for a minute. Annoyed. But then he said, ‘Fine. Don’t expect any special treatment. You won’t get it.’”
“Nice guy.” I shake my head. “Is he like that with your brother?”
“Oh, no way. Junior’s the family he always wanted. He loves him. Loved Sandy—that’s Junior’s mother.” Then raising a brow at me, I see a glint of humor in her eyes. “She left him.”
Serves the guy right. “Yeah?”
“For Gordon LeMere.”
I choke, eyes bugging wide. “The hockey player?” The guy was at the peak of his career in the early nineties, but he retired before I laced up my first pair of skates.
And then it clicks.
“Holy shit, Good Girl. You were really, really pissed when he gave that job to your brother.”
This time the laugh she gives up is pure Harlow. I reach for her and, pulling her into my lap, kiss the shriek off her lips. “So you’ve been using me this whole time, huh? Revenge is best served on a hockey stick?”
And now I get why she’d been so sure her father wouldn’t like me. Why seats to my game weren’t going to get her anywhere.
“I wasn’t planning to serve it at all. Knowing how much he’d hate it was enough.” Her arms link around my neck. “It was supposed to be a quiet, understated rebellion.”
“And then you woke up with a hangover from hell.”
“And you fast-talked me into coming with you anyway.” Her fingers sift into my hair. “Thank you, Wade.”
With Harlow in my arms like this, peering up at me with those big soulful sweet eyes, I’m the one who’s thankful. But not to her douche father, even if he’s the reason she said yes.
“I gotta ask. What are you doing working for him? You’re so damn smart, driven. You could do anything you wanted. Anywhere.”
The way she deflates in my arms makes me wish I could take it back, but I don’t get it. Anyone else would want her. Value her.
“I guess I keep hoping that one of these days I’ll have the chance to prove myself. And maybe if he can see what I’m capable of, he’ll realize he’s been missing out. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but he and Junior, as much of a troll as he is, are the only family I have. My mother’s parents were dead before she left for school. There aren’t any relatives.” She takes a shaky breath. “The closest thing to a family I have is the bank. I’ve put everything I am into it… and I’m not ready to walk away.”
Harlow
We spend the next two days running errands for the wedding, hopping from house to house and helping out wherever we can. I’ve made cookies with Grace and filled mesh bags of birdseed with Janie’s sisters while Wade worked with Walt and the guys, getting the space at the farm ready for the wedding and reception.
And around the myriad pre-wedding tasks, Wade keeps finding ways to get me alone. To pull me into his arms and tease me into the kind of breathless laughter I’ve never known.
It feels so good to be with him. So good to be a part of something. So good, that every time I think about what’s on the other side of Sunday… I just can’t.
I don’t want to waste a minute thinking about anything but how right everything feels now.
Hearing the thud of Wade’s truck in the drive, my heart skips and a hundred butterflies erupt into flight in my belly.
Grace pats my hand at her kitchen table where she’s been showing me the album from her wedding. “Go say hi, honey. I’m going to put these away.”
I’m out of my seat in a too-eager, too-obvious blink. “Be right back.”
She chuckles, waving me away. “Sure you will.”
Heat fills my cheeks as I push through the front door, this insane sense of urgency in my chest that’s begging me to move faster, get closer.
Wade’s halfway to the house. He looks up, our eyes meet, and he drops his bags as I fling myself into his arms. Laugh at the utter relief of having my body flush against his, the dizzying joy of him spinning me around, and the light in his eyes as he carries me back to the truck—to the far side of the truck—and kisses the life out of me. Gives me his tongue in slow, measured thrusts. Bunches my hair in his fists, pulling just enough to remind me of the night before.
The screen door closes at the house.