Page 3 of Right Side of Paradise
Something Like Paradise
Swatches of lavender, magenta and coral streaked the sky with the sun’s descent, contrasting with the languid blue waves breaking against the shore.
Citronella candles scented the air and muffled voices competed with the R&B spilling through the speakers.
The patio at Paradise was packed, like it always was on Friday nights. But I couldn’t help but feel like there were even more people than usual here because of the five-foot-four-inch ball of sunshine standing at the bar.
It didn’t take long for word to spread that Harlow was back in town, and it seemed like everybody on this island was simultaneously trying to get in some face time with her.
“Sometimes I miss when Harlow was too shy to talk to people,” I mumbled before trapping the cocktail straw between my teeth and sucking down the last of my drink.
Stare locked on her, I felt Soul shift beside me. His knee brushed mine as he moved deeper into my space.
“Why?” he wanted to know.
“Because.” I inclined my head in her direction just as she bumped her hip against Zay’s near the bar. After we ate at his restaurant earlier, he tagged along for the five-minute walk to the bar with us.
At the time, I didn’t think shit of it, but the longer I watched him latch onto Harlow, the more I wished we’d stayed home and ordered in. “We ain’t seen her since we walked in.”
Zay was looking at her like she hung the fucking moon and even though I couldn’t hear their conversation, the body language told me enough. She loved the attention and it was giving me heartburn.
I wasn’t overprotective. Harlow was grown. She could do whatever she wanted, but I wished she’d do it with someone else. Zay didn’t deserve her.
From the deep scowl on Christian’s face across the bar, he felt the same.
“She’s not leaving in a few days like before. We don’t have to be selfish with her time. She’s having fun,” Soul said calmly as his hand landed on my thigh. He squeezed once and left it there. The comforting heat of his touch made me drop my hand on top of his so he wouldn’t pull it away.
Soul had always been so damn affectionate. And now that we were…exploring things, his touches were more frequent and lingered even longer.
I didn’t hate it.
I didn’t hate anything about Soul.
If Harlow was sunshine, he was moonlight.
He had a knack for controlling the tempo of any room he entered.
He knew how to turn chaos into calm and the soothing effect he had on people was exactly why he was so successful as a massage therapist. He was compassionate and empathetic to a fault and went out of his way to make everyone feel good.
That’s why he’d spent his only morning off this week peeling and pulling apart clementines for Harlow. Because he knew how much she loved them but also knew she hated the way the smell got trapped under her nails.
And that’s why when he was done and tried to give me a massage to help me relax after my latest deadline submission, it turned into two hours of us…losing track of time.
When I turned to study his profile, his eyes were on Harlow and the smile on his lips rounded his cheeks.
I dipped my head to kiss the side of his neck and grumbled, “Still don’t like that shit.”
Soul pulled his hand from under mine and threw his arm behind my high back stool. The familiar weight of his forearm and bicep draped across my shoulders made me relax into the contact.
“She’s having fun,” he reminded me, grabbing his mojito. “Besides, she’s coming home with us.”
His voice was like velvet—confident and smooth while still coming out soft. I couldn’t help but believe everything he told me.
Exhaling, I nodded. “Yeah, she’s coming home with us.”