“Let’s do something tomorrow,” he whispers into my ear before pulling back and meeting my eyes with a knowing look. “Just the two of us.”

Just the two of us? I can’t say that my heart doesn’t jump at the thought of being alone with him again after all this time. But why does he want to do something, just the two of us? Is he jealous? I nod, trying to keep the smug grin from claiming my entire face.

Harley flashes me a confusing look, one I can’t read, before forcing a smile onto his face. Turning, he hesitates a moment, but then he grabs my hand, a little more roughly than necessary, and pulls me with him. Together, we walk in a silence so thick with tension, so overwrought with frustration, that I just know I’m in for it the moment we’re alone.

Chapter 7

The drive back from the club doesn’t take long. I only live on the other side of the pines behind the golf course but, with the tension reverberating throughout the silent cab of Harley’s truck, three minutes actually feels like an excruciating lifetime. When we pull up to the curb outside my house, I exhale a breath of relief. I thought he was going to blast me the moment we were alone, but he remained silent the whole way. The only thing that gave away the fact that he’s even remotely pissed off was the way his death-like grip on the steering wheel turned his strained knuckles a stark shade of white.

“Well,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “Goodnight.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I climb down from the truck and close the door behind me. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I continue up the steps to my porch and fumble through my purse for my house keys, which is when I hear the porch steps creak behind me.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell this is all about?”

I startle, turning quickly to see Harley right there. I didn’t even hear him get out of his truck, let alone his footsteps approach on the path behind me. Yet, there he is, glaring at me, waiting impatiently for me to explain myself. Rolling my eyes, I push my glasses up my nose as I retrieve my keys from my purse. I unlock the door and continue inside, waiting for him to follow. I know he deserves at least some semblance of an apology, especially seeing as I can’t give him the explanation he needs.

Harley walks inside like a man on a mission, pacing back and forth in the small foyer, his footsteps heavy on the cherrywood floorboards. I turn, watching him as I relax against the front door before pushing off and continuing past him and into the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink?” I call over my shoulder.

He follows me. “No, I don’t want no damn drink. I want an explanation, Murph!”

I stop at the kitchen island, gripping the counter and taking a moment to collect myself. I’ve consumed far too much wine for such an intense conversation, and my head is already all over the place. To be honest, I really don’t even know where to begin.