SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,40
Mad.
His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. “What’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” she said quickly.
“Harp.” His head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “Is this becoming weird?”
“No.” It jumped out.
“Then sit down,” he said, gesturing. “Eggs and bacon?”
She couldn’t eat. As a matter of fact, she felt sick. “I’m not very hungry.”
Still, he pulled out a chair for her, watched her take it. “Toast,” he said, turning back to the counter.
Then he spun back around. “Harp.”
She looked up. “Yes?”
“Are you worried? Your face says you’re worried.”
“It’s not that.” She hauled in a breath.
He yanked out the chair beside hers, sat, dropped to it then took one of her hands in both of his. “Look, I know this isn’t going anywhere, okay?”
“Um…”
“Because you’re going away again, right? Just like before.”
She gazed down at their hands. His cradling hers like a dream that needed to be protected from harm. “Right,” she said, her voice faint. “Going away again.”
He released her and got to his feet. Smiling. Carefree. “Toast.”
Her arm lifted, reaching for him. “Mad…”
Busy with the small appliance, he didn’t turn. “Yeah?”
Her arm dropped. In her back pocket, her phone rang.
She fumbled for it, answered, heard her mother’s voice. “Mom?” Harper said. “What is it?”
“You didn’t come home last night.”
“Yes. But I texted. You weren’t concerned, were you?” Her mother wasn’t the kind to insert herself into her grown daughter’s life. “As I told you, Sophie asked me to stay over.” Her gaze caught Mad’s who had glanced over his shoulder. His expression amused, he just shook his head.
“Say hello to her for me.”
“All right.”
“Say hello to Sophie,” her mom repeated.
Harper closed her eyes and pitched her voice louder. “Mom says hi, Sophie.” Luckily, she also put her hand over the phone’s microphone, because Mad started laughing.
Her quelling look didn’t quell him.
So she stalked out the kitchen door to stand on the back stoop, taking in the small and tidy yard. “So why are you calling, Mom?”
“Um… What vehicle did you drive to Sophie’s?”
“I came home from the beach in Grandpop’s truck but I took my car when I went out again.”
“Oh. I guess that’s good,” her mother said.
“Why?”
“Well, then we know where your car is,” her mom replied in a chirpy voice.
Harper frowned, considering the implications. “Which car is missing?”
“Truck. Um, Grandpop’s truck.”
“What?”
“He came outside this morning and it wasn’t parked in the usual spot.”
“I did leave it there,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Mike didn’t take it?”
“No. Doesn’t seem so.”
Damn. Harper began to turn, began to open her mouth to tell Rebecca she was ready to report the theft to Mad, when she realized she wasn’t supposed to be with Mad.
“Are you okay, Harper? You’ve gone quiet.”
“I’m just trying to figure this out. Is Grandpop going to call the police?”
“Well…”
Harper rolled her eyes. “When they stop by to take a report, they won’t come with a search warrant, Mom. Grandpop has to know that contacting the authorities doesn’t invite the erosion of his civil liberties.”
“He has his pride, honey. And there’s a chance one of the part-time hands borrowed it or something like that. He wouldn’t want to get them in any trouble.”
“They would have had to hot-wire it.”
“Well…”
“I’m on my way back to the farm,” Harper decided.
“You don’t want a leisurely morning? A chance for brunch with your best pal?”
Through the kitchen door window, Harper took in Mad, all those muscles, hands, arms, legs, lips. The man she was in love with.
I know this isn’t going anywhere, okay?
She knew. So their time together in bed would just remain that memory she’d been after, nothing more.
A new memory, that, unfortunately for her, she suspected would be as unforgettable as the old ones.
Chapter Nine
After Harper left, Mad finished eating his breakfast alone. The quiet of the house seemed to press in on his ears and he wondered if he needed to get that dog after all. Someone to be home with would be nice. A new focus for his thoughts. A being to speak to.
“Hey, Gaucho!” He tried it out. Gaucho always seemed like a good dog name to him.
“Breeze, come here, boy.” That was another he’d toyed with. Not quite right, he decided, frowning.
“Huck! A walk and a park are waiting.” He smiled. Yeah, very nice. Huck. His dog Huck. Mad took his plate to the sink, washed it along with his fork and knife, then looked around the kitchen, wondering where he was going to hang the leash.