The Workaholic and the Realist (New Hampshire Bears #2) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Harlow

I’d been back from Boston for a few days. Meadow informed me the Bears had lost three games in the first round of playoffs. I pretended not to care, but I could guarantee Keaton would be a hot mess.

I pushed all thoughts about Keaton, hockey, and anything related to him away. My epiphany in Boston led me to understand who I truly was.

Harlow Goldsmith. Single. Independent. Owner of a new top-of-the-line vibrator. Men unneeded.

If I craved companionship, I’d get a dog or cat, maybe a fish. Who was I kidding? I’d just buy a new purse or shoes and get over it. Retail therapy might be expensive, but it was effective.

Dacey opened the front and smiled. “Good morning.”

I’d obviously given the poor girl a scare when I up and left. Meadow said she called her daily to check on me. “I’m here, and we have a lot of work to do.”

“Today’s the big day.” Dacey beamed.

I could feel it; her excitement was in the air, and it was contagious. Today, I officially started at the publishing house. Last night, they had sent over two manuscripts, and I needed to get on them.

As we were about to head up the stairs, a soft knock came at the door, and I glanced at Dacey.

“The Bears are still out of town.” She’d suddenly become psychic because, in a flash, I’d thought it was Keaton on the other side.

“Head on up and start checking those emails. I’ll be up in a moment.” She rushed up the stairs as I opened the door. “Felicia?” Keaton’s mother was the last person I expected to see on my porch.

“Harlow.” She gave me at tiny smile. “We’ve never been formally introduced.”

I nodded. The one, and only, time I’d seen her was the incident in the parking garage.

“May we speak for a moment?”

I crossed my arms, blocking the doorway. I had at least five inches on her, and I sure as hell wasn’t letting her into my house.

“Okay.” She didn’t intimidate easily, but I couldn’t care less. “Keaton is a great kid, and I know it’s not been going well for you two.”

Understatement.

“But I want to say you should give him a second chance.”

I kept my mouth shut.

“You seem like a forgiving person.”

I’m not, and not with jerks.

“Anyway, this is from Keaton.” Out of her bag she pulled a rose and a wrapped gift. She handed them to me, but I didn’t take them. “You know you want to take it.”

She thinks she knows me.
Damn it, she did. I took the items.

“Like I said, he’s a good guy.” I watched her turn and walk off my porch and down the street.

I shut the door and sat on the couch. The flower’s deep red coloring made it a beautiful rose, even if it hadn’t bloomed completely. The paper covering the gift wasn’t anything special, just a simple shade a pink, housing something hard. I knew it had to be a book as I ripped the paper to shreds.

Pride and Prejudice.

I had to be the one person left in the world who never read this book. I’ve seen the movie, but I considered myself a more modern reader. Classical books didn’t do it for me. Nonetheless, Keaton sent it to me and I had been a kind gesture.

But too late.

Dacey and I spent the entire day working our fingers to the bone. I added a new task to her job list. She became a proofreader. I realized, reading her emails, that she was quiet proficient in grammar. Every time I would finish a few chapters, I sent them to her, and she doubled checked it all.

Hey, I can’t catch every fucking comma on the first round.

Time flew by, and neither of us took notice until Dacey’s phone rang.

“Hi Vance,” she answered.

I tried not to listen, but come on; I was nosy as hell.

“I’m still working with Harlow.”

I checked the clock on my computer.
Shit, it’s seven, and I hadn’t been thinking about Keaton.

Until now.

“I’m not a child. I can stay after dark.”

What’s this?
Now, I
was
all ears, hearing Dacey show her backbone.

“Your mother and mine are handling it. There’s nothing for me to do, and if I did have an opinion, no one would listen,” she sneered into the phone.

Get it, Dacey.

“Vance, if you want me home soon then you need to quit distracting me so I can finish my task.”

Bravo!

“Bye.” She ended her call and went back to the computer screen.

How long does one wait until asking nosy questions?

“So, are you making wedding plans?”

That long.

“Not me. Our mothers, I’m just…” She shrugged away the rest of her response.

“You’re just going to show up, huh?”

Dacey nodded and turned to me. “They’ve picked everything out, and the one time I suggested something they quickly shut me down.”

“I’m not sure I could bite my tongue.”

“Not a lot I can do,” she said sadly.

“It’s your wedding, right?”

“It’s not
that
simple. In our traditions, the mothers handle it all. I have to just, I guess, go with it.”

I knew I should have shut up, but I asked the question I wanted to know. “Do you love Vance?”

“I care for him.”

“Care and love are two different things.”

“Both of which don’t matter, because in our families, this is how it is and always has been.”

“Have you ever, I’m not sure how to put it, but gone out with other guys?”

Dacey’s eyes grew the size of silver dollars and went pale. “Absolutely not. God, I’d be disowned and on the streets with nothing. I might not agree one hundred percent with everything in our traditions, but I never would go back on my word. I vowed to marry Vance and it’ll happen.”

I held up my hands. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m a curious cat and simply asked.”

“I know it’s strange. A lot of people think so, but it’s our way, and there’s no arguments and negotiations about it.”

“Dacey,” I lowered my tone. “I’m sorry. I truly am not trying to offend your family’s beliefs or traditions. It’s the twenty-first century, and it’s
strange
to me. I would have run away if my parents told me I had to marry someone.”

“That is the difference between you and me,” she whispered, her voice sad.

“It is.”

We were quiet for a moment before she said, “My parents really are great people. My sister is my best friend and has the kindest heart of anyone.”

“I don’t doubt it for a single second. I can tell you had a great upbringing because you’re very thoughtful and kindhearted.”

She nodded and returned to her computer screen. We worked for another hour before I finally sent her home. I didn’t want her to think I was a slave driver and her phone kept vibrating.

When she left, I changed into something more comfortable, made a sandwich, and curled up on the couch with my Kindle, but my eyes landed on the book Keaton had sent.

I picked it up and thumbed through the pages.
UGH!
Classic literature sucked so badly. I even hated it in high school and college, but I made it through that, maybe I could with these few hundred pages. Plus, I liked the movie, so maybe the book would be easier to get through.

Page after page, chapter after chapter, I was sucked into the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy. I still thought Elizabeth’s sisters were annoying except for Jane. She reminded me a lot of Meadow and Maxima with their kindness and good looks. I seriously hated Lady Catherine. The old bitty should have kept her nosy ass out of Elizabeth’s business. Of course, I would have totally kicked Mr. Wickman’s ass to the curb. Player alert.

But there was Mr. Darcy. You have to give props to a man who ruined love lives and then pieced them back together. Not to mention holding on to hope for Elizabeth’s stubborn ass to come around. Sometimes, women with smart mouths and brains are harder to reign in.

When I looked at the clock on the wall it read three in the morning.
Damn.
I rubbed my eyes. I had finished the book and knew why Keaton sent this one to me, but it was too late.

Right?

Dacey arrived bright and early the next day. I promised myself I wouldn’t keep her all day. I knew the Bears played game four tonight, and it was a do or die game.

I finished one manuscript. Thankfully, it wasn’t terribly long. The author’s work had high quality content, but it was boring. I left a lot of comments about it too. Even Dacey agreed, and I welcomed the confirmation.

I sent her home a couple of hours later, under extreme protests. “Vance is still gone. Run a hot bath, grab a smutty book, and relax until the game starts.” I pushed her lightly on the shoulder to get her out of my house, laughing at her.

I went to the gym after she finally left and did a long yoga session. The welcome pains of stretching actually dulled the tightness of not working out the past couple weeks. I needed to get myself back onto a schedule and stick with it. I wouldn’t let myself get fat, or at least out of shape.

When I finished, I went home, made a fruit salad, and sat in front of the TV. I shouldn’t have been watching this game.

Why was I watching this game?

The commentators were hard on the Bears, but had every right to be. The dynamic duo of Remington and Kyson hadn’t tallied one goal, which was very uncharacteristic of them since they were the top players in goals and assists. They even commented on Keaton, saying he didn’t seem to have his head in the game.

I know why.

I would bank it was about me, but maybe Grams had more to do with it than I did. Nonetheless, he played like crap. Well, according to Meadow, anyway.

When the puck dropped, I knew exactly what the commentators were saying. Remington, Kyson, and Hamilton were on the first line, but none of them could hang onto the puck. They lost it quickly. Keaton couldn’t even help to block or steal it. And the red light went off, indicating a goal for the other team.

Period after period, I watched the Bears fall deeper and deeper. I shut the TV off with two minutes left. The Bears were down by five, and from the way they were playing, there was no coming back from the deficit.

For a quick second, I thought about sending Keaton a text, but stopped myself as my fingered hovered over his name on the cell phone screen.

I’m done with him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Keaton

As if I can take anymore shit.

I stood at my stall and changed, fuming mad. We were out of the playoffs and our season done. It was over.

Now what?

No one wanted to hang out when we reached the hotel. I decided the bar would be a better option for me then going to the room. Sure, I should have gone straight up there, opened my laptop, and not looked up until I was complete happy with my final project, but alcohol sounded better.

I grabbed the nearest stool and ordered a beer and a shot. I figured a couple of the other guys would be down here, but I saw none of them. I stared at the TV where there were highlights of sports around the world. Even though I heard noise from the TV and around the room, my brain only concentrated on one thing.

Harlow.

I expected to hear from her, even if she was yelling, but nothing. Felicia told me she took my gift, but said she didn’t say a whole lot. I couldn’t be sure if she’d told me the truth, but I took Felicia at her word.

“Is this seat taken?” A very pretty blonde asked next to me.

“No.” I turned back toward the TV.

Did Harlow watch the game? I doubted it. I knew she wasn’t a huge hockey fan. So, it was unlikely she’d watch many games I’d play in ever again.

I called for another round of drinks and realized the woman was sitting extremely close to me. I wasn’t an idiot about what was happening when our thighs touched. I rubbed my fingers hard against my mouth.

“I’m guessing you’re having a very bad night.” She leaned in closer to me.

“How can you tell?” I’d play her little game for moment.

“I saw the game.”

I nodded, diverting my eyes away from her. Her eyes weren’t blue like Harlow’s, nor was she as tall, nor…

“What are
your
plans until your plane leaves?”

Six months ago, I would have come up with some cocky, smart-ass comment about my dick or sex, but now? I had nothing. Not one damn comeback.

“Maybe we can chit-chat about hockey.” She pushed her breasts up by rolling her shoulders back. My gaze flicked down to her round chest.

“Maybe.” I moved my eyes up to her non-blue eyes. “Maybe my hotel room would be more suitable to discuss…hockey.”

Her face broke out into a big smile. “Sounds perfect.”

I tossed a couple twenties on the bar and led the way to the elevator. I sent a quick text to Remington letting him know I had our room occupied.

“Do you want to know my name?” she sweetly asked, batting her eyes as I opened the door to the room.

“Nope,” I bluntly stated as I jerked my tie off. “All you’re going to do is suck my dick and then leave.” I didn’t care about anything else.

“Well, I hoped for more than just giving you a blow job,” she somewhat scoffed.

I faced her and saw her eyes widen a bit. “Nope.”

“Um…” she took a step back and suddenly became almost scared.

“You’re more than welcome to leave. The door is right behind you.” I pointed over her shoulder. “I already told you what I wanted. Period.”

“I think leaving is the better option.” She quickly rushed to the door and left me alone, making me feel even more of an ass.

It had been three days since our season ended. I cleaned out my locker, did some final interviews, ditched Kyson and Remington for dinner, and sent my final project in to school. One would think I had been extremely productive, but right now, I was trying to hide the fact my hands were shaking.

Meadow patted my shoulder. “It’ll be fine. I know what you’re going through.”

I nodded. She’d come over to my house to help me self-publish my book. The cover designer sent me the final cover, and I did a lot of research on how to write a synopsis, which Meadow called a blurb.

“Okay, click here.” She pointed on my laptop and I did as I was told.

For the past half hour, she’d helped me and explained each step of the process to me. The sad part: I only partially listened because I still couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Wait,” I barked. “What does that say?”

Meadow giggled. “It says, publishing. In about twenty-four hours, your book will be available for the world, Bret Knapp.”

“Bret Knapp, right?” I confirmed my pen name aloud, again. Meadow thought it was nice I honored my grandparents in such a way.

“It’ll be okay,” she repeated.

“Right.” I breathed.

“Listen, you have the names of the promotion groups, right? Get a hold of them and we’ll all get the word out.”

I nodded.
This is happening.

“Does Harlow know you
published
today?”

I gave her a pointed look. “Pretty sure you know the answer the question.”

“What was the last time you two spoke?”

“I’m sure you know that answer too.” I sighed and went back to staring at the computer screen now showing my book was
in review.

“So, you haven’t spoken since you groped her?”

I groaned. “Yes.”

“Well, my opinion, if it matters to you, is she does miss you.”

I whipped my head around so fast, I almost gave myself whiplash. “What? Really?”

“She read the book, and you know how she hates the classics.”

“She read it?”

Meadow grinned.

“But she never contacted me?”

“Do you know
anything
about Harlow Goldsmith?” She scoffed. “She’s a tiny bit hard headed.”

“I know; she should have at least sent a text.” I crossed my arms and damn near pouted.

“Excuse me.” Meadow raised her voice. “Maybe you should have manned-up and apologized face-to-face.”

“I…I…” I couldn’t tell her how I chickened out. Again, I had no comeback. Meadow called me out, and she was right.

“Just be you. You are who she fell in love with.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m more confused about my life than ever before.”

“Keaton, losing Grams really changed your life. Trust me, I know how losing someone you love affects you, but I know Grams would kick your ass if she knew how you were acting.”

I grinned. “Yes, she would, and you’re not the first to tell me this.”

“Then talk to Harlow. You may have to duck a lot if she throws things.” She pushed on my shoulder, joking.

“I bet she has a good arm,” I softly chuckled.

“Just talk to her.”

I nodded, knowing I needed to do exactly what Meadow said.

Puck after puck, for what seemed like forever, I signed my name. The Bears were holding a summer hockey camp for local, underprivileged teens. Part of their gift bags would include a signed puck by me. Hence, my cramping hand, but I wasn’t complaining.

“Only twenty more.” Felicia sat another stack in front of me.

“Thanks.”

“Just remember, it’s for the kids.”

A small smile gave way, “I know, and in truth, it’s the only reason I’m still signing.”

“Liar.” She winked and stepped away as I finished up.

When I signed the last one, I capped the marker and went to find Felicia. “I’m all done.” I found her typing at her desk.

“Great.” She smiled as another girl in the room jumped up to gather up the pucks.

“Um…have you…” I trailed off; my thoughts were suddenly jumbled, and I couldn’t form a sentence.

“What?” She seemed as confused as was I, but I wanted to talk to her.

Why? I can’t be sure.

“Would you like to grab some lunch?”

Her eyes shined. “I’d love to Keaton.”

She grabbed her purse, and we headed off to a small diner down the street. The team and I sometimes ate there since it was so close. We walked because it was a beautiful late April day.

I didn’t say anything as we strolled into the diner. Even though we’ve chatted before, this was still new to me. Felicia and I had no real relationship, but last night, for the millionth time, I read Grams’ letter. My mind also weighed heavily with thoughts of Harlow.

I’m chicken-shit for not doing more for Harlow.

Felicia and I ordered our food, and I paid for both even though she already had money out. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” I carried the tray to a small table.

We ate a few bites in silence before Felicia spoke up. “Keaton, not that I’m not enjoying our lunch, but there’s clearly something on your mind.”

“I guess.” I dodged her observation.

“If you’re going to throw me out just say it,” she sighed.

“What? No. No.” I waved my hands. “I’m glad you’re staying at Grams. I know I should have gone through her things already, but I can’t.” A lump formed in my throat. I missed her so much.

“I can contribute to the bills. You just have to tell me how you much you want each month.”

“Felicia.” I looked in her eyes, knowing it was the right thing to do. “You just handle the utilities, okay?”

Her face lit up. “Really? You mean it?”

“I do.”

“It means so much.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“You’re welcome.”

The silence fell between us again until we finished our food. Then she brought the subject up again. “Has Harlow contacted you yet?”

I shook my head.

“Did you call her?”

“No.”

Felicia rolled her eyes at me. “Seriously, Keaton. Call her. I bet if you take the first step, it’ll be fine.”

“I talked to Meadow, her best friend, and she reminded me how hard headed Harlow could be.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“No fucking clue.”

After I left Felicia, I headed to the gym to work out for a couple of hours. As I lifted the weights, and my legs burned while running on the treadmill, all I thought about was Harlow.

Yes, our relationship had been fast paced.

Yes, it started just as sexual attraction and quick fucks.