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“Welcome back!” She pulls us both in for a hug, but the quick pats on the back tell me she’s running on all cylinders. “How was the hotel? It’s been years since I’ve been inside.”
“It’s perfect,” Harlow answers at the same time I say, “Pretty sure it hasn’t been updated in that long either. The pull-out is jacked—”
I cut off as Harlow grips my hand with bone-crushing strength. My mom’s brows knit into a tiny stitch.
Shit!
Mom swats my shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Okaaaay, Wade. Thank you for trying to protect me, but I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday. The pull-out? Please.”
She chuckles some more, like it’s all a big joke.
And then she’s towing us into the crowd where everyone wants to say hello, talk about the varsity football team coming up this year, and ask Harlow what she thinks of our town. With the bachelor and bachelorette parties tomorrow night, the energy is high and, pretty soon, I’m going one way while Harlow casts me a wink over her shoulder as Janie and my mom lead her another.
I try to keep an eye on her, make sure she isn’t getting overwhelmed. But every time I catch sight of her, she’s smiling wider than she was before. Her laughter’s freer. And hell, she’s more relaxed in this party full of strangers than she was when it was just the two of us with a room to ourselves at the Five Hole.
Relaxed looks good on her, but I try not to get caught up in it.
We’ve got more than a week of faking it ahead of us. I can’t afford to screw things up with this girl just because she’s got the kind of laugh that—
“Harlow seems nice,” Kelsey says from behind me.
Jesus. That fast, and every muscle down my spine is knotted tight. “Sorry, didn’t see you before.” I clear my throat. “But yeah, very.”
She steps into my side. Her arms are crossed, so there’s nothing overt about the way that she’s touching me. It’s just her shoulder making contact with my arm. Something you’d expect from old friends, maybe.
Only with Kelsey, that’s never all it is.
“You’re both staying at the hotel?”
Here it comes. “Yep. All checked in.”
A nod, and she turns away. But not before I see the flash of hurt.
Damn it.
“You could have stayed here. In your own room.”
No. I couldn’t. Not with a single wall between her and me. Not after last time. And not a discussion I’m having again now.
I give her a quick pat on the back and head over to my brother.
* * *
Harlow
Wade makes a prettydecent fake date. No matter how many times we get pulled away during the evening, he always finds his way back. Dropping a kiss at my cheek and asking how things are going as he slides an arm around my lower back. Joining whatever conversation I’m caught up in and somehow finding a way to tease and flirt more laughter out of me than I’ve given up in the last year. Maybe ever.
He’s sweet and fun, and the way he loves his family? It kind of melts my heart. I can’t even imagine what growing up like this would have been like.
For my part, I remember his name, welcome those shows of attention like a champ, and add my own bit of physical fiction when I can. My signature move is the center-chest pat. I saw Janie doing it with Walt earlier, and I liked the sweetly affectionate quality of it. It’s not like I’m feeling up his pecs or abs, or patting his ass—which I also saw Janie do.
We stay at the Gradys’ until close to eleven. It practically takes swearing on a stack of bibles, but I finally convince Grace I’m not just being polite and would love to help. So next week, I’ll be joining her in making cookies for the dessert table and some last-minute set-up while Wade handles his best-man duties and some manual labor at the hobby farm where the wedding and reception are being held. It’s perfect.
I swan back into the kitchen where Wade is drying dishes with a white cloth he flips over his shoulder at my approach.
“See this?” I wave my list like a victory flag.
Setting a platter aside, he rounds the island and takes it from my hand. “Look at your bad self.”
