“Give me a clue, at least. How dressed up do you need me?”

  “Jeans and a button-up shirt will do. It’s not super-fancy.”

  Harris was soon dressed and waiting downstairs. I took a little longer picking my outfit—a pretty blue sundress with a flared floral skirt; blue sandals to go with it. I didn’t have time to curl my hair, but I pinned it back with a barrette decorated with silk flowers. Was it too much, I wondered? He’d never seen me in anything but tank tops and shorts, jeans in the winter. Nothing like this.

  I took a deep breath and pushed down my nerves. If we were going to make a go of this, he’d need to love me in anything, ball gown or hospital gown, bikini or bathrobe. I picked my way down the stairs, shaky on my heels, and⁠—

  “Oh, my God. You’re an actual fairy!” Harris darted toward me, but he stopped short. “I want to grab you and kiss you, but I might mess you up.”

  “One kiss should be fine.”

  Harris grabbed me and dipped me, kissing me deep and long. By the time he let me back up, my head was spinning. I clung to him, laughing, having never felt so wanted. Then we were racing to the CR-V, Harris playing twenty questions, trying to guess our destination.

  “You won’t get it,” I said, as I passed the old cannery. “It’s sort of a secret. Locals only.”

  Harris made a huffing sound, but he eventually subsided. Soon, I pulled into a wide parking lot.

  “There’s nothing here,” Harris said.

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” I headed toward the hiking trails. “It’s not far,” I said. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” I led him up a narrow path canopied by trees, dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. Birds chirped, bugs droned, and water burbled.

  “I hear something—a creek?” Harris said.

  “Through here.” I pulled him down an older trail, dim and overgrown. I could smell the water, running clear and fresh. Then the trees parted, and I could see it as well—the deep, pool topped by low waterfalls, three of them cascading one into another. Harris sighed behind me, soft and full of awe.

  “This is your favorite place?”

  “In the whole world.”

  “But…” He cocked his head, frowning. “Why’d we have to dress up?”

  “Because I wanted to,” I said. “I wanted to wear something nice for you.” I winked. “That, and we’re getting lunch after. We ought to look good for that.”

  Harris looked about curiously, taking in the scene. He went down to the water’s edge and tested it with his fingers, then pulled off his shoes and socks and let his feet dangle in. “It’s so peaceful,” he said. “Magic, almost.”

  I sat next to him and leaned up against him. “I used to make wishes here.”

  “And did they come true?”

  “Sometimes.” I’d wished for Mom to stop drinking once, when I’d been about ten. It had come true for a month or so—Mom had gotten a DUI. She’d lost her car, copped a huge fine, and started going to AA. That had been a good month, but then Mom had slipped. Relax, she’d said. I can stop if I want to. If that was true, then she hadn’t wanted to, not then, not ever.

  “Rachel,” Harris said, his voice low and hushed.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was just⁠—”

  “No, Rachel, look.” He pointed across the water, and my breath caught. There, in a sunbeam, danced a cloud of black wings, dotted with delicate blues and greens.

  Fairies, I thought. But, no. These were butterflies, jewel-like black swallowtails. I gazed at them wide-eyed, entranced by the sight. Harris found my hand and twined his fingers with mine.

  “I’ve never seen so many in one place.”

  The cloud dispersed, came together, and fanned out again. They fluttered close, all around us, and I laughed with delight. I held out my free hand, hardly daring to breathe.

  “No way,” whispered Harris.

  The butterflies came nearer, flitting so close I felt the breeze from their wings soft on my skin. My vision went blurry, and I blinked back tears—tears of joy and surprise and startled wonder.

  “It isn’t this place that’s magical,” Harris said. “It’s you.” He turned to watch the butterflies. Then, he said something that made my heart leap.

  “Let’s come here again. All three of us. Every year.”

  The butterflies flitted away, and my spirits soared with them. Every year—did that mean he wanted this too? The three of us? A future?

  Had my wish come true?

  14

  HARRIS

  Ifilled the roller with more paint from the tray, then applied it to the wall I’d prepped after Rachel fell asleep last night. Shish. Shush. Shish. Shush. With even strokes from the long-handled roller, pale green covered the white from floor to ceiling.

  I stopped and stared for a moment, overcome with emotion. Holy shit. Holy shit. I was about to become a father. Me. A father. I was painting the room where my child would sleep. Where my child would play, maybe say its first word. The reality of the situation was hitting me hard.

  I loaded my roller again, full of terror and elation. What the hell did I know about being a father? If my kid got bullied, what would I do then? I couldn’t beat up the bullies, because they’d be kids too. Teach my kid to throw down? Rachel would kill me.

  There came the terror again. What if I screwed up and scarred my kid for life? What if he or she wanted to be a Marine? Could I honestly stand by and allow it, knowing the atrocities they’d witness, the violence they’d face? But not supporting my kid’s choice would make me an asshole, and I couldn’t allow that either.

  Shish. Shush. Shish. Shush. I hoped like hell Rachel knew what to do. If our kid grew up to be even a little like her, I would count that as a win.

  I’d tried calling my brothers, hoping for reassurance, but Lee hadn’t answered. Chance had, but he’d taken the opportunity to ratchet up my anxiety by reminding me just how horny we’d been in high school. Imagine it’s a girl—remember senior prom? I shuddered again, because yes. I remembered. My daughter wouldn’t be dating until she graduated college. Neither, for that matter, would my son. Lock the kid up. That should work great.

  I took a deep breath, then a few more. If I ignored the paint fumes, the repetitive motion was kind of like therapy, the long strokes of the roller providing a slow, soothing rhythm. Painting was also a great way to show Rachel how much I loved her, without putting her on the spot with words. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to see her reaction to that particular confession, at least not until I knew she felt the same.

  Shish. Shush. Shish. Shush. Yesterday evening, when Rachel had gone to the kitchen to throw a simple dinner together—even though I offered to order a pizza—I had snuck in a phone call to the hardware store and bribed the store manager to meet me at the crack of dawn this morning. Instead of heading out for my run, I had met the manager at the store, my phone full of photos from my date with Rachel.

  “I want a room like this,” I’d said.

  “What, full of plants?”

  “No—no. The colors. The sunlight, the green. It’s for my kid’s nursery. It’s gotta be right.”

  The guy had slapped my back in enthusiastic congratulations, then helped me pick and mix gallons of paint. I had then crept back into the house with two different shades.

  The first was the soft, pale green that would cover three walls. The second was a yellow as bright and vibrant as Rachel herself and would light up the wall where the crib would go. I could see it already in my mind’s eye: a cozy, home version of Rachel’s happy place. She’d love it, I thought. Hoped.

  “Ohhh.” A loud exclamation shattered the quiet.

  I set down the roller and turned around. Rachel was riveted, taking in my work. I couldn’t tell from her slack jaw if she was horrified or thrilled, so I slapped on a smile and stood up.

  “Surprise.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Rachel breathed. She was radiant. Glowing. “That color’s amazing. Like spring leaves. So…rich.”

  “You like it?” I grinned, relief making me giddy. Part of me had been worried she’d hate it, or that she’d blast me for leaving her out of the decision-making process.

  “It’s perfect,” she murmured. “My dream nursery.” Her eyes strayed to the partially painted wall. “Thank you, Harris. I mean it. For so much. Just…thank you.” A look passed over her face that had my heart thumping loudly. I wanted to call it love, but I couldn’t let myself hope. Just because I was falling fast didn’t mean she was too.

  “That’s not all,” I said, a little hoarsely. I pulled an unopened paint can toward me and popped off the lid. “I got this yellow for the back wall, where the crib will go. I thought it’d be⁠—”

  “Like sunlight.” Rachel was beaming.

  “Like the sun by the fairy pond, y’know, from our date.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures. “I told the paint guy I wanted leaves and sunshine. I wasn’t sure he could do it, but…”

  “You did great.” Rachel stretched up on tiptoe and cupped the sides of my face. She kissed me slow and gentle, palms soft on my cheeks. I could feel her heart beating when she pressed up against me, and my own pulse picked up to match its rapid patter.

  “I love it,” she whispered, and my whole body ached. It was so close to I love you, just off by one word. I worked my fingers through her silky blue hair, down the line of her back and the curve of her hips. She was glorious from top to bottom, full of color and life. I bent to kiss the chrysanthemum tattooed on her shoulder, and my heart sang I love you as my lips grazed her skin. I drew breath to say it, but what came out was “I want you.”

  Rachel gasped harshly and pushed up my shirt. She nipped my right pec, pain and pleasure at once, then kissed down my torso, across my tight abs. Her hand found my hard length and caressed it through my shorts, the pad of her thumb grazing over the slit.

  I inhaled a sharp breath through my teeth. “Rachel…”

  She winked up at me, wicked. “What do you want?”

  “Your mouth,” I managed.

  “My mouth? Tell me where.”

  I made a feral sound. Rachel lowered my zipper and unbuckled my belt, popped my shorts open and let them drop to the floor. They landed with a hard thump, and I felt her flinch. She’d forgotten the gun I kept holstered at my back.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t apologize for protecting us.”

  My dick twitched at the hot puff of Rachel’s breath. She ran her hand up my thigh and cupped my balls, fingertips tickling, the sensation almost too much. Then her wet mouth was on me, tongue massaging my shaft. I groaned and thrust my hips. Rachel moaned around me. The vibration nearly tipped me over the edge.

  “Wait,” I said.

  Rachel glanced up, brows knit in confusion.

  “I won’t last,” I said, and pushed her back gently. “I don’t want to come like this. I want to get there together.” Lifting her T-shirt, I caressed her nipples through her bra. They firmed up tightly, and I felt her shiver. Gooseflesh rose down her arms, and I soothed it away. I lowered her to the drop cloth spread out on the floor and stretched out on top of her, careful not to crush her. Rachel arched up to meet me.

  “Harris…”

  I unhooked her bra and bent to tease her nipples with my mouth. Rachel reached down to dispose of her shorts and panties. I snaked my hand past hers and found her freshly shaved—smooth, slick, and yielding under my touch.

  “Christ.” I stared down at her luscious pink slit. “You are a fucking fantasy.” I smoothed my hands up her thighs, but stopped just shy of her core. She spread her legs and I growled. “So wet for me, my fierce fairy, but I think we can do better.”

  I tracked my tongue up her left thigh, skimmed her clit, then darted away.

  “Tease,” she pouted.

  I did the same thing again but with her right thigh.

  “Harris,” she growled.

  “Still not quite there…”

  I flicked my tongue on her clit, again and again, light, skimming licks that made her quiver and shriek. Her desperate cries went straight to my cock, and I couldn’t wait much longer to plunge deep inside.

  “Please.” She gripped my hair, dragging me up. I pretended to resist, then let her take charge, hauling me up for a deep, bruising kiss.

  “You think you’re ready?” I whispered, and God, I was hard.

  “Yes,” she cried, raking her nails down my back.

  I bumped her legs wider apart to make room for myself, and then I was in her, thrusting deep, pleasure spooling tighter and tighter. Rachel ground up against me, pistoning her hips. I matched her rhythm, burning with want. I felt it when she came, that tight, needy clench. I heard her as well, screaming my name.

  “Again,” I growled, picking up speed.

  “Again? I—I can’t…” Rachel clung to my shoulders.

  “I think you can,” I said, and lapped at her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut.

  “Harris—Harris⁠—”

  I pounded her hard, and my own climax neared, a wave cresting inside of me, an unstoppable force. Rachel was squirming, pulling my hair. Her hips bucked up twice, and I felt her cum again. The force of her pleasure dragged me over the edge, and I collapsed in her arms, riding out the storm.

  “That was amazing,” Rachel whispered when she got her breath back.

  I, still breathless, grunted my agreement.

  “In the baby’s room—shame on us.”

  “I’m not ashamed.” I rolled off her and sprawled on my back, staring up at the ceiling. It should be yellow, too, or pale blue with clouds.

  “I was thinking,” I said. “We haven’t been on the same page with the nursery’s theme.” Understatement alert, but Rachel just bobbed her head. “How about we go all-in on your magic forest? No cowboys, no pirates, just…maybe murals? Wildflowers in bloom? Butterflies, even, or fierce little fairies?”

  Rachel turned toward me, a smile on her lips.

  “We could do that,” she said. “I’ve seen stuff like that—wallpapers, decals. Borders and accents that go over the paint. We could keep all the colors, but—here, let me show you.” She reached for my shorts and fished my phone from my pocket, tapped the screen a few times and turned it to face me. “The Garden of Eden.”

  I squinted at the screen, and I felt myself grinning. She was right—that had everything. Colorful garden scenes, mix-and-match decals from huge weeping willows to tiny sprays of flowers. There were fairies, too, in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Boy fairies, girl fairies, even a frog fairy.

  “So, you really do like it? The colors, the theme?”

  “What, you can’t tell from the way I just thanked you?” Rachel bumped me with her elbow. “I thought you were hopeless, with all your cowboys and farm animals. How’d you come up with something so perfect?”

  I turned to face her, raising myself on one elbow. “You asking me out yesterday meant something to me. You taking me to your favorite place in the world. I wanted to keep a piece of that memory alive in this room. I wanted our baby to experience what I did, that happiness. That moment. When those butterflies flew toward us.” I shrugged, feeling stupid now that I’d voiced it out loud.

  Rachel wiped at her face. Were those tears? Was she crying?

  “I’m not crying,” she said. She sniffed loudly and peppered my face with kisses. “Okay, I am. You’re incredible, you know that?”

  The vise constricting my chest snapped away and I exhaled theatrically. “Oh, thank God.”

  The office phone rang, and Rachel scrambled to her feet. She jogged off to answer it, tugging her shorts up as she went.

  I lay where I was a few moments longer, savoring the knowledge I’d done something right.

  “Back to work,” I murmured. Rachel’s reaction had fueled me more than ten cups of coffee. I pulled my own shorts back up and was reaching for the roller when movement caught my eye from out the front window. An aging Honda Accord was coming up the driveway, almost winging my Mustang.

  Son of a bitch.

  Rachel’s voice drifted to me from down the hall. She was still on the phone, taking down a new booking. Good. I jogged down the stairs and waited for Tammy Winchester outside. If my luck held, I’d have her off the property before Rachel had to see her.

  Crossing my arms, I blocked the front door. Tammy hurried up the walkway, heels crunching in the gravel. She looked a mess, her hair all askew. There was a ketchup stain smeared down the front of her shirt. When she saw me, she froze.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She lifted a shaky hand and swiped at her face. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and it made her look younger, a far cry from the brazen woman who’d shown up with a treasure map in her hands.

  I fixed her with a cold stare. “The police are looking for you.”

  “I know.” She nodded as if that would somehow excuse her. “I talked to them this morning.” A tremor ran through her as she climbed the porch steps. “I didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know what?” I wasn’t sure why I bothered asking. No matter what she said, I’d have a hard time believing a word from her mouth.

  She turned on the waterworks and wrung her hands together. “I didn’t know Darryl was physically attacking Rachel.”

  I barked laughter. “Bullshit.”

  “I swear,” Tammy cried. “It wasn’t until the police questioned me this morning that I found out.” She swallowed hard, lifting eyes eerily similar to Rachel’s, but without the warmth or love. “Did he really poison her coffee? Did her brakes really fail?” Another swallow. “He shot at her?” she whispered.

  “As if you weren’t in on it.” I clenched my fists to keep from strangling her.

  “I wasn’t.” She shook her head harder. “I knew Darryl wanted the treasure, but not—not like this.” Her trembling hand covered her mouth, then dropped away. “I just wanted the money. I thought we could get it. All that was supposed to happen was⁠—”

  “You’d destroy Rachel’s business?”

  “Not…not destroy it, exactly. She’d just fail her inspection, and she’d have to sell. She’d have made out fine.” Jesus Christ. This woman had no shame.