I narrow my eyes. “Not every man tries to sleep with a woman on the first date, Harry. Chivalry isn’t dead.”
“Are you going out with him again?”
I don’t really want to go out with Douglas again. He was nice enough, but the whole evening felt awkward, and we didn’t have much chemistry. He did ask me to go out again, though, and I told him I’d check my schedule and see. I’m not telling Harry any of that, though.
“I am.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
“Never.”
Harry laughs. “This guy doesn’t even exist, does he? You made up a date just to make me jealous.”
“I guess you’ll find out, won’t you? And that reminds me, is my bedroom soundproof, too, or is it only yours?”
Harry’s grin slides away. “You’re not bringing a man here for sex, Winter. Not ever.”
“How would you know?”
He frowns. “Because I forbid it. If I can’t, you can’t.”
“I don’t mind of you bring a man here for sex.”
“Aren’t you the comedian tonight,” he grumbles.
“I’m hungry,” I announce. “I’m going to make an omelet. Do you want one?”
“Sure.” Harry stands, keeping Avery on his chest. “Did you just eat a salad with no dressing on your date? Are you one of those women?”
“I had chicken marsala, but it was a really small portion.”
“Did your date take you somewhere nice?”
I shrug. “Nice enough.”
I’m walking into the kitchen when Harry’s words stop me in my tracks.
“Let me take you on a date.”
I turn to face him, my heart pounding. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I like you and I want to take you on a date. I know we usually communicate with sarcasm, but I’m trying to be real here. There’s something between us, Winter, and we both know it.”
Harry has completely disarmed me. I don’t know how to respond to his sincerity. So instead, I ignore him, turning back around and walking into the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, I’m halfway through chopping a red pepper for our omelets when Harry walks into the room.
“Avery’s down for the night,” he says, leaning back against the island and crossing his arms. “Can we talk now?”
I take a deep breath, my heart racing again as I try to find the words.
“I know we’re attracted to each other,” I say, moving the chopped peppers into a bowl and grabbing the mushrooms I washed. “But I can’t go there with you, Harry. Not after what happened with you and Mal.”
“Because we were involved, or because I didn’t want a relationship with her?”
My throat tightens. It’s much easier to fight with Harry than to have a conversation with him. When we’re not acting like overgrown children, I can’t rely on snark and sarcasm to save me.
“I guess because of all of it,” I say softly.
He sighs heavily and I turn to look at him.
“I should have tried harder to contact Mallory and find out if she was really pregnant. That’s a regret I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. I would have supported her.”
“She didn’t want your money.”
He shakes his head. “So because I didn’t want a relationship with her, I didn’t get to be there when my daughter was born? Or make sure she was taken care of? You can’t make someone fall in love with another person.”
I remember how heartbroken Mal was when Harry didn’t respond the way she wanted him to when she told him she was pregnant. And deep down inside, I think she probably got pregnant on purpose, in an effort to trap Harry Stone, but it didn’t work. I’d never say that out loud, though. Even though I can see where Harry is coming from, it seems disloyal to not take Mal’s side.
“She was always taken care of,” I say firmly. “By me.”
“I know, and I’m grateful for you, Winter. You have no idea how glad I am that you were Mallory’s best friend. You’re so strong. And I think that’s why I’m falling for you.”
My stomach swirls with a mix of excitement and dread. Harry can’t be falling for me. That’s not what this living arrangement is supposed to be about.
I take a deep breath as I crack eggs into a bowl, wishing he’d just make some crude comment so we could argue. Anything but this heartfelt talk of falling for me.
“You feel that way because I’m the only woman you’re around anymore,” I say. “We wouldn’t be happy together and we both know it. Once the novelty of the sex wore off, we’d be at each other’s throats.”
I open a drawer and take out a whisk, whisking the eggs as Harry walks up behind me. I don’t dare turn around, because just the heat of his body close to mine is making my skin erupt with goose bumps.
“You know that’s not true,” he says softly.
“Yes, it is.” My response comes out in a high-pitched tone. Shit, I’m nervous.
I turn to pour the eggs into the pan the vegetables are cooking in. Harry follows, taking the bowl from my hands and setting it on the counter. He motions for me to turn around before backing me against the cabinet adjacent to the stove.
His body is inches from mine, his hands on either side of my hips caging me in.
“I’m not missing my shot with you, Winter. I’m not watching as you date some other guy who doesn’t even get how amazing you are. Can we let go of the past and move forward? Together?”
In a matter of seconds, images flash before my eyes. Me, Harry and Avery. Not just living together, but being together. As a family. Harry kissing me when he walks through the door after work. Avery taking her first steps walking back and forth between the two of us. Lazy mornings spent together in bed with cartoons on for Avery.
It would be nice. More than nice, really. But tears prick at my eyes as guilt takes over the good feelings. The life I just imagined is the one Mallory dreamed of. How would she feel, knowing that not only do I get to raise her daughter, but I get to be with Harry, too?
“It would hurt her,” I say out loud, my voice hitching with emotion.
“She’s not here, though.”
I blink away the tears and grab a spatula, tending to the omelets.
“I just can’t. I’m sorry. I know there’s an attraction, but—”
“You want me to go out with other women?” Harry demands, his tone harsh. “Is that what you really want?”
“It’s not about whether I want it, it’s about whether you do.”
“Did it feel right to you tonight? Being out with another man? Did it feel like you and me?”
Not even close. Harry brings out a side of me very few people ever have. When we’re together, the room always feels warmer. He makes me hot—with both anger and arousal. But that kind of pull isn’t sustainable. Would he still want me this much if he had me? If he’d been with me for a few years?
“Douglas isn’t the man of my dreams, no,” I admit. “I went out with him because my sister set me up. But I’m not jumping in your bed. I want to be in Avery’s life forever, and if we get involved and it goes bad, at least one of us will be bitter. It just can’t work, okay?”