Harlan looked down at himself. His jeans were stained and torn, his boots still caked with mud. His tee shirt had mud on it, and his hands were still dirty. What the hell was he doing, bringing that shit into his sister's life? She'd made it out of the hell that their mother had started them in. She'd gotten what she wanted and deserved. She was all set.
She didn't need Harlan's protection anymore, which meant his job with her was done. There was no need for him to bug her, or to inject himself into her life. He realized he'd been a fool to come back here. He didn't belong in this world. He belonged in a world where a man died alone on the bank of a river, with nothing but angels and demons around him, warring for his soul.
He was just starting to turn away when he heard a shout from the back of the room. He looked sharply as he saw Eppie Orlowe emerge from what looked like the kitchen, carrying a flaming dessert of some sort. She shot a grin at the back corner.
Harlan followed her gaze, and then he saw her. Emma Larson. His breath caught at the sight of her, hungrily drinking her in. Her face was drawn and haunted, her cheeks too hollow. Protectiveness surged through him and he gripped the window frame. What was wrong with her? Her hair, that gorgeous blond hair, was curling around her neck, softening her face, but the shadows were still in her eyes.
Two years ago, he'd been there the first day she'd walked into Wright's General Store after being away for half a decade. Everyone in the store had leapt up, welcoming her back to town, but he'd seen the depth of suffering in those green eyes, and he'd seen the effort it had taken for her to graciously accept all the attention. But gracious she'd been, reaching out with warmth to all, despite the weight in her soul. She had been haunted by something, and even now she still carried it with her. Harlan saw her grief, he felt her struggle. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that someone understood, but she'd never looked in his direction.
Of course she wouldn't. Emma Larson was purity at its best. Her smile was always kind. She was always there with a hug for anyone who needed it. She had a softness, a vulnerability to her spirit that called to Harlan, that made him want to get down on his knees and beg her to share it with him, to show him what it was like to have one minute, one second, of that kind of beauty in his life.
Not that he'd ever do it. He would never contaminate Emma with who he was. Ever.
Then a man, a tall, big man walked over to her, carrying a glass of champagne. Emma started with obvious nervousness, and Harlan fisted his hands, moving closer to the window. Who was he? What was he doing with Emma? The man was too strong, too dangerous for Emma. He'd crush her. What the hell? Why wasn't anyone in there looking out for her?
Harlan glanced around the room. Astrid was still engaged with Jason and the kid. Clare was talking to Eppie. No one was watching out for Emma. Shit. It was up to Harlan to go in there and run interference for her—
He looked back at her, but she was gone.
Harlan stopped, his hand halfway to the doorknob. Emma was no longer in the living room. The behemoth who'd been bugging her was still there, now being cornered by Eppie. Where was Emma?
Harlan dropped his hand from the doorknob, a sudden sense of loss assaulting him at the disappearance of Emma. Shit. What had he been thinking, rushing in there like some ass to save a damsel in distress, who clearly was capable of extricating herself from a situation she didn't like?
He had no role here. He was done. It was time to go back to his life.
***
Emma hurried down the back steps of Astrid's house, desperate to get away from the party. She could barely breathe, and her chest hurt. She just needed a minute to regroup, to find her space. Ditching her sandals by the pot of pink geraniums at the foot of the deck stairs, she jogged down the cobblestone path toward the lake and into the merciful silence of nature.
Clouds were thick in the sky, blocking the moon. The lake and the woods were dark, swallowing up light and life, like a soothing blanket of nothingness coating the night. She needed to get away from the world she didn't belong to, the one that had no place for her. Tears were thick in her throat, her eyes stinging as she ran. The stones were wet from the rain earlier in the day, and the cool dampness sent chills through her.
She reached the dock and leapt out on the damp wood. Her foot slipped, and she yelped as she lost her balance—
Strong hands shot out and grabbed her around the waist, catching her before she fell into the water. Shrieking in surprise, she jerked free, twisting out of range. The evasive move sent her off balance again, her feet went out from under her, and she was falling—
And again, someone grabbed her. "Hey," a low voice said. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Emma froze at the sound of the voice she knew so well, the one that had haunted her for so many sleepless nights. The voice she thought she'd never hear again, because he'd been gone for so long. "Harlan?"
"Yeah."
Emma spun around in his grasp, and her breath caught as she saw his shadowed face. His eyes were dark and hooded in the filtered light, his cheekbones more prominent than they had been the last time she'd seen him. Heavy stubble framed his face, and his hair was long and ragged around the base of his neck. He was leaner than she remembered, but his muscles were more defined, straining at his tee shirt. He looked grungy and real, a man who lived by the earth every day of his life. He exuded pure strength and a raw appeal that ignited something deep within her. She instinctively leaned toward him, into the strength that emanated from him. His hands felt hot and invasive where they clasped her hips, but she had no urge to push him away.
Damn him. After not seeing him for a year, he still affected her beyond reason.
"You're back," she managed.
"Yeah."
Again, the one word answer. He had never said much more than that to her, but she'd seen him watching her intently on countless occasions, his piercing blue eyes roiling with so much unspoken emotion and turbulence. She managed a smile, trying to hide the intensity of her reaction to seeing him. "Astrid didn't mention you would be here."
"She doesn't know." Again, he fell silent, but he raised one hand and lifted a lock of her hair, thumbing it gently. "Like silk," he said softly. "Just as I always thought it would feel."
Her heart began to pound now. There was no way to stop it, not when she was so close to him, not when she could feel his hands on her, a touch she'd craved since the first time she'd seen him. It had been two years ago, the day she'd walked back into her life in Birch Crossing. He had been leaning against the deli counter in Wright's, his arms folded over his chest, his blue eyes watching so intently.
And now he was here, in these woods, holding onto her.
His grip was strong, but his touch was gentle in her hair as he filtered the strands through his fingers. "You've thought about my hair before?" she asked. Ridiculous question, but it tumbled out anyway. And she wanted to know. Had he really thought about her before? Was she not alone in the way her mind had wandered to him so many nights when she hadn't been able to sleep?
His gaze met hers, and for a second, heat seemed to explode between them. Then he dropped his hands from her and stepped back. The loss of his touch was like ice cold water drenching her, and she had to hug herself to keep from reaching out for him.
"Tell Astrid I was here," he said. "I'm leaving again—"
"What?" She couldn't hold back the protest. "Already? Why?"
"I have a job."
That job. That mysterious job. He had never told Astrid, or anyone else in town, where he went when he disappeared. Sometimes, he was in town for months, playing at his real estate business, taking off for only a few days at a time. Other times, he was absent for longer. This last time, he'd been gone for almost a year, which was the longest that anyone could remember him being out of town. And he was leaving again already? "Astrid misses you," Emma said quickly, instinctively trying to give him a reason not to disappear again. "You can't leave without saying hi."
Harlan's ga
ze flicked to the house, and his mouth tightened. He made no move to join the celebration, and suddenly she realized that he felt the same way she did about invading that happy little world. He didn't belong to it any more than she did. Empathy tightened her chest, and she looked more carefully at the independent man that no one in town had ever been able to get close to. "You can stop by and see her tomorrow," she said softly.
He didn't move, and he didn't take his eyes off the house. "She's happy? Jason's good to her?"
Emma nodded. "He treasures her. They're so in love." She couldn't quite keep the ache out of her voice, and she saw Harlan look sharply at her.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Why did you say it like that?"
"No, no, they're great. Really." She swallowed and pulled back her shoulders, refusing to let herself yearn for that which she did not want or need in her life. "She would kill me if she found out I let you leave town without seeing her. How long do you have until you have to go?"
He shifted. "Forty-eight hours." The confession was reluctant, as if he hadn't wanted to reveal it.
"So, then, come back here tomorrow and see her," she said, relief rushing through her at the thought he wasn't leaving town immediately. For at least two nights, she could sleep knowing that he was breathing the same air as she was.
"No, not here." He ran his hand through his hair, and she saw a dark bruise on the underside of his triceps. "You guys still go to Wright's in the morning for coffee?"
Emma's heart fluttered at his question. For a man who had held himself aloof, he seemed endearingly aware of what his sister did every day...and he knew that she was always there as well. "Yes. We'll be there at eight thirty."
He nodded. "Yeah, okay, I'll try to make it then." He glanced at her again, and just like before, heat seemed to rush through her—
Then he turned away, stealing that warmth from her before she'd had time to finish savoring it. "No." She grabbed his arm, her fingers sliding over his hard muscles. Shocked by the feel of his body, she jerked her hand back, but not soon enough.
He froze under her touch, sucking in his breath. Slowly, he turned his head to look back at her. "No?"
"Don't try to make it tomorrow morning," she said quickly, trying to pretend her panic had been on Astrid's behalf, not her own. "You have to make it. Astrid needs to see you. She wants you to meet Rosie. She's happy, Harlan, but she needs her brother, too. Jason is her family, but so are you, and you know how she needs to be connected."
Harlan closed his eyes for a long moment, and she saw emotions warring within him. For a man so stoic and aloof, he was fermenting with emotions in a way that she'd never seen before. She looked again at the bruise on his arm. "Are you okay, Harlan? What happened while you were gone?" There was no way to keep the concern out of her voice, no way to hide that her heart ached at the thought of him being hurt.
His eyes opened again. He said nothing, but he suddenly wrapped his hand around the back of her neck.
She stiffened, her heart pounding as he drew her close to him. "What are you doing?"
"I need this." Then he captured her mouth with his.
She had no time to be afraid, no time to fear. His kiss was too desperate for her to be afraid. It wasn't a kiss to seduce or dominate. It was a burning, aching need for connection, for humanity, for something to chase away the darkness haunting him...everything she needed in a kiss as well.
Her hands went to his chest, bracing, protecting, but at the same time, connecting. She kissed him back, needing the same touch that he did, desperate for that feeling of being wanted. She didn't know this man, and yet, on some levels, she'd known him for so long. She'd seen his torment, she'd felt his isolation, and she'd witnessed his unfailing need to protect Astrid, even if he had never inserted himself fully into her life.
Somehow, Harlan's kiss wasn't a threat the way other men's were. He was leaving town, so he was no more than a shadow that would ease into her life and then disappear. He wouldn't try to take her, to trick her, to consume her. He wouldn't make promises and then betray them. All he wanted was the same thing she did, a break from the isolation that locked him down, a fragile whisper of human connection to fill the gaping hole in his heart.
"Emma!" Astrid's voice rang out in the night, shattering the moment. "Are you out here?"
Harlan broke the kiss, but he didn't move away, keeping his lips against hers. One of his hands was tangled lightly in her hair, the other was locked around her waist. Somehow, he'd pulled them together, until her breasts were against his chest, their bodies melted together. It felt so right, but at the same time, a familiar anxiety began to build inside Emma at the intimacy.
"Do not fear me, sweet Emma," Harlan whispered against her lips. "I would only treasure what you give."
His voice was so soft and tender that her throat tightened. How she'd yearned for so many years, for a lifetime, for someone to speak to her like that…until she'd finally become smart enough to relinquish that dream. And now, here it was, in the form of a man who would disappear from her life in forty-eight hours, maybe never to return. Which was why it was okay, because she didn't have to worry that he would want more than she could give, or that she would give him more than she could afford. Maybe she didn't belong in the room of couples and families, but for this brief moment, she belonged out in the night, with a man who lived the same existence that she did.
"Emma?" Astrid's footsteps sounded on the deck, and Harlan released her.
"Don't tell her I was here," he said. "I'll come by Wright's in the morning. Now is not the time." Then, without a sound, he faded into the darkness, vanishing so quickly she almost wondered if she'd imagined him.
"Emma!"
"I'm on the dock," Emma called out. She ran her fingers over her lips, and then hurried up the path, heading toward the party that had driven her out only moments earlier. But as she emerged from the shadows and waved to Astrid, she didn't feel quite as desolate as she had before, her mouth still tingling from the first kiss she'd had in a very long time.
Harlan Shea was back in town. For forty-eight hours. No longer.
She wasn't ready for a man. She wasn't ready to date. She wouldn't ever be ready for a man again, but Harlan wasn't going to stay around long enough to threaten her. He'd kissed her in a moment when they'd both needed it.
That was all.
Nothing more.
But as she hurried up the steps to head back to her party, she couldn't help but think about the fact she was going to see him in the morning. Nerves assaulted her at the idea of seeing him again, and she stumbled on the top step. The man was leaving town. There was no reason to clutter her memories of that kiss with an awkward morning after. Maybe she would skip out on the coffee.
No. She wasn't that pathetic. The man had kissed her, a kiss that had been so beautiful she'd forgotten to be afraid. There was no way she was going to miss the chance to see him in the morning.
Absolutely no way.
Chapter Three
At eight twenty-five the next morning, Harlan was leaning on the hood of his truck, watching people go in and out of Wright's General Store, a classic old building with white boards, green shutters, and a rambling front porch. Many of the patrons were people he knew, but there was also a large segment of unknowns. Their nice cars and well-matched outfits told him they were summer folk, here to steal time with nature and hand over their dollars to the locals.
He'd parked across the street, keeping his truck out of sight of the windows in case Astrid was sitting by them, not wanting to be drawn into the reunion before he was ready. He'd pulled his black cap low over his head, and he knew that his overgrown hair and beard would hide him well. Usually, coming back to Birch Crossing was a relief, a welcome respite, but today he felt restless and unsettled, not ready to walk in there and be assaulted by twenty townspeople wanting to know where he'd been for the last year.
Last night at Astrid's had made him realize he didn't fit in here anymore, if he ever had.
And then... Emma... For the hundredth time, he replayed that kiss in his mind. Why had he kissed her? He'd fantasized about it often since the day he'd first seen her, but he'd never even considered approaching her.
But last night, when she'd been so close, her troubled green eyes staring up at him with such emotion, he'd been lost. He'd been utterly consumed by her gaze. He'd come back to town for Astrid, but after that kiss, he didn't want it to be Astrid who would notice when he died.
He wanted it to be Emma.
Hell. That was a damned dangerous way to be thinking. He wasn't doing that, he wasn't going to pretend he could play this game anymore. He needed to get out of town—
"Harlan?"
Swearing, he looked up. Walking toward him was Jackson Reed, one of the few men in town that he could call a friend. Jackson broke into a huge grin. "Hey, man, it's been too damn long. Good to see you."
Harlan relaxed and grinned, the familiar face restoring his ease. Jackson was a good guy, a man with enough shadows in his past not to be bothered by Harlan's reclusiveness. He suspected, on some level neither of them mentioned, they got each other. "Yeah, it's good to be back."
"You going in for coffee?" Jackson asked.
Harlan glanced at the store, and sudden resolution filled him. He could talk to Astrid for five minutes to reassure himself that she really was in a good place, and then say good-bye, releasing her from any obligation to worry about him. Then, he would be cleared to move on and stop fixating on her, this town…and Emma. He needed to cut his ties and get out. He leveraged himself off the car. "Yeah, you?"
"You bet. Can't start the morning without some Wright's coffee."
He fell in beside Jackson as the other man headed up the steps to Wright's. Last time he'd been in town, Jackson's wife had been pregnant. "How's Trish? The baby?"
Jackson beamed at him. "I haven't slept through the night in eight months, but I gotta admit that it's been the best damn time of my life."
Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) Page 3