Trick (19 page)

“Get out,” I growl.

Ryker finishes off his drink and backs out of the kitchen. “Chill, I’m going. I don’t mean any harm by that, brother. Don’t come and beat my ass, too. I’m just looking out for you.”

“You’re the last person I need looking out for me.”

“Oh, and Gunner,” he says. “You’d think owning a bar you could at least keep decent booze in your house. That gin tastes like shit.”

“Get the fuck out, Ryker.”

I grip the neck of the bottle as I wait for the sound of my front door slamming shut and the roar of Ryker’s bike down my long gravel driveway. I want to toss the bottle through the china cabinet on the other side of the kitchen just to watch the glass fly.

I hate my brother.

I hate that douche at the bar.

And I fucking hate myself. I spent so long trying to convince Harlow that I was anything but good enough for her, to try to push her away. And tonight, now that I’ve finally succeeded in doing it—now that I’ve seen the look of disgust and distrust in Harlow’s eyes—all I want to do is take it all back.

***

“What’ll it be?” I ask.

I do a double take, because the girl sitting at my bar looks damn familiar, but I can’t place from where. My mind is racing hoping to god I didn’t fuck her over somehow and she’s here to exact her revenge. I can’t take
any more women pissed off at me.

It’s been a week since I’ve heard from Harlow.

I admit, I haven’t called her. I’m trying to give her her space. It’s been a week of torturous nights in this bar, glancing up every time the door opens to see if it’s her. Nights alone at home, wishing she was under me in my bed.

“A L
emon Gingertini,” the dark-haired girl says. She curls her hands neatly under her chin and watches me mix the ginger syrup. “Oh, could you go light on the ice, too?”

“Sure thing,” I say. Damn, I can’t place her face.

“And make sure to add a slice of ‘I’ll kick your ass myself if you fuck over my best friend again’?” Her sweet voice changes to venom-laced.

My eyes dart up. “Daisy, I’m guessing?”

I should have guessed Harlow’s friend would show up here soon. Girls are weird like that. Fiercely protective to some, ready to stab you in the back with others. Daisy must be a true friend to Harlow to be sitting here. I respect that. Harlow needs and deserves it.

“Gunner Hunt. I knew it was a mistake to tell Harlow that I saw you in here. She was doing just fine without you, but stupid me and my best friend duties. I ran home and told her, hoping you wouldn’t make an ass out of yourself and make her life hard again. But you did. And do you know who pays the price for that?” She points a manicured finger at herself. “Me.”

“Excuse me?” I slide her drink toward her.

She takes a long sip and shakes her head. “You made me look bad, here. You hurt her, and it’s all because I told her where you were. If I didn’t do that, she’d be just fine right now. Not crying her damn eyes out over how wrong she was about you. So, thanks for that.”

She opens her purse to pay for the drink, I’m assuming.

“Don’t, please, it’s on the house,” I say.

“Damn right it is. It’s the least you could do,” Daisy scoffs and puts her purse down. “You may be the sexiest thing in town—apart from me that is,” Daisy says with a wicked grin. “But Harlow deserves someone who respects her, Gunner. She deserves someone who wants to take care of her—”

“I do. I do want to take care of her,” I say.

I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life.

Daisy slams the glass on the bar. “Right. You call it taking care of, I call it grounds for a restraining order. We aren’t kids anymore, Gunner. Grown men throwing punches every time someone looks at their girl? So high school. Get over yourself. Harlow is hot as hell and she deserves to be looked at.”

“I was just trying to protect her.” I hold the edge of the bar to keep steady, remembering the crazy way that night spiraled out of control.
“I think you need to reevaluate what you think Harlow actually needs from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daisy twirls her straw in her drink. “Do you ever ask yourself what Harlow sees in you?”

“Every damn day,” I say, truthfully.

“And what is it that you see in her? I mean, apart from the obvious.”

I think back to the first time I realized I couldn’t be without Harlow. The day I got that damn tattoo. Harlow had gone to New York for some dance thing for a week. It was a single week, but it was pure torture. Every day without her around stretched out into eternity. I knew that once she came back, I never wanted to be away from her again. I wanted a life with Harlow in it.

I wanted that big ass heart and that laugh that bounced off the walls, so much bigger than she was. I wanted those soft hands running through my hair while we watched movies on her bed. I wanted the rush of her running out of her dad’s house and into my arms after everyone had gone to sleep. I wanted it all.

Forever.

It was the first time I’d considered a future at all—not just with a girl, but any kind of meaningful future. Harlow made me feel all of those things. So the night before she got back to town, I went and marked myself with her name.

“That’s kind of personal,” I mumble, unsure how to articulate all of those feelings to Daisy.

Daisy considers this. “That’s fair. But Harlow is tougher than you give her credit for, Gunner. She’ll forgive you. You know she will. She loves you something fierce.”

“What should I do? I haven’t heard from her in days. I don’t want to call and upset her. I’m fucking dying without her, though.” I can hear the pleading in my voice, but I don’t give a damn about my pride.

Daisy raises one eyebrow, her pretty eyes sparkling at me. “I think you have two choices here, Gunner. You can decide that you aren’t good enough for Harlow, because, you seem pretty convinced of that. You can walk away from her, break her heart again.”

I shake my head. I’d do anything not to trash her world like that again. “What’s the second option?”

Daisy sets her glass onto the bar top, and leans in. “You can man the fuck up and
learn
to be good enough for her.”

***

“I wasn’t sure when I was going to hear from you again,” Harlow says. She bites on her bottom lip as she stands in my doorway, looking like a damn angel in her white cotton dress, all her blonde hair pulled back away from her face.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I say. I lead her into the old farmhouse, through the living room, and into the kitchen where I’ve got a whole spread of food.

“Daisy convinced me it was a good idea,” she says with a casual shrug that guts me. “What’s all this?”

“An apology.” I stick my hands deep in my pockets to avoid touching her before she’s ready.

“Wow. This looks like a lot of trouble.” Harlow peers into the room but doesn’t walk in just yet.

“You’re worth it.”

I see her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t look at me or acknowledge what I said.

“What have you got here?” she walks to the table and examines the dishes.

“There’s some corn fritters, and fried chicken. Over there
are the stuffed mushrooms and some shrimp. I know you love shrimp.”

“I do,” Harlow confirms, trailing her fingers over the white cloth. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

I shrug. “Well, I figured if you actually showed up, I wanted to make sure you stayed a while. We’ve got enough food to last till 2030. Besides—I’ll be honest—you know I didn’t make any of it. I wish I did, but then you definitely wouldn’t stick around.” I crack a smile and am so damn happy to see the start of one on Harlow’s face, too.

“Is that—”

I follow her eyes to the thick, frosted cake on the center of the island. “Hummingbird cake.”

“Gunner, that’s my all-time favorite. My mama used to make it for me to cheer me up.” She walks to the cake and runs her finger through the icing, then closes her eyes as she licks the white frosting off. Savoring it. I can’t help but stare at that gorgeous mouth. “So good.”

“I knew that, you know. That you love that cake, I mean. You told me once.”

Harlow nods, like she remembers that moment out on the lake. That first time I saw her cry. It was her eighteenth birthday and should have been a huge celebration—and it was. Her father made sure of it. Renting out the whole damn country club for his little girl. Filling it with people she didn’t know, and didn’t much care to know—because on a milestone birthday like that, all Harlow wanted was her mama there.

She ran out of the party, leaving a pile of guests. I’d never been more proud of her. I chased her down the hill to the lake, held her as she cried, told her how brave she was for leaving the party like she did. She told me stories about her mama, told me the things she missed about her most, the things that used to make her so mad that she wished she could take back.

I’d never been there for someone before like I was for Harlow that day, and it felt pretty damn good to be needed for once.

“I’m sorry I don’t do a better job of showing you that I care about what you say. That I care about you Harlow. Because I do.” The words come out slowly, cautiously.

She
smooth’s her dress down. “I know that.”

I step toward her, taking my time. I want to do this right, slow, but god I’ve missed her the last couple of weeks. I took Daisy’s advice to heart, and that meant I had a lot of work to do. Harlow and I didn’t cease all contact in that time. We texted back and forth here and there, but nothing major. I was really trying to give her her space.

I hope it was a good decision.

“I’m so damn sorry, Harlow.”

I take the last step toward her, closing the remaining space between us. I reach for her chin and tip it up toward me. She wets her lips with her tongue.

“I’m dying to kiss you,” I say. I don’t mention what else I’m dying to do. I’m supposed to be taking it one step at a time. But I know, deep down, if she lets me have just a taste, I’ll never be able to stop.

“Please,” she whispers.

It’s all the permission I need to wrap her tiny body in my arms and pull her to me. Her mouth finds mine and she’s just as hungry as I am. I kiss her so hard that we walk right past the table full of food, and our momentum drives us into a wall. I slam back into it and turn her around, pressing her up and against it, my hands on the full swells of her tits, my mouth working along her neck and her ears, my hips pressed tight against hers.

“Damnit, baby, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the minute you walked out of my bar.” I kiss down her neck, but her tiny hands bat at my chest. When I pull back, those blue eyes are looking through me, right to my black heart.

“You know, I walked out of the bar for a good reason, Gunner.” She crosses her arms, making a tiny barrier between the two of us.

“I know that. Part of me wants to tell you that you should walk out of here too.” I watch her bite her lip and lower her lashes, and I rush to continue. “Before I screwed things up three years back, Daniels took me aside and basically asked me why I didn’t man up if I cared about you. It bugged me for years. The other day, Daisy came by and asked me the exact same question.”

“So, what’s the answer?” she asks, her back plastered to the wall, her chest rising and falling with her quick breaths.

“The answer is, I want to be a better man for you, Harlow Mills. I want to be the man you deserve. And, I gotta tell you, that’s scary as fuck for a guy who’s spent his life trying not to prove to himself and everyone he cares about that he just doesn’t give a damn.” I press a light curl behind her ear.

“Why?” she murmurs. “Why is it so scary?”

“Because what if I try for you and fail, Harlow? What if I fuck up in a way you can’t forgive? If I put everything I have into this and still come up short, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” I run my fingers over her shoulders, loosen her arms, and hold her hands, rubbing my thumbs over her knuckles.

“You will never come up short for me, Gunner,” she whispers, her voice fierce. “Never. You hear me? I’ve had the biggest soft spot for you from the day you met. No matter what you do, not matter what mistakes you make, you can know that I’ll stand by your side. I’ll be there for you.”

No one—not a single person—has ever believed in me the way Harlow does. She should have left me for good a dozen times over things I screwed up just in the last few weeks. But she never does.

That’s a love that I need to earn, because it’s a love a man can’t live his life without.

But, right now, I just need to feel her, to be with her, to know without a doubt that I didn’t lose her. She’s said the words, but my body needs to know.

My blood surges and my mouth finds hers. I lick and suck and kiss like a man gone wild. My hands tug at her little dress until it puddles to the floor, I tear her panties down and sink to my knees, her legs spread in front of me. All she has on is her tiny bra, pink lace that lets her nipples poke through the fabric.

I push her against the wall and pry her legs open, licking at her with a few quick laps, loving the cries that burst from her lips. I dig my fingers into her hips, holding her steady while I feast on her. “I’ve missed the taste of this pussy. Open those legs wider.”