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Her eyes went wide with disbelief. She turned and straddled my lap. “When?”
“Mid-January or a bit later.”
“I knew it!” she said, hitting me on the chest. “I knew I was being watched that day! I felt…well, I felt you. I don’t know how to explain it, but I remember looking back down the walkway because I was so certain you were there. I didn’t see you, though.”
“I was hiding in the trees.”
She stared at me for a moment. “Hiding in the trees.” Then her eyes went wide again. “So you knew it was me all those times I wrote about you since then?”
I laughed and squeezed her ass. “I sure as hell did. Even went back and reread some of the older articles. I’ve got to say, my least favorite is the Master Baiter one.”
She brought her hand up to her mouth before she lost it laughing.
“You think that’s funny, huh?” I moved quickly and pinned her to the sofa while she laughed until tears trickled out. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.
When she finally stopped laughing, we stared into one another’s eyes.
She smiled. “I have to be honest and tell you that I laughed so hard writing that article. Then to hear what everyone said and sent to you afterwards…”
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Fucking Brody.”
Harlee fell into another round of laughter. But when I laid my body over hers, it faded away.
“Watching you the other night was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever seen, Harlee.”
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I felt the same way. I wanted you to come into the shower with me so badly.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “I thought you weren’t interested.”
“Far the fuck from it.” I leaned down and kissed her. Our tongues danced together in the most sensual rhythm, and I knew if we didn’t stop, I’d be taking her again. Chancing it once in her office was bad enough, but twice might be pushing our luck.
When I drew back from the kiss, I ran my finger down the side of her beautiful face. “There isn’t a day that’s gone by that I haven’t regretted lying to you that night.”
Her eyes bounced all over my face.
“I knew there was always something there,” I said. “I would get so damn jealous when I saw you with other guys. I felt things I couldn’t explain. And after making love to you over and over that night…you scared the living hell out of me, Harlee Tilson.”
She pressed her warm hand against my face and I leaned into it. “I probably shouldn’t admit this,” she said, “but I gave Jennifer chocolate laxatives on Thanksgiving.”
Shocked, I moved off her, and she scrambled into a sitting position.
“I had to stop three times when I was taking her home that night so she could use the bathroom! She blamed my mother’s cooking, said it gave her food poisoning.”
Harlee covered her mouth in an attempt not to laugh.
“How much did you give her?”
With a grin, she said, “She ate all six little squares. It kind of looked like half of a Hershey bar.”
“What?!”
She shrugged. “I told her it was chocolate from a friend of mine in Australia. I thought she’d take a bite and give it back to me. She ate the whole thing before I could stop her! So really, it was her fault for being a chocolate hog.”
“Oh my God, Harlee.”
She tried to keep her laugh in and failed. She laughed even harder when I joined in.
“Come here,” I said, pulling her back onto my lap. “Where do we go from here? Because I can tell you, now that I have you back, I’m not ever letting you go.”
Resting her head on my shoulder, she let out a contented sigh. “Before you and Beth walked in, I was about to tell my father I was done being Ms. Seaside.”
I studied her for a beat. “Harlee, you have to keep being Ms. Seaside.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“If you walk away now, people are going to put together the connection after that last article. No. You need to keep doing it. And I think we need to keep bantering back and forth.”
She gave me a disbelieving laugh. “So you want to keep doing the Friday column?”
I gave a small shrug. “I mean, it’s kind of cool. I love fishing, and I love teaching people about fishing. Your dad said I didn’t have to do it every Friday. Just what worked for me. And I think a few months of us—by that I mean, Ms. Seaside and me—going back and forth will be good for you and the paper.”
“Why do I have to keep writing it?”
“If you suddenly stop, people will think one of two things. One, you’re Ms. Seaside, or two, you ran to your daddy and complained about her, and he fired Ms. Seaside for writing about you. You need to keep going at least until your dad can transition someone else into the column. As hard as you went after Addie, Sutton, and Palmer…you need to do the same thing to yourself, Harlee. You’re practically a Bradley as it is, so it only makes sense Ms. Seaside would target you next.”
