DIRTY TALKER

by Mira Lyn Kelly

  “Sweet-talker,” I say, relaxing into my seat.

  “Next exit’s in seven miles.” He starts the truck with a wink and heads back toward the highway. “So I’m guessing you’re the girl who always blew the bell curve, huh?”

  I grin, not even trying to hide it. “You know it.”

  Chapter 5

  Wade

  A few hours later, I turn off on Prairie Lane and follow the gravel road back through the trees, passing the first two mailboxes before making a left at the third. The crush of gravel welcomes me even before the trees open up enough to see the house.

  “Dad loves to take care of the yard. And Mom’s got some pride over those flowerbeds. If you want to butter them up, that’s the way to do it.”

  Clicking her tongue, she shoots me a withering glare. “Now I’m going to feel dirty when I compliment them. And for the record, I would have done it on my own.”

  Leaving the joke about feeling dirty untouched, I pull in next to Walt’s Ranger where the drive widens for a turnabout. When I lived at home, he and I shared a beat-up truck that didn’t have privileges in the attached two-car garage, so we parked in the open space on the side.

  It’s empty now, but too much to hope it will stay that way.

  Shit. I’m an asshole for even thinking that.

  When I don’t get out of the truck, Harlow touches my hand. “You sure you want to do this? Lie to your family? It’s not too late to back out. Tell them I broke up with you in the driveway. Honestly, it would be fine.”

  I grin at her. “No way. You’re stuck with me. Unless you need to bail.”

  Please don’t need to bail.

  She huffs a quiet laugh. “No quitter here.”

  “Okay, then.” Wrapping my finger with one of those dark ribbons of silk, I give it a gentle tug. Harlow’s lashes lower and she gives me the kind of coy smile that is some serious grade-A work. “They’re probably already watching out the window. But once I open this door, guaranteed, we’re going to have less than twenty seconds before the Gradys are all over us.”

  Her eyes light. “This is intense.”

  I nod. “So here’s the game plan—”

  “Not a jock here.”

  Maybe not, but she’s got the focus of one.

  “We’ll check into the hotel this afternoon, which gives us some time with the family and then a good excuse to cut out for a break.”

  “Nice. We’ll be able to address any questions that come up in private.”

  Harlow is all about the mission.

  “Or, you know, catch a nap or a few minutes without the familial barrage of questions that’s about to come raining down on you.”

  Yeah, my brother’s the one getting married next week, but having me home for a stretch like this is an opportunity my parents don’t see often. Grace and Bill will not squander it.

  And the fact that I’ve brought a girl along?

  They aren’t going to want to let her go for a second.

  “Will they think it’s weird that we’re just sitting out here?”

  I laugh and lean in, kind of wishing I could kiss her because… Well, because I’m nervous as hell and it would be a really nice distraction. Or it would be if I could forget how completely not interested—not even a little bit—she is.

  Instead, I bring our foreheads together and watch her lips. “This looks like I’m kissing you.”

  Suddenly, she pushes me back with an indignant squawk. “We’re in your parents’ drive, Wade. So I can meet them for the first time. Seriously, there’s no way I’d start making out with you before we go in.”

  Probably not. And then she’s slipping out the passenger side door with a laugh as I reach for her hand, wanting to hold off the inevitable those few seconds more.

  But no dice.

  The front door opens wide and the circus comes pouring out.

  Harlow

  Wade’s mom hits us first, hands shot up in the air, a peppy bounce to her step that hints at her cheerleading roots. And then she’s squeezing Wade’s face and pulling him down into a hug.

  The second she releases him, his father whips a football at him. “Think fast.”

  Wade catches it without a blink and shakes his head as his father closes in to slap his shoulder and pull him in for a one-armed hug. “Still got it, kid.”

  When his dad steps back, he’s got the ball again and drapes an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

  They turn to me, smiles wide, and my heart starts to pound. Because suddenly this isn’t just about me filling my pathetic, empty time off with a crazy challenge that’s all about having some fun. I’m not just helping Wade out with some long-standing girl trouble and communal expectations. I’m lying to his family and friends.

  Why did I think this was a good idea?

  The Gradys seem so sweet. Caring. Invested. Standing together with their warm eyes and smiles that match their son’s, all that’s missing is an apple pie.

  But before the truth comes spewing out in a guilty confession, Wade is there, taking my hand with his.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Harlow Richards. Harlow, these are my parents, Grace and Bill.”

  “Well, aren’t you lovely!” his mom says as I tell them what a pleasure it is to meet them.

  Several introductions follow. I offer to shake hands, get looks like I’m adorable, and then get pulled into one hug after another. Wade’s brother Walt is a slightly younger, shorter version of him with a smile that’s somehow even more mischievous. To hear Wade tell it, Walt is the Enderson equivalent of Nettie—the guy who can’t help becoming everyone’s best friend. His fiancée, Janie, is a tiny thing, all smiles and just as energetic as her soon-to-be mother-in-law. She wants to know if I can teach her to make Indian food, and as much as I wish I knew how, I have to let her down because I can’t even cook it myself.

  We’re all heading into the house when a late model Impala pulls up the drive, passing the truck to park in a spot at the side of the garage.

  Wade shifts behind me, his big hands moving to my shoulders. This has to be her, because not only can I feel the tension coming off him, but the chatter around us has gone quiet.

  There’s a flicker of something in Grace’s eyes as they dart from the car to her son. But then Bill’s stepping between us, a warm smile on his face as he waves toward the blonde climbing out with a paper bag of groceries in each arm.

  “There she is. Wade, grab those groceries for Kelsey. She’s been running herself ragged helping to get everything ready for this week.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Wade presses a quick kiss to the top of my head and then jogs to the car. “Good to see you, Kels. Let me get those.”

  Kelsey takes a big breath, holding it in for a moment as she smiles up at him. “How are you, Wade?”

  It’s just a question, but there’s something about her tone, the quiet delivery—like it’s not for anyone but them—that catches my attention.

  “I’m good, thanks,” he says, leaving an extra few inches of space between them as he takes the bag from her arms. Then when he sees that I’ve followed him over, he smiles and introduces us.

  I slip a finger through one of his belt loops, giving it a tug like I saw Janie do with Walt. “Why don’t you give me that bag and you can grab whatever’s left in the trunk.”

  Wade

  Harlow takes the bag from my arms and starts walking toward the house with my mother. I could have kissed her for real right then.

  I watch, kind of awed as she coos over the flowerbeds like she didn’t just swoop in and stake her claim like a champ.

  After a beat, I swallow and turn to face Kelsey.

  She’s a sweet girl, a friend as close as family since we were fifteen, a permanent fixture in my home from two years after that. I care about her. I do. But the longing in her eyes when she pulled up is the reason behind the dread gnawing at my gut every time I think about coming home.

  She’s not over it.

  She’s still waiting
.

  And Christ, I don’t want to have this conversation again. I don’t want to have to see her tears or hold her hand. And selfish asshole that I am, I don’t want the guilt that goes along with her brave, stricken eyes chewing at me from the inside out every time our paths cross for the duration of our stay.

  “I was surprised when your mom said you were bringing someone to the wedding.” She gives me a smile packed with so much baggage I feel kind of sick. “She’s not in any of your social. This is pretty new?”

  I give her the smile I save for interviews after a loss. The one I don’t fucking mean but gotta sell anyway. “Yes and no. She’s pretty private, so we haven’t been posting.”

  I grab the last couple of bags and Kelsey closes the car up.

  We’re halfway to the house when she stops. “You never bring dates home.”

  The front door is close, but only a dick would keep walking.

  “I guess I don’t.” For a long time, it was because I was trying to be sensitive to Kelsey. Not make things any harder than they had to be. But after all the years, all the conversations laying it out in no uncertain terms—I don’t feel that way about her—it was time for something else.

  “Harlow’s different.” And because I really want this to be the last of the conversation, I add, “She’s special.”

  Kelsey blinks, her next breath drawing her chin higher, spine straighter. Strong, even when it hurts.

  Fuck.

  “I’m happy for you.”

  She’s not. But maybe someday she will be.

  Inside, Dad and I help put the groceries away while my mom waves Harlow and Janie over to the kitchen table, telling them to ignore the mess of tule-trimmed notepads and sparkly binders littering the surface. Walt is on the phone with a couple of the guys he’s got flying in for the bachelor party tomorrow night, and Kelsey’s making tea.

  “We’re so glad you could join us this week, Harlow,” Mom says, taking the eggs from my dad to load into the fridge. “I’ll try not to smother you, but it’s so rare Wade brings anyone home. I’m excited to get to know you.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too.”

  For about the last three hours.

  I close the pantry door and move into the space behind Harlow. “Yeah, but Mom, try not to run her off with seven million questions and some endless tour of photo albums, please.”

  Harlow’s brows pop. “Don’t listen to him. I’m dying to see the albums.” Then, pointing to the spread of wedding madness in front of her, she quickly adds, “But only if there’s time. And please, put me to work for anything you need. I’d love to help.”

  My mom is delighted, but Kelsey lets out a soft laugh, easing into the empty seat beside Janie. Reaching across the table, she pulls the piles closer to her.

  “Oh my goodness, no, Harlow. You’re so sweet to offer, but if the Gradys need anything at all, they know they can count on me.”

  Jesus.

  Walt and Janie exchange a meaningful glance. But I’m not worried.

  Harlow’s not going to have her feelings hurt. She isn’t going to run off.

  And after what I saw in the yard when we arrived, I’m pretty sure she’s going to take Kelsey’s territorial stake as a personal challenge. And rise to it.

  Harlow gives me an adoring smile over her shoulder. “Well, the offer stands. But I suppose there are worse things than having Wade show me around his old stomping grounds.” One slender brow arches up and, cool as can be, she adds in a teasing lilt, “Maybe even a stop out at Gilman’s Ridge?”

  I choke as Mom and Dad let out matching barks of surprise and the blood drains from Kelsey’s face.

  “Dude,” my brother laughs. “Of all the places, you told her about the Ridge? Classy.”

  The hell I told her about the Ridge. I haven’t even thought about Enderson’s infamous make-out point since I graduated from high school and started banging in dorm rooms and then my own place. But I’m guessing my favorite study-bug did a little extra-credit work on her own.

  I can’t wait to hear what else she’s dug up.

  Chapter 6

  Wade

  I take my share of teasing over the next two hours. Kelsey excused herself not too long after we arrived, and I’ve been out back with Walt and Dad, just shooting the shit. Exactly like I’d hoped for. Dad wants to hear more about the endorsement deal I landed and if I’m stretching and keeping fit enough in the off-season. If any of the rumors about Baxter stepping into a coaching role are true.

  For a guy whose heart broke the day I stopped throwing spirals, my dad is behind me in my hockey career one hundred percent.

  Damn, it’s nice to be home.

  But it’s almost four and I want to give Harlow a break this afternoon. Heading in, I find her sitting with my mom and Janie, checking out baby pics, all three of them shoulder to shoulder, talking a mile a minute. The sound of her laughter-laced chatter and coos almost makes me hesitant to go. My mom lifts her head and, catching me behind her, holds up the baby book for me.

  “See how cute you were!”

  “Potty training?” I choke, seeing not just my bare baby ass, but the twig and berries too.

  The smile on Harlow’s face is pure delight as I come around the couch. I take her hand and pull her up and into my side. She’s not quite sure what to do with the fit, but after a beat of holding her arms stiffly at her sides, she eases into it, one arm sliding around my back.

  Her body angles and her tits sort of nestle right up against my ribs.

  It’s not a big deal. It’s just the way we’re standing. Like a couple… even though we aren’t one.

  She didn’t grab my junk.

  Her tongue isn’t in my ear.

  But damn, that soft press of curves feels good, and it takes everything I have not to use my arm to squeeze her in even closer.

  This girl is doing me a favor on the condition I’m a nice guy not out to take advantage of her while she’s isolated here in the middle of freaking nowhere.

  Okay, it’s not quite that extreme, but I’m not going to be a douche.

  So, holding my arm so it’s grazing her shoulders but not pressing in, I clear my throat.

  “We’re going to run over to the hotel to check in and drop our bags. What’s the plan for tonight?”

  Mom tells us to meet back at six because half the town is coming over.

  I haven’t even started the engine before Harlow’s twisted around in her seat, leaning into the space between us, hands clasped in a tight, neat bundle in her lap. “Tell me. That was pretty good, right?”

  She’s adorable.

  “Oh yeah, very good.” Gravel crunches under the tires as I follow the loop out. “And how the hell did you know about the Ridge?”

  She scoffs, sitting back. “Research. If I take on a project, I want to be prepared.”

  “I’m getting that about you.” I steal a glance over, admiring the light in her eyes and the glow of her cheeks. “So it wasn’t too bad?”

  “Not at all. You were right about your parents. They’re easy to like.”

  It shouldn’t matter, but it does. “Glad to hear it.”

  Harlow peppers me with questions for the next few miles into town, about me, about my family. Every time I give her an answer, I see her filing the information away. But this thing only works if it goes both ways. And hell, I just want to know more about her.

  I hit my signal and pull into the drive heading up to the Picket Inn. “Once we get to our room, it’s your turn on the hot seat.”

  I’m expecting some bring it attitude coming back at me, but instead I get a strained, “Our room? There’s just one?”

  Shit.

  The lot’s mostly empty. Parking in a spot close to the lobby, I rub the back of my neck. “I got us two beds. It’s a suite. But—hell, I’m sorry. I guess I figured two rooms wouldn’t really sell the committed serious couple thing and didn’t think to check with you.” I should have.

&nbs
p; She looks out the window, back down to Main Street, and then to the doors in front of us. “Word travels fast around the sports celebrity?”

  I laugh because there’s that subtle emphasis again. From the first night in the club, any time she says it, it’s like there are air quotes around it.

  “Word travels fast about everything around here. But especially Bill and Grace’s sons. My parents are bigger celebrities in this town than I am. Prom king and queen, varsity football and cheerleading coaches.”

  “And you think someone from the hotel might talk if we had separate rooms?”

  No might about it. They’d definitely talk. But it doesn’t matter. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Harlow. I can get another room.” And if, against all odds, they don’t have one, I’ll stay in the truck. I can’t stay back at my house with Kelsey there.

  “No.” It’s like she’s trying it on for size. But then she turns to me, more relaxed. “No way are we going to give up the game on day one. You caught me by surprise, but it’s not like we’re sharing a bed. I’m good.”

  I come around to help her down. “Promise you’ll let me know if that changes?”

  “Promise.”

  She hops out of the truck. Our bags are in the backseat, and when I go for the door, my hand brushes hers as she does the same.

  “Sorry,” we both mutter, then proceed to do the very same thing again.

  She has really soft skin.

  Our eyes meet, a beat passes, and then we both laugh, and hell, it just feels good.

  I shake my head, this time catching her hand on purpose and guiding it away from the door. “Big, strong jock here. Let the ego have a little something, yeah?”

  She rolls her eyes and steps back. “A little something? Ha. I have the feeling your ego is pretty well-fed.”