“I suppose it’s because you’ve always called me Mrs. Kalling when you were knocking on my door trying to see if I’d let you get your soccer ball out of my yard.” Her eyes were wide and the throbbing vein in her neck was probably a dead giveaway about how she felt. But she wasn’t here to protect his feelings. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be no reason at all why she was still here. “I’m going to go.”
“Why?” Ben asked, catching her elbow as she stood. The firm grip made her back stiffen with annoyance. Ben might have grown taller than the last time she’d seen him but there was no doubt in her mind, a swift elbow to his nose would have him hitting the sticky floor. The glare she shot him seemed to make it clear, and he let her go.
“We were going to have a drink, right? Why shouldn’t we?” The protest in his voice was childish, and she could almost hear one of her daughters begging for five more minutes of television before bed.
“Let’s see,” Harlan announced, flopping back down on the bar stool. “The list of reasons seems pretty clear to me. You don’t see anything inappropriate about this?” She made a gesture between the two of them and cocked an eyebrow, challenging him to ignore the obvious.
“I’m an adult. I’m a sophomore in college,” he declared in a way that nearly made her burst out in laughter, as though he’d just proclaimed some kind of victory. He’d lived all these years, and a date with her was practically his right.
“You’re what? Nineteen?” Harlan didn’t hide the giggle that accompanied her question. She couldn’t. This was the perfect culmination of what her life had been the last year. A nightmare. A walking nightmare down a long hallway that seemed to be leading her right to this moment. Because this had to be rock bottom.
“Yes,” Ben said, clearing his throat and deepening his voice. “I’m not a child.”
“You can’t drink,” she scoffed. “We came out for a drink.”
“I have an ID,” he said in a low voice, his eyes shifting nervously from left to right. “Everyone does now. They’re so easy to make.” He stammered as though he was late for curfew.
“I think I better just go,” Harlan repeated. “This night can’t get any worse.”
“But it can get better.” Ben smiled, the playful light returning to his eyes. The boy was putting in some effort. She’d give him that. A younger woman, one who hadn’t been jaded by broken hearts and broken promises, would find his attempts charming. “Let’s drink and hang out,” he pressed. “You never know where this might go. Just give it a chance.”
There was absolutely nothing appealing about sitting across from a man child and trying to find some common topics to chat about. But her drink was still icy cold. There was also the reality of having to face Krissy this early in the night with the horror story. Instead, Harlan would run out the clock until it was a late enough hour to show up at home and still save face.
“Fine,” she shrugged, grabbing the stem of her drink again and tipping the velvety tongue-tingling liquid back in one swig. “But you aren’t drinking. I’m not aiding and abetting a minor.”
“Seriously?”
She gave him a maternal look that made it clear she was very serious.
Ben sheepishly ordered a soda and plopped down on the stool next to her. “So your husband left, huh? I always wondered why you didn’t take his last name. Men don’t like that.” He poked his pointy chin out in that way only an arrogant person who knew nothing of the world could do. “My mother used to say it was because you were a troublemaker.”
“My mother kept her maiden name and I did the same. Both of us were proven right. The men we picked didn’t deserve to change our names, they didn’t deserve to change anything about us.” She waved at the bartender and another drink appeared in front of her.
“How long’s it been?” His tone was too transparent to be coy or layered with sexy undertones. He was flat out asking her how long she’d been alone, how desperate she was.
“Probably around the same time your acne cleared up,” Harlan said from behind the rim of her drink.
“Are you going to be sniping at me all night?” Ben asked, and a pang of remorse shot through her stomach. This kid didn’t really deserve to be on the receiving end of her fury right now. He’d kindly agreed to a blind date. Without really knowing much about her, without knowing what kind of dud of a date he’d get, he still showed up. Maybe that made him admirable. Or maybe he thought it would be an easy score.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m done. I promise. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” She may have been able to rein in her rude comments but it didn’t stop her from having a running dialog of passive-aggressive insults rolling through her brain. As he began to bubble with excitement about the fraternity he’d joined, she pictured his toga and beer funnel. Odds were he was still dragging home a huge bag of laundry for his mother to wash every weekend.
His mother. How in the world would she look Darcy Hemming in the eyes the next time they bumped in to each other at the supermarket?
“Harlan?” a slurred gravelly voice boomed behind her. “I didn’t believe it when I heard it.”
“Rylie?” she gasped, choking on her last sip as she eyed her ex-husband. “What the hell are you doing here?”
His hair was cut entirely different than it had been for all the years they were together. That was all she thought for a moment. He looked like a man trying too hard to seem younger than he was. The cut was too edgy and jagged for his age. Looking foolish, the familiar glaze on his yellowish eyes gave away the fact that he was drunk. Very drunk. There was a scale she used in her head for Rylie’s drinking. When they were younger it was all just fun. They’d both get tipsy. But somewhere along the way, it changed. Drinking wasn’t fun anymore; it was just what he did. It wasn’t Saturday nights; it was Tuesday afternoons. So she’d learned to read his signs clearly. On a scale of one to ten, right now Rylie was an eight. The quick blinking, the sweat gathering on his forehead, the way he licked at his dry lips. He was gone, so very far gone that she wondered how he’d make it home tonight.
“I had people calling me,” Rylie said, flailing his arms animatedly. “I don’t know how much worse you can make all of this. How much more do you need to embarrass me? You’re out with Benny from the house down the street?”
“Keep your voice down,” Harlan demanded. “Who could have possibly called you? No one we know would be here. Have you been following me?”
“Maybe you should get the hell out,” Ben said in his unconvincing deep voice. “She obviously doesn’t want you here.”
“Oh, hell no,” Harlan announced, springing to her feet. “I didn’t think this night could get worse. You two idiots fighting for my honor would top it all. Sit down.”
Ben responded obediently to her stern tone as if she’d just found out he’d broken her window with a stray baseball. Wait . . . that may have actually happened a few years ago.
Redirecting her commands at Rylie, she continued, “You need to go home. Take a cab. Sleep off yet another night of binge drinking and stop following me.” Her clutch was in her hand as she edged away from the bar and stepped back from both of them.
“You’re dating a kid from the neighborhood now? You’re actually that desperate? Didn’t you babysit him at one point?” Rylie’s hands shook as he pointed accusingly at Ben.
“No,” Ben called out, but neither of them was listening to him now. He was the least important person in this room as far as they were concerned.
“You know what?” Harlan asked, tossing her hands up in genuine defeat. “Stay here, enjoy your damn night. Get so drunk you forget your daughter’s birthday again. Get so drunk you bash your head open again on the sink in the bathroom. Because it’s not my problem anymore. I’m out of here.”
“You can’t just go out on the street,” Rylie said, now sounding concerned, though it was still clouded by the slur in his words and the wobble in his step. “It’s a bad area. I’ll walk you to your car.”
/> “Walk another step closer to me and I’ll crack a bar stool over your head,” she promised, her finger pointing threateningly at his face. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be gone when I come out.”
She pushed her way through the gyrating crowd and headed for the back of the club. She’d hide in the bathroom long enough to know they were gone. Or if Ben wasn’t leaving, at least long enough to know he’d moved on to some other shiny object to distract him. She’d be just a funny story to tell his frat brothers at the end of the night. And if she were lucky, which was not a bet she’d take these days, maybe the news of her date wouldn’t travel the grapevine that led back to her mother. Or worse, Ben’s.
Rylie might be more persistent, but the booze would catch up with him sooner or later and he’d be seeing double, so she could skip out. This must be it, she convinced herself. It can’t get any worse.
Chapter 2
The bathroom was not the sanctuary Harlan had hoped for. There was no plush bench in the corner she could collapse onto. It was all broken stall doors and wet surfaces, littered with discarded paper towels. Nonsensical insults and drunk philosophical sayings were scrawled across the yellow tile walls.
Harlan fought the urge to clean. When she was mad nothing worked her adrenaline down like a good dirt scrubbing or chasing away dust bunnies. All it would take is ripping that giant roll of paper towels off the wall, and she could start.
Another half-dressed girl, who looked like she’d been dipped in a vat of glitter, wobbled by and Harlan felt tears begin to gather in her eyes. What if this was it? What if she’d truly peaked, and everything from this point on would be the next disaster she never imagined could exist. Like a building with a hundred stories and she just kept falling through the floors, one painful tumble at a time.
“Are you all right?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind her. Before spinning around she began to spill her guts. A volcano erupting.
“I’m on a date with a kid who used to sell me stuff from the Boy Scouts. And my ex-husband shows up because I’m pretty sure he’s following me around.” Swallowing back the emotions, she felt a small tingle of comfort knowing bonding with a stranger in the bathroom might be the silver lining. Maybe every girl had nights like this.
“Sara-Beth are you all right?” the girl asked again, clearly not talking to Harlan at all. “Don’t pass out in there before you unlock the door,” she called into the stall. “Sara-Beth?” When there was no answer the girl hiked up her little leather skirt and clumsily crawled beneath the small area between the bottom of the stall door and the floor.
Harlan shivered at the thought of how many germs were being mopped up on that girl’s clothes. Or worse, on whoever was in the stall who’d probably passed out face down on the public toilet. She was far too old for this shit. Her first instinct was to call the mothers of all these girls and demand they be kept home until they could make better choices.
“How did I get here?” she breathed out, completely defeated. Closing her eyes, she bit down hard on her lip. Pushing her way out of the bathroom, Harlan gave up giving a damn whether Ben or Rylie had heeded her directive to leave or at least leave her alone. Let either one of them get in her way right now and she’d make them regret it.
“Harlan,” a deep voice rumbled from a solid chest that suddenly blocked her path in the small hallway outside the bathroom.
“What?” she barked, blinking back the shadow of the tears she’d fought off. “Who are you?”
“I’m your security detail,” the man announced, still blocking her from passing. The shadow he cast made the hallway dark.
“No,” she laughed humorously waving him off, but he didn’t move. “I don’t have a security detail because I fired them all. My brothers don’t want to listen to me, but I can take care of myself.”
“They don’t.” The man smiled, nodding his head in agreement, moving his sandy blond hair back and forth. His eyes were a cloudy blue and gray, now fixed on her face. Harlan broke the stare first, flustered by the perfect symmetry of his flawless face.
“You’re fired too,” she said, folding her arms defiantly. “Goodbye.”
“That’s not how this works.” He looked over his broad muscular shoulder as another man approached. With an apologetic clearing of his throat, he gently moved Harlan to the side. Just the touch of his fingertips, warm and strong on her arm, sent a shockwave up her back. A tattoo on his wrist peeked from the edge of his crisp white button-down shirt. A bad boy?
There had been a revolving door of bodyguards assigned to her by her brothers, but she’d found a way to kick each one to the curb. Either paying them off, driving them mad with her stubborn attitude, or losing them so they were deemed unqualified to protect her. Most of them were fools hired for their brute force and stern appearance.
This man however, looked far more model than meathead. As much as she wanted him gone, she wasn’t quite sure she was finished drinking him in either.
“I’m not to let you out of my sight tonight. I intended to continue working outside your view, but unfortunately it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to do that right now.” He was glancing back over his shoulder and checking his watch with an unease that unsettled her.
“How long exactly have you been working outside my view, which, let’s face it, is basically just stalking me.” Control had been something Harlan had clung to for years. When things went wrong, she held tight to the few things she could manage. But now, there seemed to be nothing that was just hers anymore. Not even her privacy. Worst of all, none of it was her own doing. It was her father’s bad business dealings and gambling that had put her and her daughters in danger. It was her husband’s drinking that ruined the dreams she had for her future. Control was a distant memory.
“It’s not stalking,” he bit back, looking insulted, focusing a steady stare on her. “I was hired by your brother Emmitt to protect you in light of the fact that you and your daughters were recently abducted and kept hostage in exchange for your father’s gambling debts. They feel the risk is still substantial.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she shrugged off, though in truth the memory of the ordeal still kept her awake most nights. “Answer my question. How long have you been following me around?” The idea that this gorgeous man was lurking around without her knowing, watching her when she couldn’t watch him, seemed unfair.
“Since about two hours after you fired the last guy,” he explained, his jaw clenching tightly. “I was hired specifically for my ability to stay out of your way. But like I said, that won’t work tonight. I’m sorry for that. I understand you don’t want security. I was trying to give you the illusion of privacy.”
“Gee, thanks,” she huffed, watching the way his face stayed level and unaffected no matter how much attitude she gave him. “What’s so special about tonight? If you’re supposed to be in the shadows, lurking around behind me, go do that until I can get my brother to fire you.”
“I’d like to. But I’m going to have to throw your ex-husband out on his ass. He’s making a lot of noise out there, and it seems as though he intends to make a scene. Maybe worse.”
“I thought you were supposed to protect me from kidnappers who probably couldn’t care less about me, considering the deal my brother made with them. Rylie isn’t a threat. He’s my problem, and I can deal with him.”
“Your problems are my problems as long you are my client. My instructions were to protect you from anything that arises. Anything.”
“I don’t need to be protected from Rylie. If anything he’ll need someone to keep him safe from me. He’s never laid a hand on me. He won’t start now.” Harlan propped her hands on her hips and tried to look bigger than she was, but next to him it was pointless.
“If you could hear him out there,” the man started, a flash of anger like lightning in his eyes. “He needs a reminder on how to talk about a woman. I’m about to give it to him.”
“What’s your name?” she asked, scanning his
face again. He had a scar across his brow that zigzagged, leaving a little patch of bare skin, and another small scar on his forehead, close to his hairline. Harlan usually hated the look of a man with a beard, but this guy’s rebellious unkempt facial hair was perfectly suited to his boxy jaw. If he weren’t in her way, if he weren’t making her feel like a child, she’d probably blush under the heat of his stare.
“Rocky,” he answered in a hushed voice as another patron passed.
“That’s not a name. That’s a movie. What’s your real name? The name I need to give my brothers when I tell them to fire you.”
“My full name is Dallas Rockland. I picked up the name Rocky somewhere along the way. You call me whatever you want.”
“That’s not a blank check you want to write a girl like me. I have a wicked sense of humor.” When his face lit with a small smirk, her chest fluttered.
“I’m not calling you Rocky. As a matter of fact, I don’t plan to call you anything, but to make this formal, Dallas Rockland,” she exaggerated every syllable in his name, “you’re fired. Or you will be, so just go.”
“Again,” he emphasized, still looking unafraid by her threats, “your brother Emmitt has made my orders very clear. I am to protect you, stay out of your way and out of your line of sight, unless a situation arises where I have to step in.”
“What is he paying you? I’ll double it.” Her hand came up to her clutch as though she could pull a wad of money from it, and she arched a challenging brow at him.
“Not possible,” Dallas said, his lips in a tight unwavering line.
“What do you mean not possible? I have money. I can pay double what he’s paying you.” Her voice rose a few octaves as his condescension grew.
“He’s not paying me anything,” Dallas clarified. “I’m paying him back.”
“Your debt is cleared then,” she countered angrily. “Whatever you owed him I’ll pay him, and you can move on.”
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