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“I bet you’ve followed my career.” I wink.
“I work in a sports bar, so it’s hard to avoid the oh-so-special star player of the Riptide.”
“And yet you’ve been avoiding me.”
I slide a chair aside and step into Harley’s space.
She steps back. I shift closer.
“Ryan, is it too much to suggest that you amend your player ways?”
“Play as in the game? Football? Never.”
“As in dating a new woman every night.”
So, she has been paying attention. I’m not proud of this, but it’s hard to say no. Especially to Harley. But she also brings out the worst in me. “Okay, Mom. Glad you’re looking out for me to find someone special and settle down.”
As soon as the wordmomis out of my mouth, we both bristle. Hers left when she was little and mine was lost in a boating accident.
After a beat, Harley looks up at me, eyes searching mine. “You have my advice. Take it or leave it.”
In her tone, I hear a slight emphasis on the word leave. Which makes me want to stay. Everything about Harley demands that I be a contrarian, to do the opposite. But a text from my agent suggested I find someone, anyone, to marry, which is not what I was doing before the Websters came along with the marriage proposal to their daughter.
“You’re suggesting I get in a relationship and settle down?”
“Sow those wild oats and make yourself a bowl of porridge.”
I stick out my tongue. “Too bland.”
“Not the way I make it. It’s one of Luke’s favorite breakfast items. Granted, he ends up wearing half of it,” she says offhandedly.
“Luke?”
She busies herself, making a fuss by moving around the tables. Maybe she didn’t hear me or I misheard her.
“I have an idea,” I say as the second one takes shape.
Harley goes still as if she senses my terribly wonderful idea involves her.
“Other than Jayda, I don’t have any prospects?—”
“There are about a dozen women on this island alone that would line up to spend their lives with you.”
“There are only twelve women total on this island.” I list the Rosies, Mrs. Cross, Mrs. Lipman, Robyn, Isla, Lally... “Does that mean you too?”
This time Harley sticks out her tongue. “Gag. No way. Weirdo.”
“What’s wrong with me?” I ask, affronted.
“It’s notyou.”
I chuckle. “Don’t you dare use the classically cringy it’s not you, it’s me line.”
“No, Ryan. It’s not you, it’sus. We would never work.” She speaks with finality, but that suddenly makes me want to prove her wrong, so I outline my proposal that we show the world what a wonderful couple we could be.
Harley
CHAPTER 5
