She clears her throat, and her eyes dip down. “I can only imagine that’s what you like.”
My eyes bug out that her train of thought is on the same wavelength, and she has me figured out.
“Either you read me well or you’ve simply written that scenario far too many times. Actually, I know you have. I read a passage from one of your books earlier today, the one about a billionaire who needs a fake fiancée.”
Harlow’s head whips in my direction. “Oh?”
“Your imagination is by far dirtier than I could have guessed. Is it rope or handcuffs that you enjoy more?” Fuck, her scenes get me hard, and I can picture her in every single one.
She coughs from nerves. “I should feel completely uncomfortable right now. But I don’t mind admitting what I write, I have nothing to be ashamed about. I’m just not used to a man relaying what he thinks about my writing.”
I take another sip of wine. “Trust me, I skipped the parts about almost-kisses and tension-filled elevator rides. Went straight to the good stuff. However, from what I read, you have talent.”
Harlow slides her tongue across her bottom lip then settles on the corner of her mouth, trying to figure out how to reply. “I’m kind of happy wine is present. Ah, I read the opening page of your book that you shared earlier in the workshop. Admittedly, kind of boring, but the words flow, and I would never guess a guy who spent so many hours on the ice could create such a page.” She holds her hand up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I’m stereotyping.”
“Nice of you to admit that.”
Her eyes roam the room and land on the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake.
“Want to get some air?” I suggest.
Her gaze snaps to me, with her eyes agreeing. “A good idea.”
We both take our wine glasses and stand to leave the table. After we slide open the door to outside, she walks straight to the railing to soak in the view of twilight, the stars gracing us with their presence. It’s a halfmoon this evening.
Harlow wraps her arms around her body, as it’s a little chilly out.
“I always thought the moon in fall is special. It has a different hue. More profound and a warning of change in the months ahead,” I comment.
She turns to rest her back against the railing while I still look forward, leaning onto the banister. “That’s a whimsical thought.”
I lift a shoulder then sink it back down. “Maybe that’s why I moved here too. The sky is clearer and encourages a blank slate in your mind. I heard people here go a little overboard around Halloween, the pie competition gets out of hand, too.”
Harlow smiles, and the hanging lights outline her peaceful eyes locked on me. “The night can be many things, Stone. It’s good that you see it in a way that is hopeful.”
I want to stroke my thumb along her cheek and slide down to trace her bottom lip. It’s an innate need inside of me that I choose not to act on, considering I’m sure our group is eyeing us through the window. I don’t mind, though; it would be impossible for them to miss the connection that’s a current between Harlow and me.
“I’m happy that I came to this ruse of a retreat,” she admits. “Maybe a piece inside of me needed to break away, and it took this to do it. I’m ready to let the words flow.”
“Is it the ruse of the retreat?” I’m going to dig until she confesses that she’s feeling this aptitude to stay close to one another.
A wry smile hits her lips, and she shakes her head once side to side. “Nah, it’s the company we keep.”
“Isn’t that a movie?”
“No clue. It just sounds fitting.”
We stare at one another, getting lost in a moment that keeps occurring. “Do you think you will come back to Lake Spark?” I wonder and may even be optimistic.
Harlow shrugs. “Don’t have much reason to. Without this retreat, I never would have known this town was on the map.”
My eyes widen. “Your hockey research needs improvement then. The Spinners are kind of making waves in the league.”
“Oops. I better listen tomorrow during Gloria’s research workshop,” she quips before silence falls on us for a few ticks. “To answer your question, I kind of have a busy schedule happening the next few months. The publisher planned a few signings for me.”
“I see.” A slight disappointment flinches inside of me.
Now an awkwardness breezes into our air as we pause for a moment.
