Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) (20 page)

A loud banging on the window made them both jump. "Helloooo!!! You're in public, remember?"

Emma started to laugh even as her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Harlan pulled back, and he was grinning, too. Neither of them bothered to look at the window to see who was knocking. They both knew. "Well, if there's a place for the rumors to start, I think we hit the jackpot," he said.

A knock sounded again. "Get out of the truck, newlyweds," Eppie's voice rang out. "Everyone's waiting for you! No one believes that either of you would actually marry anyone, so they're all waiting to see for themselves whether you really did it."

Nervousness rippled through Emma as she looked at Harlan. "Okay, you ready for this?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "To deceive an entire town who wants nothing more than your eternal happiness? Yeah, I'm on it. You good? Can you stand to stare into my eyes and do a little love-sick sighing?"

She giggled at his goofiness. "No one would believe any love-sick sighing from me. When I was with Preston—"

"No." He covered her lips with one finger. "You weren't in love with him. Not the way you are with me. It's different this time. Once you realize that, so will they. You didn't sigh with him. You do with me. That's what real love is, sweetheart. I'm the one for you, and everyone will know it the minute they see how you look at me."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise at his speech. He sounded deadly serious. "I'm not in love with you—"

He cut off her protest with a kiss, a kiss that left no room for coherent thought or rational response. Just like before, emotions and sensations flooded her, and the world around them seemed to vanish. Even Eppie's amused cackle barely registered under Harlan's assault. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but one that was far too short, he broke the kiss, but kept his lips against hers. "Never,
ever
again say you don't love me," he said quietly. "From now on, until I leave town, there is no space for any thought in your mind except for how madly in love with me you are."

She swallowed. "I have to remember the truth—"

He kissed her again until she thought her body was going to explode. "You can't afford to remember the truth," he whispered into her mouth. "You were betrayed once, and the town is going to be looking hard for any sign that I'm going to betray you again. Any doubt, any flicker of fear in your eyes, any withdrawal at all by either of us, and they are going to be all over it. And then, when Dottie shows up and starts asking questions, this town is going to take it upon themselves to ensure your future is the one they think you should have. They need to be absolutely convinced that I will protect your heart and keep you safe for the rest of your life or they will not let this happen."

At his words, Emma closed her eyes, her soul aching with yearning for the image he had painted. As terrified as she was of marriage, as resistant as she was to putting herself in another man's control, the idea of having a man who would protect her heart and keep her safe for the rest of her life made her want to cry with longing. The truth was, she didn't want to be alone and brave. She wanted to have someone she could trust. She'd been lying to herself thinking that life alone was what she wanted. "I hate you," she whispered. "Don't make me want things that I can't have."

"You can hate me," he said softly, "as long as you still love me unconditionally. The town has to believe it, and they will be searching for some reason to kick me out of your life onto my ass. You know they will." His breath was warm against her mouth, whispers meant only for her.

"You're right. I know you're right." She'd seen the way the town had tried to protect Clare from Griffin. She'd seen it with Astrid. Even Harlan had tried to stop Jason and Astrid from being together until he was convinced Jason would be good to her. "Okay."

"Good." He smiled, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Which means—" He kissed one corner of her mouth.

"—that you—" He kissed the other corner.

"—are madly—" He kissed her nose.

"—and passionately—" He kissed her forehead.

"—committed to me in your heart—" He placed his hand on her chest.

"—and in your soul." He kissed her full on the mouth, a kiss so tender and beautiful that tears sprang to her eyes.

It was the kiss she'd wanted her whole life. Tender. Gentle. Passionate. Kind. Sensual. Except that it wasn't real. It was acting. It was a lie.

"This is real, Emma. Believe it, or no one else will." Then he threaded his fingers through hers and kissed her until she finally, reluctantly, and wholeheartedly kissed him back.

A deep sense of satisfaction pulsed through Harlan when he felt Emma accept his kiss. It felt so right to feel her relax and lean into him, exactly how it was meant to be. He cupped her throat, loving the feel of her pulse hammering so fast from his kisses. It was incredible the level of satisfaction that thrummed through him as her hand tentatively went to his shoulder, her fingers digging in ever so slightly. She was so tiny in his arms, too delicate, too vulnerable. Instinctively, he palmed her lower back with his hand, needing to support her and hold her as he kissed her.

Her mouth tasted of mint toothpaste with a splash of strawberry. Her lips were decadently soft, her kiss so vulnerable that he wanted to erect a shield to protect her from any more of the crap that life was going to throw at her...including himself.

Instinct made him want to pull back, to cut off the kiss, to distance himself from her, but he knew he couldn't, for all the same reasons he'd outlined to her. Because there was a little girl who needed a break, and she was depending on the two of them to make it happen.

It wasn't until there was more hooting from Eppie that he finally broke the kiss.

Emma stared at him, her cheeks flushed, breathing a little hard. "You are way too good at that," she said.

He grinned. "I practiced on my teddy bear a lot when I was a kid. It's an important life skill for a man to have."

"Well, remind me to come back in my next life as your teddy bear."

He burst out laughing. "I'll remind you."

She smiled, but her cheeks were still flushed. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Harlan saw movement behind Emma, but before he could warn her, Eppie yanked the passenger door open. "Showtime," he whispered to her, just before he glowered at Eppie, who had stuck her head in the front seat with them. "I wasn't finished with her yet," he said.

Eppie beamed at him, her face barely visible beneath all the crystal teardrops hanging off the brim of her yellow straw hat. "Well, you have to share her now." She grabbed Emma's arm. "Come on, girlie. Show off this husband of yours. We all want to see."

Emma shot Harlan a resigned look, and he grinned as she scooted off the seat and out the door. Eppie slammed the door in his face, and he let out his breath as he opened his own door. It had been one thing to boost up Emma and to be focused on her, but as he stepped out of the truck and saw the number of eyes on him, he suddenly wondered whether he really could pull this off.

It wasn't a matter of convincing anyone he was in love with her. That was easy. Emma was one of the most interesting and appealing women he'd ever met. The question was whether he was going to convince anyone that he was the man Emma deserved to marry, especially when he didn't believe it himself.

Then he saw Jackson Reed, one of his few real friends from town, walking toward him, and he stiffened. Jackson knew him well. They'd shared many beers over the years, and he would know Harlan was lying. The small crowd parted as Jackson walked up, his stride easy and relaxed as he headed toward Harlan. Everyone knew that Jackson was the man who knew him best, and they were deferring.

Shit.

Harlan drew his shoulders back as Jackson neared. The other man stopped in front of Harlan, his dark eyes studying him carefully, his Red Sox cap pushed back on his forehead. In typical Jackson fashion, he was wearing jeans, work boots, and a collared plaid shirt, clearly dressing up for the event. "You really did this? Married her?"

Harlan nodded. "Yeah."

Jackson glanced past him at Emma, who was being interviewed by Eppie and a few other women. "She's a nice girl."

"I know."

Jackson looked at him. "She's been through hell."

"I know."

"You're a self-proclaimed bastard."

Harlan didn't look away. "I know."

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "So, what changed?"

Harlan knew his friend would smell a lie a thousand miles away, so he gave the truth. "Sunshine."

Jackson raised his brows. "Sunshine? What are you talking about?"

"If I asked you whether Trish was your sunshine, what would you say?"

"Trish, my wife?" Jackson frowned at Harlan's nod. "Hell, yeah, she's my sunshine. She's the light that saves my ass every damn day of my life."

Harlan smiled. "Exactly." He held out his wrist and showed Jackson his tattoo. "I take Emma with me. She gives me hope that my life is worth more than I think it is." Which was the absolute truth. "I never had sunshine before her. Ever."

Jackson stared at the tattoo, then looked at Harlan. "So, this is about you? Not her? You want her because of what she can do for you?"

Harlan had expected the resistance, and he had an answer. "If something made your heart beat, would you do everything in your power to protect it, treasure it, and keep it safe? Would you swear on your own bastard father's grave that you would never, ever, destroy that light or make the flame die?" As he spoke the words, he couldn't help his gaze from wandering over to Emma.

She was laughing now, her eyes sparkling with merriment that made his heart tighten. It was the truth, what he'd said to Jackson. She was his angel, and he would do whatever it took to protect her, including haul his sorry ass out of her life before he could do any damage. "I would do anything for her," he said softly. And for that little girl somewhere, who needed Emma in her life. He couldn't offer the world the kind of sunshine that Emma brought into it, but he could help her and Mattie. He could stop the cycle of hell that was spinning around them both.

Jackson stared at him, and then a broad grin broke out over his face. "Son of a bitch, man. I can't even believe it." He slammed his hand down on Harlan's shoulder, then yanked him forward for a massive bear hug.

Harlan grinned, laughing when Jackson ruffled his hair. "Lay off the hair, man. I worked hard on that." He shoved Jackson's hand aside. "Go away. I need to rescue my woman."

"Beer later?" Jackson called as Harlan headed over to the women.

"You got it." As Jackson headed back into the fairgrounds, Harlan felt a strange sensation settle over him, almost disappointment that Jackson hadn't seen the truth. He realized that a part of him had wanted to be called out, to be hauled away from Emma before he could screw it up and hurt her.

The truth was, he still had the opportunity to walk away. He could do it. He didn't need Jackson to free him.

But when Emma's face lit up as he approached, he knew there was no chance. He hadn't been lying when he'd said Emma was his sunshine. She was, and he needed to drink in every last ounce of it to sustain him when he had to leave it behind.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said as he held out his hand to Emma. "Do you mind if I borrow my wife?"

Emma glanced at his hand, and for a split second, he thought she wasn't going to take it. His entire body seemed to go numb and the world seemed to careen to a dead halt, every level of his being suspended in tense anticipation, waiting for her to accept him.

Then she set her hand in his, and the world surged back to life.

Emma had to admit it.

Harlan was dangerously handsome.

There was simply no way to deny it.

As he guided her through the stone pillars at the entrance to the park, there was no mistaking the number of appreciative female gazes sent his way, and she didn't like it. Women had appreciated Preston's expensive car and custom suits, and he had appreciated their appreciation of him. She didn't want a man that other women coveted—

She stiffened as a pair of twenty-somethings in skimpy bikini tops and cut-offs that had been cut a little too short sidled up toward them, their eyes latched onto Harlan so tightly she was sure they hadn't even noticed she was beside him.

Carefully, Emma watched Harlan scan the crowd, and she saw the moment that he noticed the two women approaching him. Emma instinctively slowed down, distancing herself from Harlan, refusing to insert herself into a battle for his attention.

The two women got closer, and Harlan glanced backward at Emma, that same gesture she was all too used to seeing from Preston, that double-check to make sure he wasn't going to get caught. She turned her head away, giving him the freedom to do what he wanted to do—

"Hey." A heavy arm settled around her shoulders, and she glanced up in surprise as Harlan tucked her against his side. "You okay?"

She was too surprised to answer, and stole a quick look at the two women. They had stopped a few feet away, annoyed disappointment on their faces.

"Em?"

She looked back up at him, and the strangest feeling of warmth began to spread through her. The smile she gave him was real, and she felt it all the way to her heart. "I'm good," she said. "Thank you."

He raised his eyebrow. "For what?"

"For honoring me." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth.

He didn't pull away. Even though they were in the middle of a crowded area, a few feet from two women who clearly wanted to get some action from him, he didn't shrug her off with some muttered excuse. In fact, he actually locked his arm around her lower back, hauled her against him, and upped the heat on the kiss by about a thousandfold.

He broke the kiss quickly, but there was a satisfied grin on his face as he drew away. "You're putty in my hands," he observed.