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“Romantic-plicated.”
“Like complicated?” I ask.
Wearing a faint smile, she nods.
I don’t think we’re on the path to simplifying the matter, either.
“Thanks for helping me with this PR patch-up,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
The banter that’s flowed so easily, so forcefully between us over the years seems to dam up or change course, and we both watch it as if we’re not sure what to say or do now.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m a no-strings kind of guy and no rings, so you’re not obligated to marry me like the whole Jayda thing. Hopefully, everyone’s attention will land on a juicier story before long.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I owe you an ice cream.” My stomach rumbles.
“How about dinner first?” Harley asks.
“Sure. We’ll go tothe Driftwood.”
We get up and start walking.
My thoughts from when I sat down on the bench catch up with me. “There’s just one more thing.”
“I thought you said no strings.”
“No. Not strings. More like?—”
“Of course, there’s more.” Harley sighs and her hair, painted by the soft rays of golden hour, glows.
But her smile isn’t tight like it was earlier when she ran into me—the kind of smile that told me the water was not under the bridge. Nope. That she’d just as soon see me drown in it. But this is a different kind of smile—the same one I imagined her wearing on prom night.
Maybe this is the start of something new for us.
First, I have to tell her about the tangled web.
Harley
CHAPTER 7
Whatever Ryan was going to tell me is forgotten as we walk to the Driftwood along the familiar seashell path.
He said there aren’t any strings, and maybe not, but there could be baggage, skeletons in his closet, or something I’m better off not knowing.
Truth is, I’m afraid to ask, so I change the subject. “Looks like Royal showed Hurricane Howie who’s boss.”
He tells me about how he was afraid Royal was going to tear the place down. “Or burn it to the ground.”
“He wouldn’t. This place is your family’s legacy.”
“He’s more of a build his own empire kind of guy.”
“In high school, he was voted most likely to be a mogul and make millions.”
Ryan laughs. “He made the yearbook committee correct it to billions.”
