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She grabs my arm. “You can’t beat a reporter up. He’s only saying that shit to get a rise out of you, and I’ve heard worse. I’ll be fine.”
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that. It’s fucking wrong, Harlow. Butler screwed you over, and I’m going to set the record straight.”
“You’ll just fan the flames.”
“Your ex shouldn’t be the only one who says his piece, especially when it’s all lies. I’ve been silent because I don’t care what they write about me. They’ve been doing it for years. But you got dragged into this tabloid shit because I wasn’t thinking. It’s my fault, so I’m going to stop it.”
“Please let it go.” She bites her lip. “For me.”
When she asks like that, I can’t be the asshole who makes a stink, even if it’s for the good cause of defending her.
“Why?”
“They’re not worth it, and I can fight my own battles. I want to look forward, not back. Arguing with them just mires us in the past and drags us down.”
I grip the wheel until my knuckles are white. “I don’t like this for you. You’re not fame-seeking and you’re not a whore. Goddamn it.”
Her fingers on me gentle. “And I’m touched that you want to defend me. But they’re like a schoolyard bully, right? If we ignore them, they eventually go away. The minute we give them something to talk about, they sink their teeth in. Really. Just leave it. Besides, Simon is looking to save face, so he’s putting the blame for his shit on me. I’m sure he hopes that will protect his precious reputation. Honestly, if that’s all it takes so he never darkens my door again, I can live with whatever these guys write about me.”
Letting out a frustrated breath, I stare her way. Harlow is right, but I don’t like it. I want to beat the shit out of anyone who maligns her. But my impulse to defend her really only gives her situation more heat and Butler’s claim more credibility.
I put the SUV in drive and crack the window. “No comment.”
As I raise the glass on their shouting, I rev the car. The idiots lingering in the road are finally smart enough to jump out of the way. And as soon as we’re clear, I step on the gas and we lurch forward.
“Thank you,” she says softly, trailing her palm down my arm to hold my hand. “You did good.”
I squeeze her fingers. “I don’t want to upset you, baby. I just—”
“I know. And it’s very chivalrous. But we have more important things to do. And far more fun.”
Since she doesn’t give me much choice, I let the drama go. “You going to tell me what we’re doing now?”
“Nope. But I’ll tell you where to go. Head toward Haleakala. Once we’re in the vicinity, I’ll give you more specific directions.”
“You really are enjoying the upper hand,” I accuse.
“Totally.”
Her smile sparkles and for the moment before I merge into traffic, I simply stare. She’s wearing only sunscreen and lip gloss. There’s nothing remotely sexy about her athleisure outfit and sturdy sneakers. Yet I’m thinking she’s one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever met. It’s not her physical beauty, per se. I’ve dated actresses and models galore in the past. Country and pop singers. Even a porn star. They were pretty and all that. But Harlow is lovely from the inside out. There’s a vitality about her that’s bright and glowing and irresistible.
I’m sounding sappy and I need to stop.
After she rattles off a series of directions, I find myself at the top of a tall crater. The landscape here is more desert-like than tropical. There’s a guy waiting for us next to a tall pole with cables and harnesses attached.
My gut tightens. “We’re zip-lining?”
“We are.”
“How are you going to assess me while we’re doing this?”
“We’re doing it in tandem. More than a few times. Are you afraid of heights?”
“They aren’t my favorite thing,” I hedge. Actually, I’m somewhat terrified.
“Good. Hopefully this will be effective.”
I don’t really want to know how much this is going to cost me, both in money and guts. But none of that matters, I suppose, if Harlow is able to isolate my issue and help me. “All right. Let’s do this thing.”
