I reached across the table and wiped away the milk mustache she was sporting. Harlow’s gaze locked onto my face and she clearly wanted to say something. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
“You have great lips,” I said softly, daring her to share what she was thinking.
“I know. I’m amazing.” Harlow didn’t smile at her words, instead staring at me until our food arrived. “Have you ever had a real relationship?” she asked, poking at her eggs.
“Yes. You?”
“I went on a few dates last year.”
“What’s the guy like?”
“He got on my nerves at first. He also had a stupid mohawk before his sisters shaved it off. Anyway, I learned he was a good guy and I even love him now.”
If her words were meant to stir up my possessive nature, they worked. I was a pro at hiding my feelings though.
“Why aren’t you dating him now if he’s so special?” I asked calmly.
Harlow stared hard at me, frustrated by the temptation she felt. I held her gaze, yet showed none of my irritation at hearing about her old flame. Suddenly, she smiled and I sensed I’d given away my anger. Her laughter startled me, leaving me grumpy.
“This guy,” she said, covering her mouth, “might have actually been on a date with Winnie and I might have just been the chaperone, but that counts, right?”
“Most definitely,” I said, hiding my relief.
“I was trying to make you jealous.”
“Didn’t work.”
“No, I guess it didn’t, but I know how you’re more into chicks with big hair and lots of makeup. Maybe I should get a makeover.”
“You’d look good with a beehive.”
Harlow laughed again. “Maybe I’ll give it a try for Halloween.”
“I’d like to see that,” I said, tearing apart my bacon.
“But you won’t since you’ll be gone.”
Our gazes meeting, I nodded. “You’ll need to send me a picture then.”
“Like you’ll really care months from now.”
Ignoring the return of her grumpiness, I popped a sausage link into my mouth. “I’ll probably dress up as an angel with a halo and wings.”
Harlow gave me a little smile. “You’d make a very appealing angel, but I think you’d be a better demon.”
“How do you figure?” I asked, frowning.
“Don’t be offended. You’d make a very tempting incubus.”
“A sex demon?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
Harlow shrugged. “You know you’re hot.”
I grinned and wiped an imaginary milk mustache as an excuse to caress her lips. “Thank my hot heritage.”
Harlow ran her fingers over where mine had been. “Can you tell me about your heritage or is that top secret too?”
“Grandma was Puerto Rican. She married a man with Samoan and Anglo French running through his veins. Other grandma was Creole and she married a Norwegian giant.”
“Exotic,” she said in a way that warmed my skin.
Damn her mood swings were making me crazy. “How about you?”
“Mom was an Oklahoma redneck. Dad was an Arizona redneck. Jealous now?”
Her smile made me laugh. “Somewhere in the world, no doubt rednecks are considered exotic. So yeah, I’m jealous.”
Harlow’s smile widened and I had the urge to kiss her. Hating the need eating at my control, I knew I should walk away from this woman and never look back. No, instead I planned to open doors needing to remain shut and ask questions with answers that might destroy us.
“What are your siblings’ names?” I said, pushing her buttons like she pushed mine. “Your biological ones.”
Harlow’s smile faded. “Why?”
“I want to share things with you. Private things, so you need to share first.”
“Why first?” she said then rolled her eyes. “Oh, because you’re an only child and never learned manners.”
“Oh, I learned them.”
Harlow glanced around before focusing on her food. “My sister was Eden and my brother was Dex.”
“Did they look like you?”
I watched Harlow struggle to remember without breaking down. “Dex looked like our mom. Me and Eden look like our dad.”
“Do you have any pictures?”
Harlow shook her head. “Vaughn took me out of Phoenix the same night they died and there was no way to get pictures. They’re all at my aunt’s house and she wouldn’t give them to me.”
“Why not?”
Harlow focused on my face. “Her husband was Playboy who raped me and pimped me out to his club buddies. Do you really think she’d want a reunion when she thinks I got him killed?”
“No, probably not. Two kind of women end up with a guy like Playboy. Victims or bitches. Sounds like your auntie is number two.”
“I doubt she’d even have any pictures. Probably burned them after Playboy killed mom.”