her and lead her upstairs. Once inside, she stands there, studying my place like she’s never been here before. I can tell she’s nervous from the rigid way she’s standing and the way she drums her fingers against her thigh.
I approach her and place my hand over the curve of her shoulder. Her body jerks. She turns around and looks up at me with wide, beautiful green eyes. Her mouth trembles, and I lean forward to brush mine against hers. “Don’t be nervous,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I’m not,” she lies. The quiver in her lips and tiny looks she keeps stealing toward my bedroom says it all. My pulse kicks up a notch and tight coils form in the pit of my stomach. My hand shakes when I reach for
her cheek. “God, you’re beautiful.”
And it’s true. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. If I’m not careful, she could very well be the girl who activates the Lovelly curse, the one that turns all the Lovelly men into puppets.
It happened to Dad, Hudson, and Heath.
And I know I’m not that far behind them. But I also know the consequences of letting someone into my life right now too. The danger I’ll be putting her in.
That thought sends an icy lance through my core and it takes everything in me to pull back, stepping away from her. She’s in danger with me. That fact alone would’ve made me run away before, but now . . . when I look at Jess and see her looking back at me with . . . with so much emotion . . .
I turn away from her and place a hand over my heart. Maybe I’m too late. Maybe the Lovelly gene’s already been activated. Because I can’t run. Even if that’s what would be best, I can’t let her go.
“Harry.”
I blink and turn back to face her. She’s looking at me with her head cocked slightly to the side, one eyebrow raised in question. I give myself a mental shake and smile. Time to get back to the original plan. I might have placed a big red target on her forehead as far as Stamos is concerned, but I sure as hell am not going to let her be defenseless.
The furniture resists and groans as I move it off to the side, trying to make space in the middle of the living room.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is amused.
I grunt as I move the last of the furniture out of the way. “I want to show you something. Get you to relax.”
She grins wide at this and asks, saucily, “You needed to move the furniture for that?”
“Yup,” I respond.
She crosses her arms, but there’s something teasing in the way her hip juts out slightly. “Care to elaborate?”
Instead of responding, I take off my shoes, making sure to keep our gazes locked. I know she won’t like what I’m about to suggest to her, given her past, but I still want to try. Maybe if I try a different tactic . . .
“You’re staring,” she points out.
“I know.” I smirk.