He takes a step back, his expression both wistful and apologetic, and walks over to where his suit jacket is hanging just as my mother comes out.
“You’re not leaving now, are you?” she asks. “What about your coffee?”
“It was fabulous, but you know what, I think I’ll be bouncing off the walls when I don’t need to be.”
“But the dough,” she protests. “I know it’s two hours, but I could use your help.”
“You’ll be perfectly fine on your own,” he tells her, putting the jacket on. “I have full faith in you.”
“You will come over for pie later, won’t you?” she asks. “You could bring some to Monica and Eddie.”
“I’ll swing by tomorrow,” he says, his eyes catching mine for a moment, trying to tell me something. But I can’t figure out what it is, and then he’s gone, nodding goodbye to the both of us and closing the door.
Tomorrow. He’ll be back tomorrow.
But will he be here to stay this time?
Or are all our meetings in the future going to be fraught with anxiety and stolen kisses, forever having an audience?
There’s always laundry, I tell myself.
Seventeen
The next day I wake up to a knock on the door and Liza barking her head off.
“Liza!” I yell from the bedroom, slipping on my robe over my flimsy camisole before heading out into the living room, where she’s barking furiously at the door.
“Stop losing your little doggy mind,” I say, stepping between her and the door. I shoo her away toward my mother’s room, but she doesn’t budge, stubborn as anything.
I put my hand on the doorknob, knowing I’m going to see either Harrison or Monica, and I’m at that stage now with both of them where I don’t really care if I have crazy bedhead and sleep in my eyes.
Actually, scratch that. I don’t want to look like a total troll if it’s Harrison. Just because we had sex doesn’t mean I’m about to let myself go.
I attempt to smooth down my hair, tighten my robe around me to make sure I don’t have a wayward boob slipping out from my camisole, and then open the door.
My heart leaps in my chest, doing that fluttery thing.
It’s Harrison.
And he’s smiling at me.
“Good morning,” he says, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes take me in, startling in their clarity, and holy hell, I am an absolute fool for this man and I know it. Think he might know it too.
“Good morning to you,” I tell him, leaning against the door. “You’re up early.”
“Part of the job,” he says. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, though.” He glances at his watch on his forearm. “It’s eight a.m. already.”
“You know, normal people wake up at eight a.m.”
“You’re calling yourself normal?” he asks with a sexy smirk, the kind I want to wipe off with my lips. Man, it’s like all the sexual tension since we slept together is only getting worse as the days go on, an itch that desperately needs to be scratched.
But I have a feeling Harrison isn’t here for a secret early-morning booty call, as much as my body is wishing he was.
“Speak for yourself,” I tell him.
“Listen, I’m heading into town today to pick up some things . . . thought maybe you’d like to join me.”
“You don’t even have to ask, you know. Just assume that whatever it is you’re doing, I’m on board. Want me to drive?”
He grins, making my stomach flip. He’s never going to stop having that effect on me, is he? “I have to say, it makes life a little more exciting when you do, love.”
Love? Did he just call me love?
Be still my heart.
I swallow, feeling goofy, giddy, all the good things. “I would have thought you’d want a break from excitement, being a bodyguard and all.”
He looks around him, the calm breeze ruffling the arbutus, the nuthatches chirping from the branches. “Yes, this place is nonstop excitement, isn’t it?”
“Let me get changed,” I tell him, about to head back inside. I pause. “Unless you want to help me?” I ask sweetly, batting my lashes.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, seeming to think. “I better not.”
“You sure about that?”
I flash him a coy smile and then open the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside.
He hesitates, eyeing Liza, who is sitting on the couch, staring at him. Then he cautiously walks inside after me, slips off his shoes. I gently close the door as his eyes flit to my mother’s bedroom, the door closed.
“She’s still sleeping, it’s fine,” I whisper to him, beckoning with my finger for him to follow me into the bedroom.
I close the door behind me, and as I’m turning around, Harrison’s hands go to my waist, holding me there, his lips pressed against mine. I’m back against the door, my mouth opening to his, the slick, hot pass of his tongue making me feel molten inside.