did he know her?
Well, one guess. “Hey, pretty.” He winked, reassured as he sank back into an old habit.
Harlow snorted. “While we’re here, you might want to check out a few books on the consequences of he-sluttery.”
“You mean extreme fun and temporary pleasure?”
Her mouth curled with distaste. “When it comes to matters of the heart, the only thing you should want to be temporary is an STD.”
Deep down, he’d known she would balk at anything fleeting. Now he had to bite the inside of his cheek to combat a blistering surge of something akin to disappointment.
The brunette reached him, scowling at Harlow before schooling her features and raking her nails down his tie. “A few weeks ago you asked me out. Do you remember?”
“Do you really think I could forget?” he replied smoothly, still drawing a blank.
She shook her head, relieved, and said, “At the time, I told you no, but I’ve regretted it ever since.”
The words jogged his memory. That’s right. She’d played hard to get, turning him down flat, and he’d moved on to someone else. No harm, no foul.
“You two deserve each other. I hope you’re happy...temporarily.” Harlow kept her attention squarely on Beck, glaring daggers at him. “Meanwhile, I’ll be outside. I’ll give you ten minutes to get your card and whatever books you want me to follow while tending your garden, and then I’m gone. I have places to be.”
He didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want her out of his sight, but he said, “If you want to leave, leave. I won’t stop you.” Not now, not ever.
As he spoke, the brunette linked her arm through his, a clear attempt to stake a claim. He almost shook off her hold, but the feeling was so new, so unexpected—so different—he locked his limbs in place.
Harlow looked from him to the girl, the girl to him, the severity he’d noticed in the later-childhood pictures soon masking her features. “Forget the books, and screw you,” she spat, turning toward the door. “Screw you both.”
He knew. In that moment, he knew beyond any doubt. She liked him, and not as a brother. Jealousy was the only reason she would lash out this sharply.
“Harlow,” he called.
“What?” she snapped.
“Stay close. I’ll be coming for you.”
HARLOW PACED BACK and forth in front of the library’s front door. Old wood planks creaked and whined, a warm breeze actually cool against her damp neck. Her mind churned.
How dumb was she? Suzie Quaid had walked into the library, and Harlow had nearly erupted into flames of jealousy. All because Beck had smiled and turned on the charm. But the great he-slut of the Southwest always smiled and turned on the charm. He’d even softened the hard-as-stone Ms. Cavanaugh.
Why should Harlow care that he’d stayed true to form and paid attention to the girl once voted Most Likely to Become a Professional Jell-O Wrestler?
Beck might be gorgeous, and nice, and gorgeous, and charismatic, and gorgeous, but he still wasn’t the man for Harlow. He would never be the man for her. Even temporarily. Especially temporarily. Learn the bliss of being his woman, only to lose him? No, thanks.
Her eyes remained on the prize: stability. Falling in love, creating a home and starting a family. Her desires would never align with his. Best to tend to his garden, as owed, and then move on.
Right on time, he sailed out of the library and smiled his most devastating smile. He handed her the books he’d checked out.
“Catch you later, honey.” He ambled away, whistling a happy tune. Sounded like “Baby Got Back.”
Seriously? That was it? He was just going to leave her here?
Had he made a lunch arrangement with Suzie? Or maybe dinner—followed by bedroom dancing?
Irritation flourished, and in an effort to distract herself, Harlow hugged the books to her chest. The three hardbacks had to weigh a thousand pounds each, and her arms began to shake. As she motored forward, she did her best to remain in the shadows. Mr. Porter and Mr. Rodriguez were no longer playing checkers. Jessie Kay Dillon and her sidekick, Sunny Day, occupied the chairs, drinking whiskey from a bottle and scoring men as they walked past.
Jessie Kay whistled. “Oh, baby. I’m giving you a ten. You look like you’re into commitment. Come give me a taste of that!”
“Oh, sugar, sugar,” Sunny called. “I bet you’ve got a healthy relationship with your mom. Marry me?”
While the guys soaked up the attention, Harlow did her best to escape unnoticed.
She failed.
“Look who just entered my territory.” Sunny fist-pumped the sky. “Catfight, anyone?”
Keep walking. Harlow wasn’t male, but she was given a score anyway. Both girls held up big fat zeros.
I wrote the word slut all over Jessie Kay’s locker on more than one occasion. I dated Scott, Sunny’s ex-boyfriend, only to dump him a day later. This is deserved.
Bad choices, nasty results. No exceptions.
“You’re lucky we don’t have negative numbers, Glass,” Jessie Kay shouted.
Maybe if Harlow tried being nice for once, she’d see better results? “You look real pretty today, Sunny,” she said, flashing a smile. Forced, yes, but also sincere. The blonde was a knockout. “And Jessie Kay, I think you’re more beautiful every time I see you.”
Sunny gasped. “You dirty, rotten bitch. How dare you imply we’re ugly!”
Ugly? You’ve got to be kidding. Would no one ever give her the benefit of the doubt?
Her five-step plan might need a little tweaking.
Head down. Shoulders in. Gait fast. When she turned a corner, she noticed Mr. Brooks struggling to hang an oversize 10% Off sign in the window of his antiques shop.
Harlow hurried over. “Here, let me help you.” She placed her books at her feet and reached for the sign.
Mr. Brooks nearly fell over in an effort to keep her hands off his property. “Trying to steal from me again, Harlow Glass?”
“No, no. I just wanted to—”
“Desecrate the sign and stake it in someone’s yard. I know.”
“Give me a break,” she practically begged, picking up her books. “I’m not that girl anymore. I just wanted to help you.”
“Oh,
