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With a frustrated sigh, I shove the blanket off me and scoot to the edge of the bed. Swinging my legs over, I snatch up the crutches leaning against the table and stand. I still think the crutches are overboard, but Juneau said I would likely tear open the stitches on my foot if I didn’t keep my weight off them.
“Mom!” I yell as I hobble out of the bedroom. “Mom!” I call out again over the shrill sound of drilling.
She doesn’t answer—probably because she can’t hear me. So I move down the hall to her bedroom.
“I told you not to worry about that window. I will take care of it before going to work!” I’m still shouting when I reach Mom’s bedroom. “Did you hear me, M—”
The last word dies on my lips when I see who is standing in my mother’s bedroom with a drill in hand, his back to me.
There is no mistaking the dark, messy hair and broad shoulders cased in a Fallen Ravens cut. All the air rushes out of my lungs. And, as if he can sense my presence, Harlem’s body stills. He turns in my direction, and I watch in total fascination as his eyes darken and his jaw clenches. His gaze slowly sweeps my body from head to toe, and I shiver. It’s also then I realize I’m wearing next to nothing.
In my defense, I was not expecting to find Harlem in my house first thing this morning, so it didn’t cross my mind to cover up. Pink stains my cheeks at the realization that I’m standing in front of Harlem wearing nothing but a white crop top tee with a pizza sauce stain on the front from last night’s dinner and my least sexy pair of black cotton panties. The kind of underwear you wear only because you haven’t done laundry in two weeks, and it’s the only clean pair. They are the type of panties that look two sizes too big because the elastic is shot, but they are also my most comfortable pair. And to my pure mortification, Harlem’s eyes land and stay glued to my chest, where my nipples peek through the thin layer of cotton.
A weird squeak slips past my lips, and Harlem’s eyes snap to my face.
“Jesus. I…you…” I stumble over whatever foolish thing is trying to make it out of my mouth. Then, to make matters worse, I try to turn to flee, only to get tripped up by the dang crutches.
My leg buckles. I close my eyes and brace for impact. A steel band wraps itself around my middle, and I’m hauled back against a hard chest.
“Watch it,” Harlem growls against my ear. Only instead of sounding worried, his tone is laced with annoyance.
My breathing is labored, as if I’ve just finished running a marathon. Harlem has yet to let go of me, and I swear I can feel him sniffing my hair while his thumb moves dangerously close to my nipple. I shiver.
A deep growl rumbles inside Harlem’s chest just before I escape his hold. I nearly topple again when he reaches out and grabs my biceps to steady me. When he thrusts the crutches toward me, I don’t waste a second getting away from him. God help me. I look like a fool, and I’m contemplating how I can go the rest of my days avoiding the man after that ridiculous scene that just played out.
When I reach my room, I shut the door before collapsing onto the bed and burying my face in my palms.
“I don’t think that could have gone worse,” I mutter. Then I think about staying in my room until Harlem leaves because there is no way I can face him after that little incident.
I jump when there is a knock at my door.
“Sukie?” my mom calls.
“Come in,” I answer.
She opens the door and greets me with a smile. “Hey, sweetheart. I thought I heard you.”
“Yeah, I’m up. It was hard to sleep with all the noise.”
My mom winces. “About that… Harlem just showed up and announced he was here to install the new window. That was nice of him.”
“It would have been nicer if he had waited until the sun was up and I had at least one cup of coffee,” I grumble.
Mom grins. “Well, he didn’t exactly ask permission, and I wasn’t going to tell him no.”
I sigh. “Sounds about right.”
“I’m making breakfast. Why don’t you get dressed and ask your friend if he wants to stay for some pancakes? It’s the least we can do for him, since he’s helping us.”
There goes my plan to hide out in my room until Harlem leaves. “Sure, Mom. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Taking a deep breath, I do my best to bury my embarrassment enough to sit through breakfast with the man who invades not only my dreams but pretty much every waking thought I have and try not to think about the fact he just saw me in my granny panties.
A few minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of black jeans and a burgundy t-shirt withBelladonna’sscrolled across the front of it. I don’t bother applying makeup and decide to leave my hair down today. I went to sleep with my hair wet and woke up to a mass of wavy locks that looked like I had put some effort into fixing it.
Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I grudgingly open my bedroom door and slowly walk down the hall toward the kitchen. When I turn the corner, the murmured conversation between Harlem and my mom stops. Harlem is wearing his usual look of indifference, but I ignore him and go straight to Mom, kissing her on the cheek.
“Sit down, baby girl, and I’ll fix you a plate,” she tells me.
