She Loves Me (Harmony Pointe #3) - Melissa Foster Page 0,89
without facing it head-on.
Facing it head-on meant admitting a weakness. A big one.
“I’ve never been in John’s shop,” Harley said. “I’m glad you suggested it.”
She nodded, stewing over the images of Harley and Heaven she’d invented.
He reached across the seat and ran his hand down her arm. “Why do you look pissed?”
“If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”
He laughed. “I kind of like being alive.”
She glanced at him quickly as she drove, then focused on the road. “I like you alive, too.”
“Wait. Do you hear that?” He cupped his ear and tilted his head. “I think I heard a wall crumbling down.”
She laughed softly and said, “Don’t push your luck, Dutch.”
“Oh, I’m pushing it.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I’m going to push it good.”
She turned down the driveway toward Loves’ Orchard, her nerves rattling more as she drove past the fruit and vegetable stand, nearing his shop. Two of the Loves’ dogs were sleeping beneath the shade of a large tree. She followed the road past a row of fruit trees, telling herself she was being juvenile even thinking about Harley and Heaven. But when she turned down the road that led to John’s shop, she felt like she might burst.
She pulled over and put the truck into park before reaching the shop, turned in her seat, and blurted out, “This will make me sound pathetic and jealous, and maybe I am, but I have to know. And I realize this is stupid, but it is what it is, and all this couple stuff is new for me, so I’m just going to say it. Did you and Heaven hook up?”
An incredulous sound fell from his lips, and he shook his head. “What? When?”
“When she was a senior in high school.”
“Seriously?” Amusement rose in his eyes.
“I know how pathetic it is for me to ask, but you’ve fucked with my head, Harley. I can’t stop picturing you doing all the things to her that you did to me. And that’s your right. You can mess around with anyone you want to. I just think if I knew for sure, I could put it away, you know? Compartmentalize it in my head so I could stop thinking about it. So, did you hook up with her?”
“Define hook up.”
“Please don’t fuck with me, Harley. She calls you the Muff Marauder. I guess I should have known you had. Forget it.”
“Whoa. She calls me what?”
“The Muff Marauder because you have such a big dick.”
“Holy . . . I thought only guys made up shit like that.” He turned toward her with a serious look in his eyes, holding her gaze. “I’ve got nothing to hide. One weekend when I was home from college, I met your brother and Zane at a party. She was there, and we got to talking. I gave her a ride home, and we made out, but I never even felt her up. She was looking to get laid, and I told you before, I’m not into meaningless sex and I wasn’t back then, either. She got pissed and stormed out of the car. I had no idea she’d said we did anything.”
“Well, she didn’t explicitly say you had sex . . .”
“It doesn’t matter whether she implied it or you jumped to that conclusion. I want to clear it up. I made out with girls when I was in high school, but I’ve only had sex with two women from Sweetwater. One of them moved away when I was a senior in high school, and I’m looking at the other. Like you, the people I’ve slept with aren’t living in our gossip-filled town. I’ve dated a few women from—”
“Don’t tell me any more. I only wanted to know about her because she’s my friend. How do you know the people I’ve slept with don’t live here?”
“Because I have ears and eyes, and if you think the Sweetwater gossip is only prevalent among the women, you’re treacherously wrong. The pub is like a feeding ground for gossipers. Besides, I didn’t know a single one of the guys you met there for your dates, except Zane’s assistant the year he was filming that movie in town before he gave up acting. That shaggy-haired, chisel-faced, tatted-up guy.”
“Patch Carver,” she said, remembering how she’d gone to use the bathroom that night, and when she’d returned, she’d heard Harley in his office telling Patch that if he laid a hand on