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The women exchange another glance, this one full of secrets.
“There’s probably more. Keep digging,” Britta suggests. “Harlow hasn’t opened up to either of us, so I can’t say exactly what’s going on with her. It may be simply a case of growing up in a house without much emotion. At least I hope that’s all it is.”
“Or it may be far worse,” Keeley suggests. “For us, understanding the family dynamic was critical to understanding our husbands. But let me give you a suggestion: don’t go there unless you’re really, truly serious. Opening Harlow up won’t be easy, not if she’s anything like Maxon and Griff.”
Britta nods emphatically. “You have to be invested before she’ll even consider letting you behind her barriers, so if you’re just going to leave, have mercy on her and simply enjoy what she can give you for the time you two have together. Don’t push for more.”
They’re serious. This issue with Harlow—whatever it is—extends to the whole family. I already knew it wasn’t simply Simon breaking her heart, but thought maybe it was her pride. Or maybe that she hadn’t met anyone she could fall for yet. But to hear that her avoidance of feeling has possibly been going on for decades, that she’s never learned to bare herself to anyone except sexually…
I blow out a breath. “I understand. Thanks. One more question, if you don’t mind. How did you finally reach Maxon and Griff?”
“I walked away,” Keeley said softly. “I couldn’t live with someone who couldn’t share his whole self with me. He still doesn’t like yoga and he’s been very slow to warm to the whole vegan thing, but I can handle that. I couldn’t handle being in the same bedroom with him when he wasn’t willing to touch me with his heart, too.”
“Griff and I were separated for three years,” Britta put in softly. “He left me abruptly one day after hearing some news and assuming the worst. It took him finding out that we had a son together before he finally started asking himself some hard questions. The Reeds are stubborn and suspicious. They have a million ways to make you feel special one minute and like a stranger the next. If you decide you want to proceed, Harlow won’t make anything easy on you. If she’s been through half of what Maxon and Griff have, she won’t open up and let you in without a fight.”
When Keeley hands me a drink, I gulp half of it down. Holy shit, I have a lot of thinking to do. “Thanks for the insight.”
“Our husbands could tell you more,” she suggests.
But will they? “We’re not exactly pals so far.”
“Just like Harlow, you have to give them time. If you treat their sister right, they’ll come around.”
“Eventually,” Britta adds. “We’ll rope Harlow in for some girl time after dinner. Why don’t you talk to Maxon and Griff then?”
A firing squad sounds almost as fun. But the ladies have shared with me all they can…or will. Now it will be up to me to persuade Harlow’s brothers that I’m not a creeper or a douche simply out to bag their sister. At the thought of two-on-one time with them, my stomach starts seizing up. I begin to sweat.
This could be a long fucking night.
Dinner was excellent, dessert even better. I’m mentally counting the hours I’ll need to pound in the gym to work off this much rich food when Keeley and Britta both leave the dinner table and start collecting plates. Harlow rises to help.
Then the predators pounce.
“Get your ass up and come with us,” Griff growls in my ear as he leaves his chair and passes mine.
I glance over at Maxon. He’s wearing an impatient scowl that says he’s just been waiting for the opportunity to sink his teeth into me. Griff’s expression is equally fierce.
So the smiles and jokes over dinner were all a show for the women. Now it’s time for the lightning questions and the ass kicking I’ve been dreading.
With a sigh, I rise and debate what the hell I’m going to say. I won’t win any brownie points with the dour brothers by spewing shiny bullshit.
As I follow them to the lanai, they drop into a pair of chairs facing the wicker sofa. There’s a table dividing the room, and the situation feels totally like a them-versus-me thing. Like I’m on trial, and they’re the judges, jury, and executioners.
I sink to the spongy couch cushions. “Before you say anything, I’ll tell you why I hired Harlow if you can keep a secret.”
That seems to catch them off guard.
“We can. Shoot,” Maxon demands.
I take a deep breath, swallow, try to keep my head from getting fucked up. “I hired your sister to help me with some speech issues.”
“Bullshit.” Griff nearly lunges out of his chair. “I’ve seen your press conferences for years. You’ve never had any problem. Besides, you’re not going to convince me that you haven’t fucked my sister seven ways from Sunday. I saw you two that morning. I saw her big sex hair. I saw the whisker burns on her neck. I saw the way you touched her. So don’t give me a story about some platonic crap that—”
“I’m not. I’m telling you that since my last major concussion I’ve had speech issues. Right now it’s hard to talk to you, and I’m doing everything I can to hold my shit together. I can’t function like this long-term, and I think Harlow can help. The fact that I’m trusting you with this information when it could ruin me should tell you that I’m serious about understanding her. I need your help. So far, I’m lost.”
“If she’s merely helping you, why do you need to decipher our sister?” Maxon snaps.
“Like Griff pointed out, we have more than a professional relationship. I really like your sister. I’m wondering if there’s something more between us than a therapeutical rapport and a hot summer. She won’t talk about that possibility, and Butler isn’t the problem.”
