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“No one’s ever called me that except you.”
“That’s because you hide it well. You always have.” She gave me a meaningful glance. “Except with her, of course.”
I rocked back on my heels and hummed quietly. “So I’ve been told.”
She smiled. “Plus, you forget that I’m Greer’s mother, and I’m well-versed in spotting the sweet where it’s a little hidden.”
I barked out a laugh, and God, it felt good. The pressure holding my chest tight had eased, and I glanced at my watch.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I should get going. She’s at some dinner meeting thing, and I promised I’d be at the house when she got back.”
“The coach,” she mused.
I sighed wearily, and I briefly wondered if I had time for a nap before Harlow got home. No one warned me about the soul-draining tiredness that came with emotional epiphanies. “Does everyone know?”
“Of course everyone knows. I wouldn’t be shocked if your sisters planted a bug in your house so they could overhear what happens when she gets back.” At my dry look, Sheila laughed, then patted my arm. “I think it’s time for you to go home, Ian.”
Dropping a quick kiss on her cheek, I gave one last look at Dad’s headstone and swallowed hard. “I think so too.”
Getting back to the house didn’t take too long, and my body screamed for a hot shower. Let myself decompress a little bit, wash away the dull headache and tension in my neck and shoulders after holding everything in for so many days.
Then I could think about what I’d say to her.
With a tired sigh, I turned the truck into my driveway, but what I saw there had my gaze sharpening, my heart rocketing dangerously. Because beyond the familiar car parked in its usual spot, sitting on the front porch—very much not at dinner with the coach—was the woman who had my heart.
Chapter 30
Harlow
I had a whole speech prepared. It was a good one too.
Practiced it as I drove back from the restaurant, and the moment Ian got out of his car, his eyes burning into mine, every single thought fled from my brain like I’d never had the ability to string words together.
Behind my ribs, the thrashing of my heart was the only thing that kept me grounded in the moment.
Ian didn’t join me on the porch, not right away, crossing his arms and leaning his trim hips against the front of his truck while he studied my face.
“Quick dinner.”
My chin rose. “Never made it to the restaurant.”
His brow flattened, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Why not?”
The rough edge to his voice had me standing because it set off such a wild burst of energy under my skin that I couldn’t stay still anymore.
The delicate tension in the air felt close to shattering. I kinda wanted it to.
“Couldn’t get out of the car once I was in the parking lot.” My brows rose fractionally. “So I called Scott and had a little heart-to-heart about his dinner meeting.”
Ian didn’t ask what kind. He just continued watching me with a slightly wary, very intense look in his eyes.
“I asked him if he was hoping for our dinner meeting to turn into a date. Or the opportunity to ask for one.” I shrugged one shoulder, an oh-so-casual gesture that didn’t match the riot of nerves zapping through my veins. One would think I had conversations like this all the time, but I sort of felt like I was walking on a tightrope over the Grand fucking Canyon, my heart clutched in my hands so that I could offer it to him when I got to the other side. “To the surprise of no one, he was hoping for a romantic development.”
The change on Ian’s face was immediate, and it sent a white-hot thrill through me because stoic and brooding and thoughtful turned heated in an instant. Where his arms were crossed over his chest, there was a shift and tightening in the muscles.
“And?” he asked in a growly tone that had my lips twitching as I fought a smile.
