Page 87 of Catch You

She leans over me, forcing me to rest back on my elbows.

“But I’m pretty sure none of them could make me scream like you did last night.”

“Damn fucking straight.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Good to know. So, back to my original question.”

“How are you going to drive me to work without a car?”

“I’m going to drive you in yours,” I say with a shrug, like it’s obvious.

Pushing from the bed, I tug on a pair of trousers followed by a clean T-shirt, and I’m ready to go.

“Is that it? Is that all you do in the mornings?”

“What? I had a shower and brushed my teeth, too.”

“It should be illegal to look that good with that little effort.”

“What should be illegal is any other man getting to see just how hot your arse is in this dress.” I pull her to me and squeeze it hard.

“Ow,” she complains.

“Nice try. We both know you loved it. Now, come on. We can pick up breakfast on the way.”

She smiles at me before I turn and leave her in the bedroom.

If someone had told me that I’d wake up feeling this alive, this happy, after the heavy conversations that happened between us last night, I’d have said they were an idiot. But that’s exactly how this morning feels, and I know Harlow is thinking the same. It’s right there in her chestnut eyes.

She feels lighter, having told me everything she went though. I can see it’s no longer resting heavy on her shoulders.

I’m sure, like me, there’s more to her story. I doubt she was taken in by Brooke’s parents and suddenly had the perfect life.

“Let’s go, then,” I say when she joins me.

“Shit, I didn’t tidy up,” she mutters, looking around the living area and kitchen at the mess we made last night.

“There’s always time for that later. Come on, we don’t want you being late.”

After texting Laura an order to go, we make a quick pit stop at her diner before heading farther into town. I follow the signsfor the Crown Arena, and she points to her parking space once I’m there.

“What are you doing?” she asks when I kill the engine and go to get out with her.

“It’s your car. I’m leaving it with you.”

“But you work on the other side of town.”

“It’s fine. I’ll grab an Uber.”

“Take it.”

“But—”

“No buts.” She rests her hand on my thigh, and the heat burns through the fabric of my trousers. “If you’re done in time, come and pick me up, or just message if you’re not and I’ll find another way home.”

“No, I can’t?—”

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