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Harlow
Ryker had spent every night for the past week over at her house. They went to work together every night and went home to her place after the bar closed. Most nights, Iris was in her bed while Gloria Jean waited up for them on the couch. The toddler continued to insist that she wanted her own bed, and her grandmother would end up carting her back over to Harlow’s house, but her poor mother was looking worn down and tired.
“Mama, you can’t keep waiting up for us. It’s so late,” Harlow said.
“Well, if you can get your daughter to stay over at my place, we’d both be asleep right now. She insists on sleeping in her big girl bed though,” Gloria Jean said.
“What does she sleep in at your place?” Ryker asked.
“We still have a crib up over there,” she said.
“I’d be happy to help switch out the bed for you. That way, you won’t have to stay up so late every night waiting for us to get home,” Ryker offered.
“That might just work, Mama,” Harlow said. “If she has a big girl bed over at your place, she won’t insist on coming back here every night for bed. It’s worth a try.”
“I guess it is,” Gloria Jean agreed. “The crib can convert to a toddler bed, just like the one upstairs. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand, I’d appreciate it,” she said.
“No problem at all. I’ll come over after lunchtime; let you sleep in a bit,” Ryker said.
“That works for me,” she said. “I’m going home, I’m beat. Good night.” Harlow kissed her mother goodnight and watched as she made her way over to her own home.
“Have you told her why I’ve been staying here with you?” Ryker asked.
“I did,” she said. “I only gave her the need to know facts. But she said that she appreciates you helping to keep me and Iris safe.”
“I’m glad that you told her,” he said. “That way, she can keep an eye out for trouble when we’re not here. Should I put one of my guys over here to watch her and Iris while we’re at work?” he asked.
“You know my Mama well enough now to know that she can handle herself. Hell, she’s a better shot than most men I know,” Harlow said.
“Well, that would have been useful information to have when she was holding a shotgun pointed at me,” he teased.
“She wouldn’t have shot you,” Harlow assured. “I was standing too close to you, and she wouldn’t have chanced hitting me.” She giggled at the look he gave her. She was beginning to really like Ryker and having him around her place felt right, but he didn’t make a move and she was sure that his whole, “I’m not interested in her,” stance still stood.
“I’m going up to bed,” he said.
“Ryker,” she said, reaching her hand out and putting it on his forearm, stopping him from going up the stairs to bed. “Do you still find me uninteresting?” she boldly asked.
“What?” he questioned.
“You know, you told Taz that you’re not interested in me. Do you still feel that way?” she asked.
“Harlow,” he mumbled. “Can we do this another time?” he asked.
“When?” she questioned. She was pretty sure that his answer was going to be a resounding, “Never,” but she wouldn’t accept that answer from him.
“Of course, I’m interested in you, Harlow,” he growled. “You have a mirror—you’re beautiful. But you are too young for me.” He had no idea what her mirror showed her every time she looked into it. All she saw now was her scar and the only reason he didn’t see that was because she did a damn good job of hiding it from the world.
“That’s bullshit,” she said, skipping the part about her having a mirror and being beautiful. She jumped right to the part that he was wrong about. She wasn’t too young for him. “I’m old enough to have had a kid and old enough to know that I want you, Ryker.”
“All that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m thirty-four and you’re just twenty-one. Hell, I’m probably closer to your mom’s age than yours,” he said. Harlow wasn’t about to admit that he was correct. He was only five years younger than her mother, but the thought of her mother with Ryker made her sick. The thought of Ryker with any other woman besides her made Harlow want to beat the crap out of something—and she wasn’t a violent person.
“Judging by the look on your face, I’m right. Listen, I don’t have to stand here and explain myself to you, Harlow. You’re too young for me and that’s that.”
“What?” she asked. “You’ve made the rules and now, everyone else has to just accept them?” she asked. “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, honey. You of all people should know that,” he said, looking the left side of her face over. She gasped and took a step back from him, cupping her hand to her cheek.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Ryker said. “I can’t do this anymore.” He walked up the steps, his heavy boots making a loud thud on every tread. Had he noticed her scar? He’d tried to push her hair back from her face a few times, but had he actually gotten a glimpse of it? Maybe she wasn’t as good as she thought she was at hiding it.
