Page 29 of Harley

“Yeah, there’s a lot. Peyton is the baby,” I said, smiling at my little sister and her huge grin.

“She is beautiful… and so is she. That’s Serenity, the model, right?” Oakley replied, touching a picture of me and Serenity. It was taken last year, and we were hugging each other with our heads turned to the camera.

“Yeah, Serenity’s fuckin’ stunning,” I replied softly, picking up the photo.

“Yeah. Harley, how can you marry me when she is your girlfriend? Won’t she get upset?” Oakley asked.

I chuckled. It seemed Oakley had forgotten I had told her Serenity was family.

“Serenity is liable to kick the ever-loving shit out of me for not telling her. But remember, she’s not a girlfriend but my sister,” I answered.

“Oh,” Oakley muttered and blushed.

I enjoyed that little kick of jealousy in Oakley’s eyes and suddenly realised there was a lot I liked about her. And that meant a shitload of trouble for me.

Chapter Six.

Oakley

Iwas a little perplexed when Harley dashed out of his room, muttering about drinks. Gingerly, I moved over to the bed and settled down.

Harley hadn’t answered me where he’d been sleeping, but I was hoping he was not expecting to share with me. Married, we might be getting, but I wasn’t ready to sleep with him—no matter how attractive he was.

And damn, he did get my hormones tingling.

No. Harley was a really decent guy helping somebody out. Harley wasn’t interested in me, and I shouldn’t go looking for something that doesn’t exist. This was a temporary thing. Hell, I didn’t know where I was going to live once I was married. Harley and I hadn’t discussed that.

Someone knocked, and then an older man entered. He stopped when he saw me, and I gaped at him.

“Where’s Harley?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“He left to get drinks,” I replied, backing into the corner of the bed.

The guy’s gaze swept me up and down. “You’re not planning on staying the night? Barflies ain’t allowed.”

His voice held a tone of derision, which I did not like. There was an implied insult in barfly, and I didn’t quite understand it. I did know I didn’t have to suffer this.

“I’ll leave. That’s no skin off my nose. Could you pass me the chair?” I asked as I shifted to the edge of the bed.

The guy peered around, spotted the wheelchair, and stared at me. “You need help?”

“No.”

His eyes raked the room and landed on my suitcases and bags. His brow furrowed, and then he looked back at me again. This time, he took longer to study me, and I squirmed. His eyes warmed, and a smile broke out across his face.

Wow, he might be an asshole, but he was a damn good-looking one.

“You’re not a barfly,” he stated.

“I don’t know what that is,” I responded, “but Harley’s a friend.”

“Really. Funny how I’ve never seen you before,” the guy murmured, his keen gaze raking me over.

“Why would you?” I demanded.

“Because I’m his father.”

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed and looked at him, horrified.

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