by Lori Garrett
“Daddy,” I plead.
“A girl as pretty as you are should be out every weekend.” He frowns. “And I don’t mean going to honky tonks with Daisy. I mean sitting down with intelligent young men and having nice dinners, going to shows, taking in the sites. This is the time in your life for you to meet the kind of man who’ll be a good husband. And you won’t meet him if you don’t go on more dates.”
I’m desperate to get out of this conversation. “About dance, Daddy—”
“That was my point,” he cuts in. “The life you lead now is fun, and you deserve that. You’re young, you’ve worked hard, and you’re a good girl, so you should enjoy. But, at some point, you need to give up those childish ways. Someday soon your life of fun with Daisy and dance will be done with, and you’ll start a more mature time. Here in Piedmont.”
My next words are harder to get out.
“I know I can’t dance in Piedmont, Daddy.”
For a second there aren’t any sounds but the chirp of the cicadas in the lush trees around our house. Daddy shakes the ice in his glass and takes long sip of his two fingers of single malt.
“Where, exactly, are you thinking of going, Harlow?” He leans back in this rocking chair and squints into the distance.
I swallow hard and say the words, the words that might as well be a string of four-letter curses in this house.
“Well, I was hoping...um, see, I was thinking that...New York City,” I blurt.
The rocking chair stops and Daddy gulps down the rest of his drink.
“Say that for me again, sweet pea?”
My father has perfect hearing. He just wants to bully me into retracting what I said.
I sit up a little straighter and repeat the words, this time in a strong voice. “I’m going to New York City.”
“Harlow Grace, listen to what you’re saying. You want to throw away a perfectly lovely life in Piedmont, surrounded by friends and family who love you so you can travel to a vicious city that prides itself on chewing people up and spitting them out? I know you have a soft spot for Mama—”
“Daddy this is not about Mama,” I say. My throat gets thick just thinking of her.
Mama passed when I was just thirteen, and some of the best times we had were in my old ballet studio. I’d dance my heart out, and Mama would just sit and watch, even when she got so sick, getting out of bed was a chore. She said my dancing was the only thing that could ease her pain, and I never danced better than I did when I was dancing in front of her.
“She loved your dancing. And I think she’d be thrilled to know dancing was still a part of your life, honey. You know, if you worked for me, I’d be sure to let you off to rehearse for the performance of The Nutcracker the Piedmont Ballet puts on every year.”
“That’s not enough, Daddy. It’s my passion. I can’t just do it every now and again. I need to dance every day until I can’t anymore.” I clamp my mouth shut, because I have never, ever talked to my father this way before. I’ve never let him know how much I love dancing, what it means to me.
“Harlow.” He tips his rocking chair back and closes his eyes. “So like your mama.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask. Mama was the sweetest, warmest person I ever met, and I hate that Daddy says I’m like her as if it’s not a good thing.
“Of course not. I loved her dearly. But she was too soft for this world. She and I both wanted you to be stronger. On her deathbed, she made me promise I’d look out for your well-being, and I don’t take that lightly.” My daddy, who is the strongest man I know, gets choked up.
I reach a hand over and grab his. “Daddy. Please, don’t be upset. We can talk this over more.”
He smiles at me, his eyes shiny, and it turns the waterworks on for me. “I got you all upset now. That wasn’t my intention. I love having you home, sugar. No tears. We’ll come to a sensible agreement. I know that. Now, go put on something pretty. I know you won’t be thrilled with me for meddling, but I asked Clay and some friends over for dinner tonight.”
“Clay?” I wipe my tears with the back of my hands, and try to still my temper. So like Daddy to get all emotional and use it to get me to go along with some crazy scheme.
“The young man from Auburn. Bright, very bright. A true gentleman. I’m not saying you have to marry the man, Harlow. Just have some dinner and conversation. They’ll be here in three hours.” He stands from his rocking chair and carries his glass in, humming his favorite Mozart tune.
I’m a little shell shocked. I planned on letting my father know exactly what an independent, confident woman I was. How the hell did it wind up that he didn’t listen to me at all and suckered me into some kind of dinner party with a guy I had no interest in meeting?
I pace along the porch, chewing a thumbnail and checking the window to see if he can catch a glimpse of me from inside. Daddy hates my nail chewing habit. Which just makes me chew harder. I am a grown woman, dammit! If I want to chew my nails to nubs I will.
I’m about to march in and tell Daddy...what? I’m not ready to face him. I have to prepare to do battle with my father. Even when I approach him fully armed, like I had this afternoon, things tend to blow up in my face.
I slide out my phone and run my thumb over the number Daisy sweet-talked off Jared, the bartender who works with Gunner, for me.
I could call Gunner. Ask him to come over on his bike and take me away from this hellish, polite dinner that will bore me to tears.
But I’m not sure he’d come. He and I had sex so amazing, I curl my toes and hug myself tight just remembering. My body shook and burned for his touch all night and into the morning. It was, hands down, the most mind-blowing sex I’d ever had.
But it was that. Sex.
It wasn’t making love.
Every now and then, Gunner would let his guard down and say something or almost say something to let me know he cared. That it made me think that if I could just hold him tighter, show him how good we really are together, he’d open back up. Love me again.
Then he would it all snap shut, often in my face.
I know he was pushing away to protect himself. To protect both of us. But I’m not about to back down. I’m ready to leave Piedmont to start a new life. I’m ready to say goodbye to friends, family, and all things familiar and walk away.
There’s one exception: Gunner.
I can’t trick my heart into believing I don’t care, don’t love him. And I’m ready to fight for his love, one last time. If I fail, I’ll leave forever and close my heart. If I succeeded, I’ll leave with a heart full of love and Gunner by my side.
But that’s a dangerous plan to pin my hopes to. Three years ago, I’d have bet my life on the fact that Gunner and I would never spend a day outside each other’s arms. I couldn’t have been more wrong. But maybe I’d seen trouble brewing and turned a blind eye.
“Come in with me!” I yelled as the water lapped around my thighs. “It’s like a bath!”
“That’s the problem.” Gunner was lying back on the beach, his muscled arms behind his head. He wasn’t wearing anything but low-hanging board shorts that just caught his hips and a tattered baseball cap over his dark hair. His every muscle was defined from the hours of work he did during the day on Mr. Daniels’ farm.
He rarely had a full day off, but work had been cut short by the Daniels’ anniversary trip to Houston. Unexpectedly, Gunner was mine, all mine, and I’d gotten the keys to our beach house and told Daddy I was taking Daisy. Who was pretty pissed to miss a trip to the little gulf town filled with bars that didn’t card hot girls.
I loved being with Daisy, but I needed to drink in every second of alone time with Gunner. We’d only just had sex for the first time, and I was having trouble getting him back in bed.
It was embarrassing and confusing. I’d been a virgin, but I thought I’d made him happy. Why wasn’t he more interested? I figured the problem might fix itself when I donned my skimpiest string bikini, but for the first day of our ti
me together, Gunner did nothing but gaze at me from under his ball cap and put some suntan lotion on me with quick, uninterested swipes.
When I couldn’t get him into the water, I felt like all my embarrassment and uncertainty came to a head. Right there, in the ocean, my lip trembled and I started to cry from sheer frustration.
Gunner sat up on his elbows and I turned my face away, ashamed of what a spectacle I was making over nothing. But he was already up, running so fast the sand kicked behind him. He crashed through the waves and was at my side in no time. I wiped the tears back and shook my head when he grabbed my shoulders.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” He turned me from side to side, then scooped me in his arms as I beat on his back. “You hurt? Something nip you? You step on something sharp? Damnit, Harlow, stop crying and tell me what’s wrong.”
Though I struggled like crazy, Gunner was not going to put me down until I told him what was bothering me, so I just had it out.
“I’m not bit and I didn’t step on a thing, so put me down!” I cried.
“So you can run away from me when I do? No way. You tell me what the hell this is all about, Harlow.” His voice was cool and even, but he tightened his arms round me in a way that let me know I wasn’t going anywhere until I told him.
“Fine. First of all, I was not crying because I was sad. I was crying because I was pissed as hell at you and—”
“Me?” Gunner interrupted, his eyebrows pressed low over those sexy green eyes. “I’ve been on my best behavior all week and—”
“That’s it!” I cried, cutting him off. “That’s the exact problem, Gunner. We had sex and it was amazing. Okay, I realize it may have been more amazing for me since it was my first time...but I think it was good for you.” I paused, a new horrifying thought entering my mind. “Unless...oh Lord, put me down right now. I cannot talk about this with you.”
He didn’t listen to me, and he drew me closer instead of putting me down. “There isn’t a damn thing you can’t talk about with me. Tell me what’s bothering you, kitten.”
I shook my head because I was mortified beyond words. I had such an amazing time when we made love, it never occurred to me that it wasn’t all that impressive for Gunner. Duh! How could I have been such a dope? He’d been having sex for years, and he’d always had his pick of partners...there wasn’t a female in Piedmont who’d turn him down if he crooked his finger her way. I knew he cared about me, but caring didn’t turn a nervous virgin into a sex goddess. No wonder he wasn’t picking up on my hints.
He didn’t want to.
“I...made a big mistake coming here with you,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
He finally put me down. “Alright.” He nodded, pulled his ball cap off his head and ran a hand over his hair. “I’ll be glad to take you back if you like. But I understand if you want Daisy to come get you instead.”
“Fine.” I shrugged and Gunner shoved his hands deep in his pockets and took two steps back from me, then paused and looked right at me, his eyes blazing.
“I knew this whole ‘escape from reality’ thing was a crock of shit,” Gunner said, his voice sharp. “I guess a Mills and a Hunt can sneak off in every corner of Piedmont, but all this?” He held his hands out and gestured to the huge beach houses on every side of us. “I guess it’s not okay for you to bring the help here, is it?”
“What are you going on about?” I stalked close to Gunner and poked him in the chest hard enough to make him back up a step. “The only one who thinks you’re not good enough to be with me is you!”
“And I’m right, Harlow. I’m damn right!” He took me by the upper arms and dragged me close. “I’m not good enough to be with you. And, much as it sucks, I’m glad you realized it.”
“Realized it?” I gazed up into his gorgeous face.
“That’s what this whole thing is about, right?” He shook his head. “You want to leave so you don’t get caught in your cutesy little vacation town with the likes of me.”
“What? No! Not at all. I...I want to leave because I realize you don’t want to have sex with me again.” I could hardly say the words, my voice was shaking so hard.
For a long minute, there was no sound except the lapping waves and rushing wind, then he said, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ve been avoiding me all day, all week. You don’t want to have sex with me, and I get it. I know I wasn’t that good—”
“Can you shut up for a second?” Gunner laughed and held me around the waist, lowering his mouth. “The sex we had? Best sex of my life. And I’ve had a lot, Harlow. I didn’t try again because you were a virgin. I wanted to take it slow. But it hasn’t been easy. Hell, it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was pushing you away. Trust me, I was fighting every second of every day to keep from stripping you down and having my way with you over and over.”
I feel light and perfect in his arms. “I want that. I want you so badly, I don’t know if I can wait.”
Right on the sand, oceans at our back, in the middle of the broad daylight, Gunner slid his fingers under my bathing suit bottoms and slid them into me.
“Fuck, Harlow. You’re ready for my dick right now, aren’t you?”
I nodded and he dragged me toward the water. I dug my heels in. “I don’t want to swim right now.”
He cocked a naughty smile my way. “Me neither, gorgeous. We have that big ole bed to ourselves all night. I don’t wanna risk breaking the headboard just yet.” He kept pulling, and soon we were in the clear, warm water up past our waists.
I looked left and right, but there was no one anywhere on the beach, so I let Gunner undo my top and suck hard on my nipples while his fingers slid in and out of me. I locked my legs around his waist and bobbed on the water.
He pressed his shorts down and yanked the crotch of my bottoms over, fitting me on top of him before he pulled me down and filled me in every way.
“Gunner,” I gasped.
“I love how your titties look all shiny and wet,” he said, pressing hard into me. “I love licking the salt away and tasting your skin, all peaches and cream.”
The water licked at me and held me up and closer to him than I’d ever imagined possible. I bucked against him, hard, breathing hard. My fingers knotted over the elastic muscles of his shoulders, and I gasped when he braced my back with one hand and slid the other down. His palm lay flat on my stomach and his middle finger ran over my clit in quick, maddening circles.
I came undone, my breasts pushed flat against his chest, my arms locked around his neck. A second before he was ready to come, he pulled out, groaning against my neck as his body jerked and released.
“You could have come in me,” I whispered, running my fingers through his damp hair. “I’m on the pill.”
He tied my suit back on with focused attention. “I don’t want to take any chances. The last thing you need is for your future to be over cause you’re knocked up with a Hunt baby.”
The moment shattered like a glass dropped to the cement.
We fixed our suits and waded out of the water. When we came to the back porch of the beach house, I took his hands.
“I don’t want to have children yet, but I’d be proud to have yours someday, Gunner.”
He tightened his fingers over mine and his mouth went flat and hard. “I appreciate you saying that, baby. I really do. But know this now: that’s not a possibility. I’ll never hook you that way.”
There were so many things I wanted to say, but Gunner pulled me into the house, grabbed a bottle of tequila and a cup of ice, and told me to get in the shower and get ready for him.
I couldn’t resist following his command, so I did, and I never regretted it.
Except I wish I’d told him that being hooked to him was the only thing I would ever want. Under all the arrogant swagger, Gunner Hunt needed to know someone loved him with their whole heart.
I gaze out at the wide open summer after
noon and wonder if I should just run to him now.
But I have a dinner party to get through. I don’t need to raise my father’s suspicions. Upset as he is about the idea of me pursuing ballet, and even as mortified as he is about New York City, nothing could hold a candle to the pure outrage he’d feel if he knew I was so much as thinking of holding hands with Gunner Hunt.
Good thing my daddy doesn’t know I’m constantly thinking about doing so much more than holding Gunner Hunt’s hand. So much more.
I swallow hard as a fresh rush of memories hits my brain, then turn to go to the kitchen and make sure nothing is needed for dinner tonight.
I have a feeling I’ll figure out a way to skip out at the end and make Gunner Hunt my personal dessert.
********
“Clay, this is my daughter Harlow. Harlow, Clay Wilson.”
“Pleasure,” Clay says. He extends his hand and I shake it quickly, but not before running my thumb across his palm and confirming exactly what I suspected. Perfectly smooth hands. Hands that haven’t seen hard work. There’s no doubt in my mind Clay doesn’t know how to please a woman with them. They’re nothing like Gunner’s hands.
Clay is handsome. Charming. I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice guy. And I’m sure when he’s older, he’ll have a beautiful home like my dad owns, and look just like any of the other guests here tonight. He’ll be happy enough, but there will never be any spark in his life. And even though my life would probably be easier if I could, I’ve never been able to accept that as my fate. I want to know that even on the crappy days, I’ve lived so much more than most people. That I loved wholly and crazily. I want that spark. Every day. That’s what dance is for me, and that’s what Gunner is, too.
“I invited Daisy. She’ll be by once she runs home to change. You don’t mind, do you, Dad?” I ask, as we all make our way to the screened in porch where dinner is ready to be served. There are white twinkling lights and handmade menus at each place setting.