“As you know, Harrison is on a ‘secret mission.’” She uses her index fingers to draw quotation marks up in the air. “The other two Everhart boys and my sister are out of town.”
“Will there be press, something to cover the news?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure what you think about us, but we’re anti-media.” She pauses, scrunching her nose. “We don’t help to attract attention, just to help. Why, do you deliver those supply bags to the homeless just to get media time?”
Well, she got me there. “I’d be happy to help you,” I say, heading to my room.
I search for some jeans and a shirt. I put on a pair of flat shoes and adjust the bracelet on my ankle. I hear the elevator chiming. Someone must’ve arrived. Running a brush through my hair, I tie it into a bun, grab my small crossbody purse, and join Hazel in the foyer.
When I step closer, I notice she’s not alone. Scott is with her, standing close. The scene seems too intimate. She whispers something to him, and he kisses her lightly on the lips. Are they together? I feel like I’m interrupting a moment. I’m not sure if I should go back to my room to give them space or let them know I’m ready. I choose the second option.
I clear my throat and ask, “Are we ready?”
“Of course, we were just waiting for you,” Hazel answers with a flustered voice.
They step away from each other and she lowers her gaze, dusting off her jeans.
“Luna,” Scott greets me. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hello, Scott. It’s good to see you too.”
Hazel lifts her chin, straightens her shoulders and turns to Scott. “Lead the way, sir.”
The loneliness I felt during my morning run dissipated in the rush of a busy, fulfilling day. We serve for about five hours. Hazel spends her Sundays serving at a soup kitchen. She doesn’t just serve food. She gets to know the people she’s feeding. Every person gets greeted by their name, asked how they’re doing, is offered love to give to any sick family members. She provides clothing, toys, and toiletries for the people who come to eat.
“She’s like Harrison,” Scott says, as we’re in the line, serving food.
“Who?”
“Hazel,” he comments. “They come up a little dry, but underneath their cynical posture they are the most caring people I know.”
That’s exactly how I saw Harrison at the beginning, but he’s so much more.
“Why aren’t they together?”
“They’re like twins. Two positives don’t attract.” He grinned at me. “But I think that you and Harrison could be a hit.”
“No.” I turn my gaze toward Hazel and fire back at him, “Maybe you should be with her.”
He sighs, looking at Hazel who plays with some of the children. “It’s complicated.”
I spend the rest of the day with them. Scott cooks for us. We watch a movie and I call it a night when they propose to watch a second one. I feel like the third wheel. I go to my room and get ready to go to bed. As I’m about to turn off the light, my phone buzzes. I can’t help but smile when I read the text on my screen.
Harrison: Hey, I’ll be there soon. Do you miss me yet?
Luna: Who is this?
I grin, waiting for his response.
Harrison: Silly woman. I heard that you covered for me in the soup line today. How was it?
I laugh at his response, curious about him keeping tabs on me.
Luna: It was interesting. How did you know I was there?
Harrison: I usually contact Scott when I’m back on the grid.
Grid, hmm. I wonder who Tiago contacts when he’s in and out. There’s so little I know about my brother.
Harrison: Maybe we can go together next week.
Luna: I’d love to do it again. Today turned out to be much different than I imagined.
Harrison: Wait until I’m there, we’re going to have fun :wink emoji:
Harrison: I’ll miss you for another day, but I’ll see you soon.
Chapter Fourteen
Luna
“Downward facing dog,” I say with a gentle voice, adjusting the humidity of the room.
Yoga is my outlet. It’s not a hobby, but a way of life. Even though I’ve been practicing it since I was in college, teaching it is new to me. With only a few hours of sleep under my belt and Mr. Crystal-Blue Eyes distracting me, getting through my first class of the day feels impossible. I blame him, stupid Harrison Everhart.
He won’t see the light of a new day if he surprises me again tomorrow. Today, he came holding a matcha green tea and wearing that dazzling smile that makes my heart skip a beat before thudding so hard it feels like my ribs will break. I can’t stop thinking of him during the rest of the day.
He has to stop being all wonderful, caring, and attentive. I need to concentrate on the mission, which should come first. We haven’t sat and discussed it. His flirting advances should be banned.
We need rules.
First rule: he isn’t allowed to drop in at my place of work and say, “I woke up thinking of you,” before giving me a deep, soulful kiss in front of everyone who was going to take my beginners Vinyasa class.
Rule number two: he isn’t allowed to take my classes and wink at me while everyone is watching us. That panty-melting-heart-stopping smirk is forbidden, too—that should be rule number three. Rule number four: keep that eight-pack hidden behind a thick layer of clothing. That means he isn’t allowed to take the class wearing only a pair of shorts.
Rule number five (and probably the most important): Harrison Everhart needs to keep his distance. He might not realize it, but I need his help blending, not earning the animosity of all the women who want him.
I spend the rest of the day moving from one room to the next, teaching Vinyasa for beginners, Bikram, and restoration yoga. I try to stay within the present, as I repeat the phrase over and over during each class, but Harrison’s face keeps popping inside my head every few seconds. I’m just thankful that he didn’t book a Reiki session with me after I got a good glimpse of his perfectly shaped, naked body when he was changing in the locker room. I’d have quit on the spot. There’s no way I could withstand the torture of touching him for thirty minutes.
In the evening, I hightail it to the Reiki room. I have back-to-back appointments. Everyone wants to take my classes or enjoy the healing power of my hands. According to Jess, the owner, people are starting to use the studio’s app to RSVP to all the classes I’m teaching for the next two weeks. She wanted me to add one more at five in the morning. As much as I’d love to get paid seventy-five dollars for that hour, I prefer to sleep.
“You’re incredible. I feel so much better,” my client says as she sits straight up, rotating her neck. I realize I’ve forgotten her name and feel immediately guilty for it. “I’m going to recommend you to my friends.”
Please don’t. I can’t take another round of interrogations while trying to heal you. If this continues, I am going to quit.
Just quit now, Luna. These women might push you too far and you’ll end up snapping their necks.
“Thank you.” I plaster the friendliest smile I can fake on my lips.
“I hope you don’t mind all my questions, but when I heard that you’re dating Harrison Everhart, I couldn’t contain myself. I knew his mother. She was a sweetheart.”
Here we go again. Wait, what? She was? As in no longer existent or they are no longer friends? Now, I’m intrigued.
Do not engage, Luna.
I press stop to the music and wash my hands.
“How serious are you two?”
“It’s new. We just started dating recently,” I answer, responding the same way I did the last seven times I was asked.
“He’s a catch, isn’t he?”
I wipe my hands as I bite my words, Because I’m the catch. Not him. He wishes he could date me in real life.
“I wouldn’t know. This is brand new for the two of us,” I say, trying to sound neutral. I’m not used to strangers being in my
business.
Yet, she continues, “We thought he was going to marry that Beesley girl.”
That Beesley girl will laugh when I tell her that at least ten people mentioned that he was her man.
“Beesley girl?” I yawn, feigning ignorance.
Opening the door, I tilt my head toward the reception area. I turn off the lights and grab my tote bag. She’s my last appointment of the day, thank God. “If you don’t mind paying Jess on your way out, here is my card in case you want to schedule another appointment. My schedule doesn’t allow me to take walk-ins.”
“Oh look, your young man is waiting for you.” She stops right in front of me, looking around, then giving me a coy smile. As if we’re accomplices or best friends. “And he brought you flowers.”
Why is he here?
“Hey,” I say, walking toward him.
“Babe, these are for you,” Harrison greets me, handing me the small, beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. “Ready to go home?”
I reach for the back of his neck with one hand, standing on my tiptoes to press my lips close to his ear. “Call me babe again, and you’ll die, baby.”
Harrison grabs me by the waist, pulling me closer to him. “Ever since I met you, you’ve had nothing but loving words and affection for me.”
He grins, looking around and then looking down at me. “This girl is a keeper.”
Leaning closer to me, he grabs my mouth with his, kissing me.
First slowly.
Like tasting me.
I know I’ve been trying to fight him and the attraction, but I give in to the kiss.
It’s addictive.
Too delicious to let it go.
One kiss isn’t much, is it?
He kisses me deeply for the second time today. My toes curl, my heart hammering against my ribcage as my tongue dances along with his. I rise above the earth, dancing through the clouds. The world spins as the magic of the kiss sinks in. His heartbeats are so strong, so loud that I can hear it inside myself. Or is that me?
I push him away. My stomach tightens as I try to rationalize what just happened between us.
“We have dinner with the family, Luna.” His voice is calm, soft. It caresses my insides and my entire body tenses. The calm, soft cadence of his voice caresses me, making me tense in anticipation. I've never met the family of the guy I’m dating.
He nods at everyone and says, “Have a good evening, ladies.”
Harrison grabs my hand. I hate how much I love the way our fingers fit perfectly together when he takes my hand. Something about him just feels right. When he’s not around, I want him to go away. However, when we’re together. I can’t resist him.
“We need rules, Harrison Everhart,” I speak as we step outside the studio.
“Rules?” He glances, shrugs and pulls me toward the left through the sea of people walking toward Madison Square Garden. “You don’t seem like the kind of woman who likes rules. I swore you’d be more like a ‘go with the flow and let go of what is useless’ kind of woman.”
“You don’t know me,” I rebuke his stupid observation.
I’m not thrilled that without knowing me he can sense how I am. I follow that philosophy, letting things go. In fact, “go with the flow, be the flow, and create the flow” is my mantra. Outside the Bureau I prefer to live a little less organized and a lot more…soulful?
Is that even a word?
In any case, I like to breathe, trust, and live with an open heart. He doesn’t need to know that. In fact, he shouldn’t be analyzing the kind of person that I am.
“We are working together, not”—I glance at him as we continue walking—“Getting to know each other.”
The last sentence doesn’t fit well. Outside of work, I embrace new people. Like I did with Hazel and Scott. I hate superficial relationships, but I can tell that this man is a heartache waiting to happen. Wait, why am I going from getting to know him to crushing my heart? I stare at our linked hands. Is it the electricity we produce every time we touch that’s making me act like a teenager with a crush?
As if he feels that I’m studying him, he looks down at me and winks at me. When we stop at the light, he says, “It’s one and the same. We are partners in crime. Partner 101, you have to trust your companion, blindly. For that to happen, I have to get to know you.”
“Rules,” I insist. “We need rules.”
He frowns, exhales, and we resume our walk.
Is he against rules?
He was a Ranger.
Aren’t they programmed to follow procedure?
Dad lives by rules. He should be the same. It’s a lot easier to handle someone like my father than a man who keeps me guessing, like Harrison Everhart.
I almost lose my breath when I hear him say, “Why do we need rules?”
I can find many reasons. I respond with all honesty, “You fluster me.”
“Define flustered. Do I excite you?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Or do I frustrate you?”
“Frustrating.” I lie.
I won’t tell him that he excites me or that I want to spend more time with him. That I find his full lips surrounded by a stubble sexy.
Then, I say with disdain, “There’s nothing exciting about you.”
His lip twitches. My focus moves in his direction. His blue bedroom eyes look at me briefly. I chew my cheek because this guy doesn’t take just one answer. He digs deeper. The cocky guy dares to say, “That’s because you forgot how good we are together—or you’re lying.” he winks at me.
“We’re not good. You’re too arrogant for your own good.”
He leans closer, even while we continue walking and with a gravelly voice he says, “In a couple of days, you’ll be ready to choose me over Disney World. And remember what they say, ‘It’s the happiest place on Earth.’”
That’s what he thinks, but that’s not going to happen. I just need to clear my head and focus on my mission. In a couple of days, I’ll be saying, ‘Harrison who?’
Chapter Fifteen
Harrison
Today has been unusual.
Erase that. Every day since I met Luna has been different to say the least. After a mission, I usually do one of two things, check on my brothers or take a nap that lasts at least a day so I can recover my physical and mental energy. Not today though.
Today I went for option number three. I assumed my brothers were fine since neither one of them sent me a text telling me they were in the hospital—or needed me to bail them out of jail. My bed could wait. It was more important to see Luna after spending two weeks in Belarus searching for a hacker who tried to infiltrate The Pentagon.
In my head it made sense. I don’t regret it. Luna doesn’t sound happy about my two impromptu visits to the studio. I, on the other hand, I’m just thankful to see her gorgeous face. A face that’s slightly flushed. I’m not sure if it’s from work or because I fluster the fuck out of her. That's probably why for the last six blocks she insists on having rules.
At least, she agreed that I flustered her. Still, it doesn’t make sense as to why we have to set rules. During a mission we have protocols, but rules…that’s not what we have. However, I want her to feel comfortable around me.
“So, these rules,” I try to go back to the initial conversation since speaking about how much I frustrate her might not be the best move. “What kind of rules are we talking about?”
I like how her eyes brighten at the same time that her nostrils flare.
“What did I say wrong?”
“I’m suspicious about you,” she warns me as we continue walking. “Why are you suddenly agreeing?”
“Oh no. I haven’t agreed. I’m just curious about these”—I pause, clear my throat for dramatic effect—“rules.”
She groans.
I laugh.
“Dinner?” I ask.
“Not with you.”
“Actually, we’re having dinner with the family. You can text Hazel to confirm,” I offer.
That reminds me that I am in charge of dinner tonight. I pull out my phone to confirm that sushi is okay with everyone.
Harrison: Sushi?
Hazel: It’s not Sunday. You’re ruining Sushi Sunday.
Hunter: Yes to sushi.
Fitz: I can go for sushi. Stop designating food for every day of the week, Hazel. I hate French Friday.
Hazel: You hated the escargot. I promised not to cook them.
Fitz: You shouldn’t cook, period.
Scott: Sushi is fine.
Harrison: Perfect, just text the order. I’m almost there.
The group chat continues buzzing, but I ignore it. The majority agrees on eating that for dinner. Unless Luna doesn’t like it, that’s what we’re having tonight.
“Do you like sushi?” I ask as we get closer to Kurosawa, the Asian bistro close to Hazel’s place. She nods. “Then we can have some Sake and a long chat about your plans during your time in New York City.”
“My plans?” She shoots me a glare and shakes her head. “Rules, we need ground rules. For starters, you aren’t allowed to drop by the yoga studio.”
“I never got a thank you for the flowers,” I say ignoring her first rule. I subscribe to the studio. Also, I want to see her again.
I open the door of the restaurant and bow to her. “After you, my lady.”
She smells the flowers I gave her earlier, angles her face toward me, and smiles. “Thank you, they’re pretty.”
“You’re welcome. I’d like to point out that you’re more beautiful.” I kiss the tip of her nose and walk to the counter.
She laughs, shaking her head. “You come up with the funniest pick-up lines,” her tone is light. “So where do you get them? Cheesy Pick-Up Lines for Dummies? or How to Impress Your Girl for Sixth Graders?”
“I take it you’re not amused by my approach.” Or that my approach is making you uncomfortable because it’s working.
I take her hand and kiss it lightly.
“It’s entertaining,” she admits, and just when I feel like I’m winning, she crushes me with the reminder that she’s all business. “Though, I’m here to work.”
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