Discovering Harmony (Wishing Well, Texas #3)

by Melanie Shawn

  I knew he was saying those things because he was determined that this was going to be our last night together, but it wasn’t. Not if I had anything to say about it. Even if it was, I didn’t want to spend it being sad, or dwelling on that depressing fact, not when there were extra-large bones we could play with.

  In an attempt to change the somber tide back to pleasure waves, I gripped the base of his massive member, lifted my hips, and placed his engorged head at my opening. His eyes were glued to where our bodies touched and his fingers flexed on my thighs.

  “I don’t see why it can’t be both: Sex and being close,” I teased as I sank down on him about a half an inch. “Do you?”

  “Both is good,” he rasped as he slid his hands up my thighs and his finger found my clit.

  As he intimately massaged the hood of my sex I eased down on him until he was buried deep inside of me. Slowly, inch by incredible inch, until I took all of him. I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the fullness of his body filling me.

  When I opened them, the look of love, of reverence, as he stared up at me stole my breath away. Resting my hands on his chest, I used his body as leverage as I lifted my hips and pushed back down. My core began vibrating with bliss as he slid in and out of my tight passage. His finger never left my magic button, and the combination had me heading straight for Orgasm City.

  I thought I might be able to prolong my visit, but when one large hand clamped over my breast and tweaked my nipple, it put me in the express lane and I was passing the city limits before I could put on the brakes.

  My entire body erupted in a dizzying explosion of dazzling rapture. Stars whirled behind my eyelids as pleasure lashed from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. Tremors quaked through me and I let myself give over to their power. I didn’t think, didn’t speak, I just let go and sank into the erotic oblivion.

  When I started regaining my senses, I felt him sit up. He lifted my legs and wrapped them behind his back causing my pelvis to tilt and him to drive deeper into me. I encircled my arms around his neck as his hips rolled in a move I’d only seen on Magic Mike. My chest was heaving, still breathless from my release, and a tingle spread from my nipples as they rubbed on his bare chest. I loved the feeling of being skin to skin. Being with Hud, like this, felt like our bodies were two parts of the same piece. That we’d been made for each other.

  Rocking as he slid in and out of my body, I moved my hips in time to his, meeting his rhythm as my lips gravitated to one of my favorite places on Hud’s body, his neck. I kissed and licked his soft skin as he made love to me. I held onto him tight, never wanting to let him go.

  Tonight, when he’d told me that I wasn’t a forever girl, it had turned my entire world upside down. No one wielded the power that Hud held over me. If any other guy had said that, I probably would have told them they were right. I’d always prided myself on being anything but a forever girl. But, hearing Hud say it had sent me reeling.

  When I left the parking lot, my plan had been to go home, pack and leave. Go anywhere. Pick a place on the map and move there. But, during my walk, as I’d given myself a pep talk and gathered the pieces of my shattered ego, I realized something. No man had ever caused me as much pain or as much pleasure as Hud. No one ever could because I’d never let anyone in before. Love was scary. And sometimes painful. But, that didn’t mean that I should run.

  This was my home. Whether things worked out with Hud or not, Wishing Well was where I belonged. I hoped that things worked out between us, I’d even stopped by the wishing well and tossed in several coins carrying those wishes. But for better or worse, I was home.

  Now, I just had to convince Hud of that.

  “I love you,” he whispered as he drove into me, his palms filled with my backside, his fingers flexing in sensual massage.

  “I love you, too,” I answered as I continued showering attention on the side of his neck. I repeated those words over and over again as I peppered kisses up and down the sexy slope of his neck.

  The corded muscles of his shoulders bunched beneath my touch as he began moving in faster, measured strokes. He heaved in short gasps as he whispered in a low growl how good I felt, how tight and wet I was, and how hard I made him. His words sent a swirl of tantalizing heat whipping through my core.

  My inner walls clenched in release as his hips bucked and he drove up into me in a deep, hard thrust. His body stiffened as my world was seized with a rush of sensation so intense I let out a silent cry against his neck. A tidal wave of enormous power crashed over me, overwhelming me with its velocity and strength.

  After the last shuddering twitch claimed me, Hud lay down and tucked me beside him. His fingers raked through my hair as his arm held me firmly in place. I’d missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around me this week. Even though we’d only spent one night together, I’d still tossed and turned every night since he’d been in my bed. Missing the weight of his body beside me, and the safety and love I felt being his arms. I was lucky to get even three hours of fitful sleep a night.

  I felt myself yawning and, as much as I tried to keep my eyes open, I just couldn’t seem to do it. As sleep pulled me under, the last thought I had was Hud might think I didn’t know what I wanted, but he was wrong. And I was going to prove it to him. I wasn’t sure how yet, but I would. Even if it was just taking it one night at a time.

  Chapter 28

  Harmony

  “Go after life like it’s somethin’ that’s got to be roped in a hurry before it gets away.”

  ~ Loretta Reed

  The heel of my cowboy boot clicked on the linoleum floor of the station as my knee bounced up and down. I alternated staring at the round clock that hung on the wall across the entrance from me and the glass double doors to my right. The ones that Hud would be walking through in fifteen minutes—or at least that’s what the woman at the desk had told me every time I’d asked since I’d arrived over three hours ago.

  It seemed to be her go-to response whenever anyone asked anything. A gentleman had been in earlier to pick up paperwork and she’d told him to take a seat and someone would be with him in fifteen minutes. His fifteen minutes ended up being an hour. My fifteen minutes were pushing three and a half.

  With every minute that passed, my nervous energy expanded like suds in a dishwasher that had been filled with hand soap instead of detergent. This whole plan had sounded so good this morning when I’d come up with it. Now I wasn’t just second guessing it, I was third, fourth, and fifth guessing it.

  Needing to reassure myself that I was, in fact, doing the right thing, I pulled out the piece of paper that had been lying on my bed in the spot where Hud should’ve been when I woke up this morning, and I read it again:

  Good morning, Princess,

  Last night was amazing and the time we’ve spent together will always be in my heart. I know you don’t agree with me, but this doesn’t have a future. I’ve seen it happen all the time. People want to get out of here, but then they end up staying because of a relationship or work or whatever the reason and ten, fifteen years later, they’re miserable shells of themselves. I would die before I’d let that happen to you. All I want is for you to be happy. To have the full, rich life you deserve. Your best life. To have more. That’s all I want, and I’ll sacrifice my happiness, my forever, for it. Because, no matter what you will always be my forever girl.

  Love,

  Hud AKA Superman

  I sighed as I folded the paper back up and stuck it in my pocket. Why were men so stupid sometimes? He might’ve thought he was doing the right thing, but he wasn’t. And I planned on letting him know just how off base he was as soon as he walked through those doors. Which, according to Marge, was going to be in “fifteen minutes.”

  I patted my other pocket to make sure the item I’d picked up this morning was still there. It was, but I noticed my hands were damp with perspiration. I rubbed them on my legs, but it didn’t really help since I was wearing cutoffs and I’d overdone it just a
little bit on my lotion application this morning. My legs looked like they’d been greased down for a Hawaiian Tropics competition. I thought about going into the bathroom to wipe some of it off, but since the fifteen minute window was still in effect, I stayed put.

  My entire plan hinged on me surprising him when he walked in. Well, that wasn’t true. I could probably surprise him just as easily if he was at his desk, or even at his squad car. But this is where I’d played the scene out in my mind about a hundred times in the last three hours, so this is where it was going to go down.

  I’d even memorized a small speech. I’d imagined several different responses he might have, and my responses to them. The script was written, and the location had been scouted; no bathroom lotion removal break for me.

  Glancing down, my second and third guessing transferred to my clothes. The jury was still out as to whether or not I’d chosen the right outfit for this occasion. My first instinct had been a summer dress, for two reasons. First, the situation warranted a little class, and second, the last two times I’d worn them (i.e. yesterday and last Wednesday) I’d gotten lucky. If there was ever a day I wanted lady luck on my side, this was it.

  I’d had two contenders laid out on the bed when a little voice in my head reminded me what my brothers had always called “Southern boys lingerie,” which was cutoff jeans and a tank top, ala Daisy Duke. I’d heard all of them say that there was nothing hotter than a girl in jean shorts, cowboy boots, and low cut shirt. Since my plan, or ambush—tomayto, tomahto—was going to take place in public, I couldn’t very well wear a teddy from Victoria’s Secret, but I could slap on my best cutoffs, boots, and a tank top.

  So that’s what I’d gone with. And now, here I sat. Waiting.

  Not having anything else to do, I pulled out my phone to check my hair. Again. Yep. It was still there.

  As I put my phone back I noticed some commotion behind the counter, which had glass that went all the way to the ceiling. People were talking on radios and codes were being thrown around. I watched like it was an episode of CSI, since it was the only action I’d seen in hours.

  If I weren’t so jacked up on nerves, I would’ve been bored out of my mind. Destiny and Cara had both told me that I should download some movies to watch on my phone while I waited, since there was no WiFi access at the station, but had I listened? Nope. I’d been too caught up in what I was wearing and planning what I was going to say.

  My flair towards the dramatic had been a running joke in my family. Growing up, my brothers and parents all thought I was going to be an actress. I thought it might happen, too. It was definitely heading in that direction for a hot minute.

  When I was twelve I got the coveted lead of Mary in the Christmas play. I loved it all. Learning my lines, rehearsals, fittings, lights, costumes…everything. Unfortunately, I never made it to the big show. At dress rehearsal my understudy, Isabella (Bella) Conner, and I were sitting backstage and her aunt, who was an awful human being, came back and told her that she better hope and pray nothing happened to me because if Bella had to go up on the stage, it would ruin the entire performance. I’ll never forget the look in Bella’s eyes when her aunt had said those words.

  Bella was a couple years older than me and I only knew her because she’d been Colton’s girlfriend since they were in middle school. Also, everyone kind of knew her because her dad had died tragically after being hit by a drunk driver and her mom, who wasn’t that stable to begin with, had turned to pills, which she overdosed on and ended up at a mental health facility. That was how she’d ended up living with her awful aunt.

  The night of the performance, I’d gotten “sick.” So Bella did get up on that stage, because screw her aunt, that’s why. If anyone deserved the spotlight it was Isabella Conner. And the show was better for it. The whole town still, to this day, talked about her performance. Not that she would know, she ended up leaving Wishing Well before that summer to live with a relative overseas. To this day Cara, Destiny and I still believed that Colton hadn’t got over her. He tried once, going on a dating reality show, but it hadn’t worked out. And, I’d decided then that if an understudy could steal the show that easily, it was probably better I focus my career goals elsewhere.

  I looked up when a woman came barreling through the front. “Is it Tyler?! I heard over the radio.” She banged on the glass partition. “Is it Tyler?!”

  Speaking of dramatic…

  Within seconds a uniformed officer opened a side door. “Monica, Tyler’s fine. He’s still on scene, but it has been contained. We have verbal confirmation that there is only one officer down.”

  Officer down?

  “Oh, thank God.” The young, pretty brunette collapsed against the wall, and it was then that I noticed she was pregnant.

  My entire body went numb. Was that what I wanted? To live every day not knowing if Hud was coming home? Forget traveling or living in New York, I didn’t care about that. But this? Could I be Monica?

  Her hands rested on her belly, and she asked, “Who is it? Who’s been shot?”

  I noticed the officer’s eyes shoot to me, for just a split second, before he refocused them on her and non-answered, “Tyler’s fine. I’ll have him call and check in with you.”

  Panic began to well in my chest. Why did he do that? Look at me before he gave a non-answer? Was it because I was an outsider? Or was it because…

  “What is the name of the officer who’s been shot?” I asked before he shut the door.

  “Someone will be with you soon. Take a seat. It should only be about fifteen minutes.” With that he stepped back inside the glass fortress and shut the door.

  I wanted to throw the chair at him and tell him he could shove fifteen minutes up his ass. I needed to know if Hud was okay. Now. The panic was now choking me. I looked around for some clue, some hint of what to do. If I thought that banging on the glass, like Monica had, would get me answers then I would bang till my hands bled. But I knew that wouldn’t do anything.

  Grabbing my phone, I scrolled through my contacts until Officer Killjoy came up. My fingers shook as I pressed his name. It went straight to voicemail.

  Shit. Just as I was about to demand answers from someone, anyone, a text came through. It was from Mrs. Reed.

  Honey, I don’t know if you’re still at the station, but we just got news that Hud’s been shot. He’s stable, for now. He’s at Parrish Creek. That’s all we know. Jasper and I are on our way to the hospital now. It’ll take us a little bit, we were already a few hours away.

  See you there. Don’t worry. It’s Hud, he’ll be fine.

  I stood there, shaking. Paralyzed with fear.

  “Are you okay?” Monica touched my arm.

  I didn’t know what to say. “Hud…Hud’s been shot…”

  Lamely, I turned my phone to show her the text.

  She nodded and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, he’s at Parrish Creek. I’ll drive you.”

  Grabbing my purse, I followed behind her as tears fell down my cheeks. And it hit me, it wasn’t a question of whether or not I could be Monica, I already was Monica.

  Chapter 29

  Hudson

  “You can’t tell how good a man or a watermelon is until they get thumped.”

  ~ Loretta Reed

  My head pounded and my mouth felt like I’d been chewing on cotton balls. I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like someone had cemented them shut. I continued my attempts to pry them open as I tried to fill in the blanks of what was going on, and there were a lot of them. Everything in my head was foggy.

  Was I hung over? I didn’t remember drinking.

  Was I at home? I still couldn’t open my eyes, but I didn’t think so.

  What was that noise? It was beeping.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  And a voice.

  “Hud.”

  Someone was calling my name. But they seemed so far away. Or underwater.

  Why would someone call me from underwater? That didn’t m
ake sense.

  “Hud.”

  Okay, that was louder. And it was a female voice.

  “Hud.” There was a loud sniff.

  She was crying.

  “I swear to God, if you die. I’ll kill you.”

  Harmony. Harmony was threatening to kill me if I died. Why?

  It all came back to me in flashes. The bust. The gun. The hostage. Getting shot.

  Shit. I got shot.

  “Hud, please be okay,” Harmony begged.

  I still couldn’t open my eyes, but I managed to say, “I have to, or you’ll kill me.” My voice sounded as hoarse as a hundred-year-old chain smoker.

  “Hud. You’re awake!” I felt hands cup my face and lips that I hoped were hers kiss my forehead, my cheeks, my entire face, which was now damp from her tears. I tried to lift my arm, to touch her, to tell her I was okay, but the searing pain that shot through me wouldn’t let me.

  “Don’t. Don’t move your arm,” she rushed out. “I’ll go get a doctor. Don’t die!”

  With that instruction, she kissed me again and then I heard her yelling that I was awake and for someone to get their asses in here.

  That’s my girl.

  I heard footsteps and the next thing I knew my eyelids were being pried open and a piercingly bright light was blinding me. I flinched.

  “Do you know your name?” the doctor spoke quickly.

  “Hudson Reed.”

  “Officer Reed, do you know where you are?”

  “In a hospital.”

  “Do you know what day it is?” He continued as he pried my right eye open.

  Ummm…

  I’d left Harmony’s house this morning and my parents’ anniversary party was last night so it was… “Sunday.”

  As he moved on to checking my throat, and heart rate, my eyes adjusted to the overhead light and I looked over to see Harmony standing, or actually pacing along the wall.

  Holy shit.

  She looked like she’d just stepped out of the Dukes of Hazzard, which was my favorite show growing up. Nick at Nite was on constant play at my house. Harmony was wearing short shorts that put her legs on display, cowboy boots, and a red tank top, and her hair was flowing over her shoulders. She was the spitting image of Daisy Duke, who I’d had posters of on my walls until I was thirteen.