Page 70 of Her Filthy Grump
I snort. “See, you weren’t doing anything.”
“Yes, I was. I was working but thank God you gave me an excuse to get up. I told my boss it was an emergency.” She sighs, “I love my job, but Mr. Dickerson is a pompous ass. He could bore an accountant.”
“I’m sorry. I finally received a message from Mrs. Thomas. She would love a photoshoot with you and Cole.”
“I….” she sputters, and then there’s dead silence.
“Harbor?”
“Y-yes. I’m here.” Her voice is husky as if she’s afraid someone’s listening. Granted, she’s at work, so anyone could be within earshot, at least on her end of the conversation. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. It’s just pictures.” I wait.
Harbor’s been in love with Cole since we were in grade school, but her brothers have always made it known that they don’t want their friends poaching on their sister. Especially, someone like Cole, who’s a bad boy player. However, I question how bad of a bad boy he is. Cole is sweet as pie.
“Fine. You’re right. It’s not a big deal.” She pauses as if she’s straightening her shoulders and preparing for battle. I don’t dare tell her what type of photos Mrs. Thomas wants. “When do we do this?”
“I’ll get with Cole, and we’ll set a date.”
My dad steps out on the porch and waves. “Hi,” I mouth as I wait for Harbor to respond.
“That’s fine, but if he doesn’t want to do it. With me. I mean. Shit. I don’t mean if he wants to do it with me. Damn. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll talk to you later.” They need to get together already and get it on.
The hot sun burns my skin. Kameron and his wicked tongue and hard body have me melted in a puddle of lust.
But that’s not his only appeal. I cherish his openness with me, willingness to share those painful memories from his childhood, and the way he hangs on my every word. And I sure can’t forget how he makes me breakfast or all the extracurricular kitchen sex we’ve had.
I fan myself as memories of his pelvis slamming into my ass as I lay over the island flash through my mind.Lord, have mercy.
“Layla, are you coming?”
Fuck.My entire body shudders.You don’t know how close.I glance down at my phone.Crap.I click it off and smile at my dad. “Sorry, Dad.” I shove my cell back into my purse and jog up the stairs.
“How’s my little girl?”
“Great.” I kiss his cheek.
He stands back. “You seem super happy.”
“I am.” I clasp the doorknob, twist, step inside, and my dad follows behind me.
It’s like stepping back into a piece of my childhood. The living room hasn’t changed. My dad’s recliner is still directly in front of the television, and my mom’s rocking chair has a crocheted afghan laying across it. She’s long since given up the fight over the thermostat. “Where’s Mom?”
“I’m here.” She sweeps in from the kitchen while wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been forever.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
My dad crosses his arms over his chest. “With Kameron?”
“Yes.” I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. “Do you have a problem with that?”
He stands motionless for several seconds as the clock on the wall ticks. Second after second. “I guess you could do worse. But I always pictured you falling in love and getting married to a man that was from here. What happens when he leaves town and goes back home?”
“Everything’ll be fine.” I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if I show one sign of weakness, my father will march into work and demand Kameron ask me to marry him. I want him to decide on his own that he wants a future between us. Not because my father held a shotgun to his head.
My dad turns on his heel and walks to the living room. “Let’s hope so.” His voice is muffled, but there’s no question about what he said.