PRIDE: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch#1) (45 page)

“
C
heers
,” said George as he tapped his scotch glass against Harrison’s. They nodded at each other and had a hearty drink. George handed his glass back to the caddy at his side, who traded him for a driver.

“Cheers,” repeated Harrison, as he took another swig. Scotch was not his favorite poison, but it was George’s and so of course that’s what was brought out onto the course with them. As long as it would get him buzzed enough to keep him calm, Harrison couldn’t really complain.

All of the Moore resorts included world-class golf facilities, and if they didn’t when he bought them, George Moore had them built. Golf was his only hobby, and even then, calling it a hobby was a misnomer when so much business, networking, and general hob-knobbing was done on the green. It was basically a second board room, only one much more attractive and tantalizing than the traditional kind.

Harrison didn’t care for the sport at all, but he knew his father, and knew there would be no getting out of a round while he was visiting. Fortunately, the Moore family line included a bit of inborn talent, and Harrison was smart enough to get to the driving range often enough to supplement it so that he would not embarrass himself if he ever went out on the links. He hated every minute of it, but it had to be done. Sometimes Bruce came along with a stack of joints to make it easier, and he was wishing for that now.

As if he was reading his son’s mind, George made his swing and turned to say, “I suppose you’ll be polishing your game to finally be competitive now, won’t you?”

“How’s that?” asked Harrison from the golf cart.

George walked slowly back towards his son and handed off his driver to the caddy. “Well, it won’t do to have the head of the Moore empire abandon the family game. We’ve been playing for generations, you remember, and there isn’t a successful businessman alive who hasn’t gained immense opportunity through being on the green. Can’t have the links suddenly bereft of any Moores. It brings out the best in a businessman, son. Remember that.”

Harrison forced a smile and nodded, staring intently into his scotch glass. “Indeed, I will remember that. I suppose you’re right, though. Quite honestly, I don’t find much time to get out on the links as it is.”

“Spending too much time on your surfboard, I imagine. It’s a child’s sport, and you should abandon it.”

Harrison shrugged. He didn’t care enough to lie about that, and even his father couldn’t upset him when it came to surfing. “I’ve always found the ocean far more relaxing than the golf course. Maybe you should take it up. It would be good for your heart.”

“The ocean isn’t meant for man. The golf course is.” He gestured to Harrison and then to the teeing green. “It’s impolite to hold up the play, son.”

Harrison took a deep breath and tried to ignore his father’s prodding. It was almost like he couldn’t help himself. He always had to be contrary and weigh like an anchor on anything Harrison said or did. He got out of the cart and put down his drink.

As the caddy handed him his driver, Harrison breathed and thought of Clarice. The memory of her beautiful body beneath him, the sounds of her moans in his ears, it made all the anger at his father dissipate like smoke from a candle. He felt warm and happy.

He also, somehow, already missed her deeply.

The Moores played in silence for a few holes more until George had finally had enough scotch to feel comfortable breeching semi-emotional territory. Harrison knew he was sure to get more trouble about the engagement from his mother, naturally, but George wouldn’t be able to go without saying something. After all, this was his very own doing, his own demands Harrison was meeting.

It was so predictable that Harrison saw exactly when it was coming. George watched the caddy pour out the last of one of the bottles into his glass, and George downed half of it before shuffling back to the golf cart. He was trying to look relaxed, but George Moore never relaxed. Instead he more resembled a fresh, unwrapped mummy in his movements. It was almost like his own body was trying to stop him from getting emotional.

“Well then, Clarice seems like a lovely woman,” he finally said, looking around at anything but his son.

Harrison nodded and sipped at his scotch. “She is a very lovely woman. I’m lucky to have her.”

“And you’re sure about her then?” said George.

“Sure?” asked Harrison. He turned with a bit of an incredulous laugh. “Are you double-checking with me that I want to marry her? A bit of a bold question to ask a newly engaged man, wouldn’t you say?”

“Women come and go, son, especially when you come from a family line as prestigious and valuable as ours. It’s a simple question. You’ve not exactly enjoyed traditional relationships in your youth, and you’ve always fought me when this subject came up in the past. It’s only prudent to wonder what has changed your mind.”

“I’m sure mum will be happy at the implications you’re making.”

“Your mum is a gem,” blurted George. “She is a gem of a woman, and I wasn’t so stupid as to throw her away or let someone else snatch her up. Are you going to be that stupid, Harrison?”

Harrison stared at his father in surprise. Even these simple endearments were few and far between, and it was strange to hear them. “Father, I don’t understand what’s got you so excited. I’m not being stupid. I’m marrying Clarice, aren’t I? I’m not throwing her away.”

“And you shouldn’t,” said George. He sat down next to his son in the golf cart. “Your family name is supposed to have granted you a special life, Harrison; a life your grandfather worked hard to build, and pass on to me, and that I have worked hard to make even better for you and your future children. That’s what we do, son. That’s what all this is about. Part of that life is spending it next to a wonderful partner who loves and supports you, and makes all your successes worthwhile. Someone who will give you your heirs, yes, but it must be more than that. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

Harrison wasn’t sure. He was simply stunned to hear this kind of talk, and let his father continue without responding.

George looked down into his scotch and cleared his throat. “Family is a blessing, Harrison, and I want you to have all the blessings life can offer. I know you haven’t always agreed with me, especially after what happened with Anastasia.”

Harrison closed his eyes. The pain in his heart at that moment was too strong for him to spare the vulnerability of anyone seeing it in his eyes. His longtime sweetheart throughout childhood, she had led him on and ripped his heart out just before they left for university, and Harrison had never fully healed from the wound. He had trusted her so deeply. “Father, please… don’t.”

“You have always had a good, strong heart, Harrison. A warm heart. Your mother’s heart. I’m sorry that Anastasia hurt you badly enough to make you want to turn it to ice. It’s very difficult for a father to admit when he doesn’t have the experience to relate to his child. I was fortunate enough to have met your mother young enough that I never had to endure what you did. I admit, I don’t know what it feels like to have a broken heart, son. Not like you had to carry.”

Warm tears rolled down Harrison’s skin before he could stop them, and he did nothing to wipe them away. He was frozen there in the rare moment.

“I’m happy to see you opening your heart again, Harrison. I’m happy to see you loving someone again.”

George patted his son’s knee and gave it a stern shake before he finally got too uncomfortable with the show of emotion to go on. He settled up in the driver’s seat of the golf cart and cleared his throat as he set the cart in motion over the sunny green links.

A raging cloud of dark emotions overwhelmed Harrison’s heart. He should be happy, he realized. Happy that his father was so thoroughly convinced that Clarice was his future wife that he would open up so fully to him. The ruse was working flawlessly. So flawlessly it had inspired his father to spill a veritable emotional tidal wave. He was so close to smoothing out this massive problem he had created.

But he didn’t feel happy. Harrison felt darker than a moonless night. The ruse succeeding seemed like a faraway problem when pitted against the reality that soon, Clarice would be returning to her real life, and Harrison would return to his. Alone. This beautiful life he was faking, the one his father was so thrilled to finally see him achieve, it was all a lie that would be over sooner rather than later.

Harrison realized he didn’t want that. He didn’t want Clarice to leave. Seeing the reality of his father’s reactions made that starkly clear.

D
espite his mother’s
insistence that the only place she wanted to see in Bali was their private pool, with the help of sweet Clarice’s influence, the men were able to convince her to take a day out of the resort and visit the local city after they returned from the links. It wasn’t a very large place and much about it still catered heavily to the tourist crowd influxes from the resorts, but it was clean and safe, and did a wonderful job displaying the local Balinese culture.

They took separate town cars out of the resort, on George’s insistence, in case he was suddenly needed for something important and had to leave. Harrison didn’t quarrel with him over it. Instead, he was glad to get the time alone with Clarice.

The way she grinned at him as she slid across the leather backseat said she was glad for it, too. Harrison smiled back and felt his lust rising as he joined her in the car and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Hi there,” she said coyly. “First family outing, eh? I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” said Harrison, kissing her head. “They
adore
you, especially mother. I can’t believe you convinced her to leave the resort. They’ll have you canonized for that.”

“What’s her deal with that?” asked Clarice.

“She’s just a bit of a dainty woman, is all,” said Harrison with a sigh. “She was raised on an estate, the daughter of a lesser duke. She might actually believe everywhere outside of England is a shanty town.”

Clarice laughed, her hand to her chest. “Oh, that’s awful, not funny. I shouldn’t laugh.”

“It’s a bit funny,” said Harrison. “Insanity always is.”

Clarice relaxed against his body as the car began its drive out of the resort and around the island highway. Harrison ran his fingers gently up and down the soft skin of her arm. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten so physically intimate with a woman.

Sex wasn’t intimate, not for him. Sex was just something he did; something he needed, like food or a bath. He loved it a lot more than most of his needs, but it was part of his body’s functioning. But this… this was something different. He didn’t hold the women he was with like this, because he didn’t feel anything for them, and he definitely didn’t want to encourage their feelings for him.

Yet every time Clarice’s body moved even a little away from him, all he wanted was to pull it back close and not let go. And every time he tightened her arms in little squeezes, she made a soft little happy sound and nuzzled against him. It almost made his heart burst.

Something different was happening to him.

The town cars dropped them off as instructed at a local theater, one that Harrison recommended quite often to guests of the resort. Bali was respected the world over for its performance arts, including dance and theater, and he did his best to make sure visitors didn’t behave like his recluse mother and deny themselves the cultural experience. Bruce was especially passionate about it, too. So much so that with his anthropology background, between the two of them, they had increased attendance at this particular hall by almost fifteen percent. As a thank-you, the owner offered Harrison box seats to any performance he wanted to attend —though Harrison always bought the tickets anyway. He didn’t need the perks, and it was more important to him that the local economy continued to thrive.

Clinging tightly to George’s arm, Vanessa was looking around very suspiciously as they walked up the stone staircase to the beautiful play space. Harrison gave Clarice a nudge and a nod.

“Look at her face. She thinks it’s going to start raining frogs any moment,” he whispered.

Clarice glanced over slyly, and when she turned back, her eyes were alight with amusement and her attempts at bottling laughter. She pushed her face into Harrison’s arm to hide the noise she couldn’t stop, and that only made Harrison lose his composure.

“Are you coming, then?” asked his father from the top of the stairs. His expression said he had heard the laughter.

“Two seconds,” said Harrison with an apologetic hand wave. “My bride just needs a drink of water, that’s all.”

Clarice was shaking with laughter and turned towards the town car, pretending to turn it into a cough. But she also found room to swing a playful fist at Harrison’s arm for his shenanigans.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” she said to him once she had caught breath enough to talk.

“You mean to say I’m
hilarious
and should start my own comedy routine at the club,” said Harrison. “I’ve thought about it, I won’t lie to you. I was thinking my stage name could be Lance Thunderwood.”