Marry Screw Kill

Nothing.

So I threw some cash on the counter and grabbed the earrings while Harlow turned away. The clerk knew what I was up to since she overheard the conversation between us. I overpaid for the earrings by a few dollars and mouthed for the clerk to keep the change.

I plan on giving them to her tonight. Maybe I’ll place them down on her pillow to find later.

Last night, we slept in the same big, king-sized bed. We laid down facing one another with our head on our pillows. She talked about flying to Chicago and meeting her family until she fell asleep mid-sentence. I don’t remember her mentioning James once after I gave her the rundown of meeting him.

I watched her take slow, even breaths while her long, black lashes lightly fluttered. Fortunately, she was tucked under the covers, but I still fought the desire to pull her into my arms and spoon the night away.

Yes, I wanted to spoon with Harlow last night. Who the hell am I? I shake my head and grin. For the first time in my life, I want a woman for who she is, not what she can give me. It’s a novel concept, and feels right with her.

“Better wake up the sleeping beauty,” the flight attendant says while passing by. I nod and bring Harlow’s hand to my lips. After a few kisses across her knuckles, she begins to stir.

“Hey, babe. We’re getting ready to land.” I brush a strand of fallen hair away from her face. I love touching the soft golden silk and fight the urge to run my hands through it freely like I did at the lake.

“We’re landing already?” Harlow gazes up at me, blinking her hazy eyes. “How long was I sleeping?”

“About thirty minutes. A nice cat nap.” She stretches and arches her back beside me. I try not to stare at her chest, but hell, I’m a man, and she has a lovely set. I shake my head, trying to think about the Yankee’s loss last night. We need to up our pitching staff.

“I am not sure why I just thought of this, but what did you tell The Clinic about leaving? You told them, right?” Harlow asks.

“I used the same excuse James gave for his leave of absence. Family emergency.” I take her hand back in mine, wanting to touch her again. “No worries, okay?”

“I still can’t believe you gave up the clerkship to help me. You’re my knight in shining armor.” Her eyes become cloudy with tears and she brings her lips to my cheek in a soft kiss. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“No regrets. Promise.”

My lips speak the truth of my heart. Years from now, I will look back and know helping Harlow when she needed me was the right decision—the only decision. Like the dream I had of rescuing her from the fire, I would be held accountable if I had ignored the abuse she suffered through daily, and potentially for the rest of her life. Walking away was never an option for me. I will always believe my trip to Rochester was meant to be a rescue mission—hers.

We land at Chicago’s O’Hare and I rent an SUV. Harlow doesn’t seem to object to me doing this for us. She let me purchase her tickets here too, though she promised to pay me back. She doesn’t have a credit card yet and they’re necessary in this world of online commerce. Setting up a bank account tops the list of things she needs to accomplish. I have a feeling she will be doing that this week in Chicago instead of Rochester.

But our first stop here will be her grandmother’s house. We are sitting in the car in the airport’s parking lot with the engine idling. Harlow pulls her mother’s letter from her bag and unfolds the sheets of paper to locate her grandmother’s home address.

We searched the Internet to confirm her grandmother still lived at the address. It matched one we found on the web’s local white pages in Park Ridge. It’s a city close to the airport, which works out great, since we don’t have a flipping clue about Chicago’s suburbs.

“Crazy to think your mother was raised in the same hometown as Hilary Clinton,” I say. We dug up some basic information on the web about Park Ridge. It’s an affluent city. One site called it a bedroom community where people live, play, and commute for work.

“Harrison Ford, too. My mother always had a thing for Indiana Jones. Maybe that’s why, hometown boy and all.” Harlow giggles in a higher pitch than normal. She’s anxious about meeting her grandmother and trying to put on a strong face for me.

“Nervous?” I ask.

“Just a little,” she sighs. “No, more like terrified.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’d feel the same way.” I reach across the console and take her hand. “Remember, once the shock wears off, I bet your grandmother will be so thankful you found her. Just like you are feeling about her.”

“I hope you’re right.” Harlow gives me a weak smile.

“You can do this. You’re stronger than you realize.” I want to encourage her and build up her confidence, try to repair the damage done by James.

“You think?” she asks.

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