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CHAPTER NINE

HARLOW

I pushed the door open with more force than necessary and kicked my wet shoes off on the mat.

My entire body ached from spending the day trudging through my flooded house, listening to plumbers and contractors rattle off estimates, and spending hours on the phone with the insurance company.

According to the trust, my mom’s attorney, who was the trustee of her estate, was responsible for the upkeep and renovations.

He responded to my email politely, letting me know he was on vacation and would look into the matter when he returned.

The house was all I had left of my mom. I would be dammed if I let it all turn to shit because her lawyer couldn’t be bothered with making a phone call while on vacation.

The entire day was overwhelming, and the idea of spending another night at Brooks Dawson’s house was sending me over the edge.

While I was grateful that he allowed me to stay, the man drove me crazy.

Speak of the devil. “You didn’t need to slam my door open.”

“I didn’t slam it,” I shot back and crossed my arms. “It’s not my fault the damn thing is hard to open.”

He raised an eyebrow and kicked his boots off. “Of course, my door is the problem, not your attitude.”

“What do you expect? Your contractors told me it would take months—months! To repair the damage. If your guys are as good as you say they are, then they should be able to get it done quicker.” The words slipped out before I could shut my mouth.

I didn’t mean them; I was simply frustrated. It wasn’t his fault I was in a mood.

He smirked. “You’re welcome to find someone else who can do the job on such short notice. Good luck finding someone, though, who can do a better job than me and my team.”

I huffed and turned toward the kitchen. “Whatever. I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”

I heard his steps follow me over to the wine rack. “Careful, princess. You’re starting to sound a little ungrateful.”

I spun around as he casually leaned against the counter. “I’m not ungrateful. I’ve been through hell these past few days. I went from living in a high-rise in the city and a thriving career, to being homeless, and you treating me like I’m some clueless little girl who can’t make her own decisions.”

His smirk disappeared. “I’m trying to help you. But, sure, let’s make me out to be the bad guy. Does that make it easier for you?”

I huffed. “Nothing about this situation is easy.”

“I’m not the one who fucked up your house,” he fired back, his tone matching mine. The tension between us was growing so thick that I almost choked on it.

We stood toe-to-toe in some type of standoff. His eyes were locked on mine. His jaw was tight with tension. For a moment, I forgot why I was even angry.

I sighed. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m tired, and it’s been a long day. Can we start over?”

“Fine by me.” He brushed past me to get a beer from the fridge while I grabbed a bottle of wine.

We moved around the kitchen in tense silence and set the table for our takeout containers. We grabbed some Mexican food on the way back, but my appetite was nowhere to be found.

Brooks sat across from me and started eating his burrito while I cut into my quesadilla. He kept stealing glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

He took a sip of his beer. “Listen, I understand you’re not happy with the timeline, but there was more damage than I expected.”

I picked up my wine and brought it to my lips. “Can’t your guys find a way to speed things up?”

“You obviously know nothing about construction. You need your electrical system fixed, floors redone, and walls replaced. You need to have patience.”

“I need your guys to work faster, that’s what I need.”

He exhaled through his nose, trying not to lose his patience with me. “That’s not how it works, unless you want me to cut corners.”

I pushed the rice around on my plate with my fork. “I’m grateful that you're letting me stay here. I don’t want to be a burden.”

He pushed his chair back. “You are not a burden.”

I kept my eyes on my plate, which I barely touched. “I know you didn’t sign up for this, and it’s not easy for you. I can look for a temporary living situation.”

He set his beer down with a thud. “You want to leave my house?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked over at Diesel, who was lying by my foot, waiting for a crumb to drop. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I told you the room was yours for however long you need it.”

“You did, but I know how much you hate having me in your space. You’re used to living alone, and now you have to deal with me and my problems. I’m sure you would rather have your freedom back.”

He kicked his feet out and crossed his ankles. “What kind of freedom are you referring to? What exactly am I missing out on?”

I poked at my quesadilla like an idiot. “I don’t know, maybe bring a woman over. Date or whatever it is you do.”

He folded his arms across his stomach. “Why don’t you focus on your house and let me handle my personal life.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to have someone over, I’ll stay out of your way.” The words didn’t sit right, not even as I said them. I had no idea why I even had to bring it up? The thought of him with someone else made me want to puke, and I knew I had no right to feel that way.

“You don’t need to worry about who I date or what I do.”

“I’m not worried,” I said, way too quickly.

It was a lie, and I was pretty sure he could see right through me. All I could picture was him with a beautiful woman, with perfect hair and flawless skin, sitting on the couch, laughing at jokes or, God forbid, hearing them in his bedroom.

I would die.

The jealousy that churned in my stomach had no right to be there. He wasn’t mine. He hasn’t been for a long time.

“So, you would be okay if I brought someone back here?”

I picked up the napkins on the table and started rearranging them. “I mean, it’s your house. You can do whatever you want. I don’t want to make things awkward for you.”

His lips curved slightly. “Things are already awkward.”

“They don’t have to be. I can leave.”

“Stop.” His voice was firm, causing me to stiffen. “Just stop, okay?”

“Stop what?” I asked, playing dumb. I hated his ability to see right through me.

“Stop acting like you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

Jesus. I was so damned stubborn. It was clear to both of us that it would bother me.

“You’re seriously going to lie to my face?”

I didn’t respond because I didn’t trust myself to speak without saying something stupid. So, I stood up and brought my dish to the sink.

My heart started to pound when I heard him step up to my back. I hated that after all these years, those feelings were still there, that he still had the ability to get under my skin. My heart, which I worked very hard to keep safe, was in a dangerous place when it came to him. It always had been.

“Tell me again how it doesn’t matter,” he said, his hot breath against my ear.

I had to clench my eyes shut and shove my feelings down where they belonged. I couldn’t handle him this close to me. In my personal space, making me feel things that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“It doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter. It mattered a lot. I just convinced myself that I didn’t have the right to care.

“Liar,” he said, moving closer. He brushed my hair to the side and pressed his chest against my back.

The plate I had been holding on to slipped out of my hands. My breath hitched when I felt the heat of him press further into me. All I could focus on was his scent. It was a mixture of soap and sawdust, and it was all him.

“I’m not lying,” I said, feeling my pulse hammer against my ribs.

“Then turn around and face me. Look me in the eye and tell me the idea of me being with another woman doesn’t drive you crazy.”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to look at him. “What you do is your business.”

“Turn around and face me, Harlow.”

Against my better judgment, I did and suddenly regretted it.

His eyes searched mine as if he saw right through my bullshit. This was too much. He was too close. I wanted to back away and put some space between us, but I couldn’t get my body to move.I stood there, tangled up in my emotions that were caught between logic and insanity.

“I’m facing you. Now, what do you want?” I tried to come off as snarky, but it came out breathless instead.

He swallowed hard. “Isn’t that a loaded question?”

“Brooks.” I shook my head. I thought I could handle this, but I’d never been more delusional in my life.

“I don’t know why I still care so much about what happens to you. I should tell you to leave, help you find someplace else to stay.”He leaned in, and his eyes fell to my lips. “Did you really mean it?”

“Mean what?” My head was fuzzy, and my knees felt like they would give out at any second.

“That you didn’t care.”

Oh, that. Damn it. How was I supposed to get out of that one?

I opened my mouth to say something, but he was making it impossible to think straight. The truth was right there between us. I did care, and the smart thing to do would have been to back away and ignore the pull that seemed to be getting stronger by the second, but my legs wouldn’t move.

His hand gripped the side of my neck. “That’s what I thought.”

Before I could say anything else, he hauled me into his chest and kissed me.

It was light and soft and barely a kiss.

It felt like he was testing the waters and giving me a chance to pull away, which I didn’t.

Something unleashed inside me, giving me the courage to stand on my tiptoes and grip the fabric of his shirt in my hands.

The kiss was beautiful and devastating at the same time. It reminded me of how much I loved him before everything fell apart. Brooks took his sweet time, as though fully aware of what he was doing to me.

His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer. Kissing Brooks felt the same as it always had, but there was something different about it, reminding me how we both had changed over the years. I wanted to cling to him and allow the last five years to fade from my memory.

Diesel barked and Brooks jerked back. My heart was racing, and my mind was all over the place.

It was only a kiss. It shouldn’t mean anything, but I forgot how easily I could get wrapped up in this man.

His fingers brushed my cheek, and I quickly stepped back, needing a little breathing space. He stared at me for a moment, as if he was trying to figure me out. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t even know where to begin. There was too much history between us. So much pain.

I might have been the one who ended things, but the reasons why were still there.

For a moment, I thought he would say something, but then the doorbell rang.

Brooks cursed as he strode across the room. He swung the door open, and my heart stopped.

“Well,” my father said, his hard eyes darting back and forth. “Doesn’t this look cozy?”