The Workaholic and the Realist (New Hampshire Bears #2) (22 page)

Chapter Thirty

Keaton

I effortlessly found two deck chairs facing the ocean. A lot of people were still out exploring the city. However, there were several families and children in and around the pool.

I hadn’t been paying attention, but out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Harlow remove her cover-up. My dick twitched as my full attention focused on her lean, slammin’ body and blue bikini.

“You’re drooling,” she informed me and laid out on her deck chair.

“Are you kidding me?” I mumbled and sat on my deck chair. I gazed at her long legs, flat stomach, and round breasts. I didn’t know how long I could stay out here without attacking her.

No, she needs time. Back off, Keaton.

“What’s wrong?” I heard the question in her teasing tone.

I groaned in response, and she giggled, but didn’t look over at me. Instead, she took out her Kindle and focused on it. I had a paperback, but I continued to stare at her long and luscious legs.

Fuck, I wanted them wrapped around me.

I knew she told me she needed time, and I could give her that. I thought my heart would explode with elation when she didn’t push me away last night. Even the kiss on the cheek damn near sent me over the moon.

I seriously tried to focus on my book, but I absolutely couldn’t read one word on the page. I finally gave up, shut the book, and closed my eyes.

There. That’s better.

“Boring book?” Harlow asked.

“No. I’m just distracted by a sexy woman next to me,” I told her honestly.

“Ah, poor puppy.”

My eyes flew open, and I stared at her again. “You called me puppy.” She hadn’t said it consciously since that unfortunate night.

“Well,” she squirmed in her seat. “It’s your name.”

The smile on my face grew before I could even attempt to stop it. I’d completed another part of the obstacle course in winning Harlow back.

We remained out on the deck for a while longer, and I continued to stare at her. I didn’t care about scenery around me. Just her.

“I’m going to head back.” I abruptly stood up. I had to get out here, or I’d bust through my shorts.

“Okay.” She smiled and then went back to her kindle.

I knew I still had cell service since we were still docked, and I wanted to check my emails and texts before we shoved off again.

Plus, the distraction was well needed.

Felicia sent me several messages about Axel along with a few pics. Remington sent a text about Maxima moving in, and he wanted to know when I’d be back. My mind still couldn’t comprehend all the ins and outs of his situation. But he was doing it for his kid.

I scrolled through my emails, but nothing seemed urgent, until I saw one from the University. I quickly opened it, nervous on what it would say.

Congratulations.

My heart stopped. I did it. I had graduated. All my hard work paid off. Grams popped into my mind. She’d be so proud of me. She’d always been my biggest supporter.

I didn’t realize what was happening, but the tears came quickly. They rolled down my cheeks, and I sniffed hard, wiping them away. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d really cried. I put my head in my hands, dropping my phone in the process.

The sobbing continued, and I couldn’t stop it. The tears flowed heavy for Grams being gone, the hurt and pain I’d caused Harlow, and most of all, the fact she was giving me a second chance, even though I’d treated her like shit. Every emotion I’d felt in the last six months came out through my tear ducts.

I thought I heard the door open, but I couldn’t raise my head. Suddenly, there were arms around me, and I turned into them, burying my head in the crook of her neck. I knew it was my honey-bunny. Her soft, clean scent washed over me, bringing me a state of calmness.

Finally, I pulled back, and Harlow wiped the tears away.

“Wait here.” She jumped up and went to the bathroom. A moment later, she came out with tissues and a washcloth. “Blow you nose,” she ordered, handing me the box.

I did as she told me to, and she began to wipe my face with a warm rag. “I’m sorry.” I sniffled.

“You never, ever have to apologize for crying, Keaton.” She continued to wipe me down. “But may I ask why?”

“I miss Grams. I hate myself for being an asshole toward you. I’m happy I’m here with you. I love you so much, and I shot it all to hell.” I rattled off everything still bouncing around in my head. “And I just got word I graduated with my Master’s.”

Harlow sat back a bit. “Those are all valid reasons to shed tears.”

I nodded, not about to say anything, almost hiding my face.

“Keaton,” she gripped my chin, making me look at her. “Crying is a form of emotion that everyone has and does. Don’t try to be a macho man. There’s nothing wrong with you crying.”

“I miss her, and I hurt you, all the while being an ass.”

“You won’t get any arguments from me on that one.” She released my face. “And I told you, I needed time.”

“I know.” I laced our fingers together. “I’ll give you all the time you need.”

“Well,” she smiled. “I’m hungry and thirsty. I say we change and hit the bar and eat a ton of carbs and drink a lot. Are you in?” She beamed.

“Under one condition.” I knew she wouldn’t go for it, but you couldn’t blame a guy for trying.

“And what’s the condition?”

“One kiss.”

Harlow rolled her eyes. “Keaton, really?”

“I’m completely serious. I want one kiss, and then we’ll go get trashed and eat until we’re stuffed.”

She pursed her lips and eyes me carefully. She had to be thinking hard about this proposal because she hadn’t disagreed yet. “One kiss?”

I held up my index finger and gave her my best sad puppy-dog eyes. No pun intended. “Don’t tell me you’re shy?”

Harlow gave me a small smile. “Well, if I give you this one, very tiny kiss then can we go get drunk and eat?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Harlow leaned in and faintly touched her lips to mine. I couldn’t resist; I grabbed her face and brought us together. I convinced myself she would hit me for sure, but instead, and surprisingly, she giggled. I broke away first, not wanting to press my luck any more than I had.

“Let’s hit the bar.”

It was official: Harlow would kill me with her body.

When she strolled out of the en-suite, all I could focus on were her long, tanned legs. She wore a purple dress that stopped mid-thigh and tied around her neck. Her back was bare again. Staring at her for the rest of the day would do nothing more than please me.

“I take it you’re ready.” She slipped into a pair of matching heels.

“Do you approve of my outfit?” I held my arms out wide. I went simple black dress pants, red shirt, no tie, and rolled-up sleeves.

Harlow inspected me, tapping her finger to her lips. “You’ll do.”

“Well, I hope I don’t embarrass you with my attire.” I leaned in close to her before passing by and opening the door.

“I do like when you’re so formal.” She patted my chest as she crossed the threshold. “It makes you much hotter.”

I smirked at her as we walked hand-in-hand to the lounge bar. I avoided eyes contact with any of the men who were eyeballing my girl. We took a small two-seated booth toward the back, and I ordered us a couple glasses of wine. We both glanced at the minimal menu.

“I vote we order several appetizers and eat them until we want more,” Harlow suggested.

“Sounds good. How about you pick two and I’ll pick two?”

“Okay. I’ll pick cheesy breadsticks and stuffed jalapenos.”

“Yummy. I’ll go with the toasted cheese ravioli and loaded potato skins.”

“And toss in nachos too.”

“It’s a lot of food for us,” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “So what? We’re celebrating, right?”

“You’re right.”

The waitress returned with our wine, and I placed our enormous order, still unsure where it would fit on our small table. Even the woman taking the order seemed concerned.

“Honey-Bunny,” I shifted in my seat, getting ready to discuss an uncomfortable topic.

“Mmm.” Harlow sipped from her glass.

“I’m very sorry about today. I shouldn’t have…lost it…”

“Keaton.” She took my hand. “Stop. You cried, and there’s no reason to apologize for it. I suggest we drop it and discuss something else.”

“Okay. What are we going to talk about?”

“Um…” she took a second to think. “Have you ever done drugs?”

It seemed like a strange question. “No, I’ve never done drugs. You?”

“I smoked weed a few times in college, but nothing else.”

“I knew you were a rebel,” I teased her.

“Have you ever been drunk? Like piss-down drunk.”

“Piss-down?” I never heard that phrase before in my life.

“Just answer, puppy.”

“I drink, but never, ever get drunk. Five is my top number of drinks.”

“Shots?”

“Only when I’m really upset.” I knew I sounded like a big pussy, but I didn’t want to end up like my parents. “I’m taking it you have been piss-down drunk.”

“I can hold my alcohol very well,” she said with pride. I could see there was something she wanted to say, but the waitress brought our food.

“That’s fast service,” I commented, snatching up a potato skin.

“Yes, it is.”

When I glanced up from my plate, Harlow was eyeing me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Getting you drunk.” She took a small bite of the breadstick. “Yep, I am. I think we should get seriously smashed.”

I laughed. “Why? Where did this even come from?”

“When I was twenty-five, I had experienced a lot in my life, as should you.”

I shook my head, smiling. “And getting me completely trashed will help me
experience
life?” I couldn’t figure out where this coming from in her mind.

“Well, it would make things interesting.”

She had a point there. “How about a counter offer?”

“I’m listening.” She rested her head on the heel of her hand.

“What if I drink until I’m very tipsy? I mean, really tipsy, because I still want to be able to remember everything.”

“Deal.” She held out her hand and instead of shaking it, I kissed her knuckles, enjoying the smile on her lips. “Let’s get some food in us first.”

Harlow and I ate a lot of food while discussing books. She really loves her romance books, and a lot of them I never even heard of. She went on about her new job and all the new clients and challenges. I hung on her every word. She talked most the time, and it felt like we did in the beginning when she’d first opened up to me.

We ate more of the food than I thought we would have. As it began to grow colder, Harlow kept talking. I remained quiet, not wanting to break the roll she was on.

The waitress came back and checked on us, removing the empty plates. I finished my glass of wine, as did she.

“Ready for some shots?”

“Are you sure about this, honey-bunny?”

“Oh, yes, I am.” She rubbed her hands together, giving me an evil laugh.

“I’m not sure why this is so exciting to you.” My cheeks hurt from smiling at her.

“Because it’s something different. Something we haven’t done yet.”

“Okay. Bring it on, honey-bunny.”

Harlow waved the waitress over and ordered us a beer a piece and two shots of Alabama Slammers each.

“What did you get us?”

“It’s a delicious mixture of Southern Comfort, Amaretto, and cranberry juice.”

Those seemed to be hard liquors, and I’ve never had them together at once. I reined my nerves in to make sure I did this for her. No matter how silly it was.

The music began to thump in the bar, and Harlow swayed to the bass. She stunned me every time. Her auburn hair loose around her shoulders, her breasts bounced when she did. The waitress sat out beers and shots in front of us, and Harlow beamed.