“So did he really toss you over his shoulder?” she asks dreamily, and I laugh so hard my body shakes.
“Yes, he really did.”
“Wow.” She grins, and I roll my eyes at her then watch Harlen come back out of the bedroom dressed.
“You gonna stay for breakfast, Sophie?” he asks, and she turns her smiling eyes to him.
“I’d love to.”
“Good,” he says softly, and then his eyes come to me. “Babe, you wanna feed Dizzy while I cook?”
“Sure.” I hop down off the stool, informing my mom, “Harlen bought the whole grocery store yesterday.”
“Did he?” she asks, looking between the two of us.
“Yeah, now I won’t be able to have takeout for at least a month, and I love takeout.”
“Worse things a man can do than keep your fridge stocked and your belly full,” Mom mummers, smiling into her coffee mug, and I feel Harlen’s fingers give my hip a squeeze, so I turn my attention to him.
“You gonna bitch about me, or are you gonna help me out by feeding your dog?”
“I’m going to help you out, and you shouldn’t curse in front of my mom,” I tell him, resting my hand on my hip, and his eyes drop there and I watch his lips twitch.
“Know your dad and your brothers, Angel. Doubt your mom hasn’t heard worse.”
“This is true,” she confirms.
“Whatever, still,” I huff.
His fingers dig into my hip then he lowers his head and kisses me hard and quick.
“Feed your dog,” he orders as he lets me go.
“Bossy,” I grumble under my breath, and I hear my mom laugh, which makes me smile. I look at her and see her eyes are soft, not on me but on Harlen. One down, one to go.
Chapter 6
Harmony
“SAID I’D GIVE HER YOUR message,” I hear Harlen clip angrily as I walk toward the kitchen, where I left him a little over fifteen minutes ago so I could go get changed for work. “Yeah, and I said I’d tell her,” he growls as I round the island. Sensing me like he always does, his head turns toward me and our eyes lock. “Yeah, later.” He pulls his cell phone from his ear and drops it to the top of the counter near his hip.
“Who was that?” I ask, seeing the pissed off look on his face and knowing the answer before he even opens his mouth to tell me who was on the phone.
“Your dad says you need to call him back, that if you don’t, you won’t like the consequences.”
“He said that?” I whisper, feeling annoyance turn my stomach, and his face softens.
“Babe, I get why you haven’t talked to him, but you need to speak to him.”
“I’m not ready to talk to him yet,” I say, tying my hair up into a ponytail, and he takes a step toward me, wrapping his hand around my hip and giving it a squeeze.
“It’s been a week, Angel,” he tells me, something I already know, since it’s the longest I’ve ever gone without talking to my dad. It’s been exactly seven days since my mom came over and stayed for an impromptu waffle breakfast cooked by Harlen. If he hadn’t already won my mom over, I know his waffles would have done the trick. They’re that good. My dad, however, is a whole other story. He’s called; I haven’t answered. He’s kept calling; I’ve kept ignoring him, which I know is pissing him off. But I need time to figure out how to deal with him without losing my mind and saying something I’ll regret. “Seriously, baby, it’s time,” he continues when I don’t reply.
“Whose side are you on?” I narrow my eyes on his and he grins, showing off his perfectly straight smile.
“Your side,” he says, pulling me against him. “That said, you still need to speak with your dad.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll tell him to meet me for coffee tomorrow.”
“Good.” He dips his head, brushing his mouth over mine. “You want me to go with you when you talk to him?”
“Will you beat him up if I ask you to?” I question, and he chuckles like I’m joking—which I’m not, since my dad might actually need some sense knocked into him.
“No.”
“Then no, since you’re going to be of no use to me,” I mutter, and he gathers me against him and shoves his face into my neck, laughing so hard my body shakes with the force of it. “It’s not really that funny.” I smile, and he gives me a squeeze and gets control of himself before pulling his face out of my neck to look at me, running his fingers along the apple of my cheek.
“Before you leave for work, pack a bag. We’re staying at my place tonight,” he orders, and I blink at him.
“Your place?”
“Yeah, the place I’m paying rent on, where I keep my clothes and get my mail. My place.”