Shooting the Moon (18 page)

“Look, try this,” he said, modeling a solid throw. “See? You’re right-handed, so step forward on your left foot. That way you won’t throw your shoulder out trying to get the ball to me.”

“Give it a try, Aunt Lauren,” Brandon yelled.

Lauren wound up and heaved the ball to her nephew, but it was about the ugliest throw Harley had ever seen.

“Was that any better?” she asked hopefully.

“Er, yeah,” he said. “Just try to keep your elbow closer to your body.” Taking her arm, he started guiding her through the proper motion so she could get a feel for what she should be doing, but Tank looked up from swinging Lucy just then, and Harley let go of Lauren as quickly as if she’d burned him. While they were preparing the grill, Tank had mentioned that Damien had stopped by the apartment earlier and ranted and raved about Harley using Brandon to get close to Lauren. “He thinks you have a thing for Lauren,” Tank had said, laughing in amazement, “and you don’t even think she’s cute.” Harley had laughed, too, but he knew the joke was on him. After what Lauren had said in the living room about her love life, he’d imagined a hundred different ways to show her what she was missing—and that conversation had taken place only five hours ago.

What I feel for her is just physical, and as fleeting as
it is ironic,
he told himself, but he had a hard time believing his interest was just physical when she was wearing old-lady clothes and no makeup and was such an embarrassment to women’s athletics.

Brandon threw her a long spiral, and Harley backed away to give her room to field it. Lauren managed to catch it, with her arms and the aid of her body. She gave him a triumphant smile.

“I catch better than I throw,” she explained, but Harley wasn’t too impressed with her ability on either end. He liked her enthusiasm, though. He liked that a lot. And he thought her smile was pretty damn cute.

“Good job,” he said, wishing he was half as taken with any other woman in the park—or any other woman in the world, for that matter.

She lobbed him the ball, he threw it to Brandon, and Brandon heaved her another long, spiral pass. Only this one was pretty far over her head. She started running backward and was so intent on the ball, Harley had the impulse to warn her about the uneven ground. But before he could get the words out, she reached up, bobbled the ball, dropped it and fell on top of it.

“Aunt Lauren, are you okay?” Brandon cried, running toward her.

Harley was the first at her side. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so. At least not seriously,” she panted, but her brow was creased.
Something
hurt, and seeing her in pain was making Harley feel queasy himself.

“What is it?” he coaxed.

She didn’t answer for a moment. Rocking back and forth as though waiting for the pain to ease, she finally indicated her right ankle. “I wrenched it.”

“Kimberly! Aunt Lauren broke her leg,” Brandon called.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Kim asked, hurrying over, Tank and Lucy right behind her.

Harley shook his head. “No need for an ambulance. I’ll carry her to her car and take her to the emergency room to have an X-ray. Any chance you could stay here with Brandon? The chicken’s not quite done, and there’s no need for the rest of you to miss the picnic.”

“Is that okay with you, Lauren?” Kimberly asked.

Lauren nodded, her face now pale, but Brandon immediately protested.

“I don’t want to stay here!”

“You haven’t had anything to eat,” Harley told him.

“I don’t care. I want to go to the hospital with you.”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Lauren said. “I just sprained my ankle, no big deal. I’ll take it easy for a few days, and everything will be fine.” She tried to get up but collapsed back onto the ground when her ankle wouldn’t support even a portion of her weight.

Harley bent to examine the injury. “I think we should have a doctor look at it.”

“It’s better to be safe,” Kimberly chimed in. “You want it to heal right, Lauren. Let Harley run you over to the hospital. Tank and I will take good care of Brandon while you’re gone.” She put a hand on Brandon’s neck. “You’ll stay with us, won’t you, Bran? And help us keep an eye on Lucy? Your father and Lauren will be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” Brandon relented.

Lauren blew a stray wisp of hair out of her face. “I guess a trip to the hospital is what I get for trying to show off my football prowess,” she said with a smile, but it seemed to Harley that her attempt at humor was aimed at keeping them from realizing just how much pain she was in.

“You nearly had the ball, too, Aunt Lauren. You were doing really good,” Brandon told her, which was an absolute lie and everyone knew it. But his son’s desire to make Lauren feel better brought a smile to Harley’s lips.
Lauren had done well by Brandon. He might not have had much of a mother, but he had a great aunt, and it was obvious they loved each other very much.

A second later, Harley’s smile disappeared as he remembered the conversation he’d had with his own mother just last night. “I can’t wait until you take Brandon away from those snooty Worthingtons,” she’d said gleefully, an echo of his own feelings—once. But everything had changed. How could he take Brandon away from Lauren now?

Then again, how could he leave him behind?

“I
DON’T SUPPOSE
you’d let me take you to the hospital on my bike,” Harley said, the devilish glint in his eyes telling Lauren he was teasing, possibly to distract her from the pain. But he didn’t need to do anything special by way of distraction. Being carried in the cradle of his arms was more than enough.

Lauren purposely kept her arms loose around his neck; he seemed to bear her weight quite easily and she didn’t want Kimberly and Tank to see her clinging to him as they made their way across the grass. But the impulse to tighten her grip, and snuggle closer shot from her brain to her arms every few seconds.

“I think I’ll be more comfortable in my car,” she said, twisting to catch sight of the sleek, diabolical machine parked next to her Lexus at the far end of the lot. That motorcycle was going to be the death of her. Before the picnic, Brandon had spent a full fifteen minutes begging her to let him ride on the back, “just to the park.” By the time she’d convinced him that her answer wasn’t going to change, she’d felt absolutely pummeled by his verbal onslaught. And Harley hadn’t helped much. He hadn’t interfered or tried to override her decision, but she could tell he wasn’t happy with her refusal.

“Are you ever going to let me give you a ride?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the repercussions of a solid “no” right now. Her ankle
was hurting too badly. She just wanted to get to a doctor and take some painkillers.

And she wanted to snuggle closer….

“Is that a yes?”

“Since when does ‘maybe’ mean ‘yes’?”

“It doesn’t. But it means I have a good chance at a yes.”

“You have a better chance at a no.”

“Come on,” he said, giving her an adorable, little-boy scowl. “Really?”

Lauren had never wanted to ride on a motorcycle before, but the thought of clinging to Harley held a certain undeniable appeal. Maybe she’d injured more than her ankle when she fell; maybe she’d hit her head.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe means maybe. I can’t promise you anything.”

“Why not?” he asked, his feet now crunching on the loose gravel in the lot as they wove through the parked cars.

“Will you stop pressuring me?” she said with a groan. “You sound like Brandon. I can’t take it from both of you. Besides, you have me at a disadvantage. I’m injured.”

“And I’m going to take care of you,” he said. “Just like I’d take care of you if you ever got on the back of my bike.”

“That’s a completely illogical argument,” she complained. “You can’t control what other drivers on the road might do, so you can’t guarantee my safety.”

He shifted her to get a better grip, and Lauren could tell from the perspiration on his brow and neck that hauling her such a long distance was starting to tax him. “Forget about being the Queen of Debate for a minute,” he said. “Some things aren’t logical. They’re instinctual.”

Lauren’s instincts were telling her all kinds of things about Harley. She just didn’t know whether or not to trust
them because they were telling her to trust
him.
“If I go for a ride with you, Brandon will never quit begging me for a turn,” she pointed out.

“Then you and I will go some night when Brandon’s in bed. We can have Kim come over and sit with him. He’ll never even know.”

Lauren hadn’t intended to spend
any
evenings alone with Harley. Limiting their contact was all part of her “distancing” plan. “Are you trying to show me it’s safe so I’ll eventually let Brandon enjoy the experience?” she asked. “Are you trying to break me down?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Brandon.”

“Then why does it matter whether or not I go?”

A look of irritation, or maybe it was disappointment, flickered across his face, but then it was gone and he shrugged as well as he could while carrying her. “Never mind. You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

It did matter. Lauren could hear it in his voice. She just couldn’t figure out
why
it mattered. He had access to his son. What did he want with her?

“Where’re the keys?” he asked when they finally reached the car.

“They’re in my pocket. I didn’t want to worry about watching my purse while we were at the park.”

He let her down gently, continuing to bear most of her weight, but her ankle still hurt badly enough to make her want to cry.

“Hang on to me so you don’t fall. I’ll get them,” he said. He slipped a hand into her front pocket, which would have been fine, except her pants were snug and her pocket had worked its way over. Only a thin lining separated his fingers from a very sensitive area.

Lauren drew in a deep breath and thought her ankle had miraculously healed. For a moment, she felt no pain, just the kind of thrill she enjoyed on a good roller-coaster.
Except that a roller-coaster had never made her cheeks grow warm….

“I don’t know if I’ve ever met a woman who blushes as easily as you do,” he said, pulling the keys out of her pocket. But he was grinning when he said it, and she wondered if he hadn’t been a little overzealous in their extraction.

“I don’t blush easily,” she protested. “I’m probably getting a fever from my broken ankle.”

“Feeling a little warm?”

“Maybe.”

His grin widened into a knowing smile. “Well, I’ve got news for you. That’s no fever.”

H
ARLEY COULD TELL
the pain medication was starting to kick in and finally relaxed. Lauren was going to be fine. The doctor had said her ankle wasn’t broken, just badly sprained, and had advised her to ice it, wrap it and stay off her feet for a few days.

Owing to a car accident, several ambulances had arrived at the same time they did, and it had taken longer to get in and be seen than Harley had thought it would. They’d been at the hospital for more than three hours.

“Who’re you calling?” Lauren asked, when he dialed Tank on his cell phone.

“Just checking on Brandon.”

“Thanks,” she said, “You’re a pretty devoted dad.”

Harley smiled, liking the compliment almost as much as the response he’d gotten earlier, when he’d had his hand in her pocket, although she’d avoided eye contact with him ever since. Even now she leaned her head against the wall and glanced away as Kimberly answered Tank’s cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kim. It’s Harley.”

“Oh, good. We’ve been worried. How’s Lauren?”

“She’s doing great. The doctor gave her some Vicadin, so she’s a little sleepy, but the pain has eased, and her ankle’s not broken.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Where are you?”

“We’re still at the hospital, waiting for a prescription. We’ll be free to go in a minute, but I don’t think I should bring Lauren back to the park. She needs some rest.”

“We’re not at the park anymore. We’re over at Tank’s, watching a movie.”

“Okay. We’ll swing by and pick up Brandon on our way to Lauren’s.”

Kimberly paused. “Actually, we’re watching the old
Star Wars
trilogy, and Brandon seems to be enjoying himself. Besides that, he’s keeping Lucy occupied. Any chance you’ll let him stay a little longer?”

Tank said something in the background, something that made Kimberly laugh as though they were old friends, but then she came back on the line. “How ’bout I drop him by when I leave here? Tank will bring your bike at the same time. That way you can fill Lauren’s prescription and take her straight home.”

“That sounds fine,” Harley said. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. See you later.”

“Is Brandon okay?” Lauren asked as soon as he’d hung up.

“Yeah. He’s going to stay with Kim and keep Lucy occupied for a few more hours, if that’s okay with you. They’re watching a movie at the apartment.”

She smiled. “Things must be going well with Tank.”

“What’s that mean?” he asked. “Kim doesn’t like Tank, does she?”

“I think so. But she won’t admit it.”

“She could do worse. Tank’s a good guy.”

The nurse stuck her head in the room and handed him the promised prescription. “Have her take one of these every four hours as needed for the pain,” she said. “And
you might want to buy or borrow a pair of crutches to help her get around over the next few days.”

“Right. Thanks,” Harley said.

“My pleasure. I’ll get you a wheelchair to bring her to the car.”

The nurse disappeared and returned only moments later with the wheelchair. Harley helped Lauren inside it, then wheeled her out to the car.

“Why are
you
taking care of me?” she asked suddenly.

“Is there someone else you wish was here instead?” he replied, assisting her into the passenger seat. He’d asked the question flippantly, pretending to tease her, just in case her answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

At first he thought she wasn’t going to respond. She let him buckle her seat belt without saying anything. But before he could go around to get in the driver’s side, she caught him by the arm.

“No. There never has been,” she said and, judging by her tone and her face, she was serious.

“S
O
K
IMBERLY’S GOING
to bring Brandon home?” Lauren asked Harley, who was helping her hobble down the hall to her bedroom on her new crutches.

He turned and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve asked me that three times already,” he told her. “I think the Vicadan’s made you a little loopy. Kimberly is bringing Brandon. I’ll make sure he has dinner and I’ll get him into bed. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Somehow this didn’t comfort her. She
wasn’t
worried about Brandon; she knew he was safe with Kim. She was more worried about Harley’s constant presence and the way the painkiller seemed to be affecting her mind. It was all craziness, of course, but there were moments when it seemed as if Harley was the man she’d been waiting for, the one who could claim her entire heart.

“So…you’re staying overnight?” she asked tentatively.

“I figured I’d crash on the couch, in case you or Brandon need anything during the night.”

“We have lots of extra beds.”

“That’s okay. I’ll hang out in the family room. Then we’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow.”

Lauren thought about the dark, still house, Brandon sound asleep in his room, Harley just down the hall, and felt a tingle in the pit of her stomach. Remembering the pocket experience, she couldn’t help wondering what he might be able to do with some privacy, a bed and a willing partner, then cursed the painkiller again and shook her head. So much for never having had a fantasy…

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No. I think I’m losing my mind,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Harley turned down her bed and she relinquished her crutches and sat on the edge, planning to undress and change into her nightgown. But first, she had something to do.

“Would you hand me that telephone over there, please?” she asked.

He reached across the bed and got it for her, then watched as she dialed. “Who’re you calling?”

“My parents.”

He grimaced. “Let’s not do that.”

“If you’re going to stay, I have to,” she said.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t leave the room, either. Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, he watched as she waited for the hotel operator to answer.

“The Ritz. How may I direct your call?”

“Quentin Worthington’s room, please.”

“Just a moment.”

When the phone started to ring in her parents’ room,
Lauren hung up before anyone could answer. “They’re still in London,” she breathed. “Thank God.”

Harley hooked his thumbs in his jeans and looked at the carpet, a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Lauren asked.

He raised his eyes to hers, but the frown remained. “This is beginning to feel familiar,” he said.

H
ARLEY BLINKED
into the darkness, wondering what had awakened him. The room was nice and cool, the couch comfortable. Kim had brought Brandon home around suppertime. Harley had fed him, they’d played Nintendo and his son had gone to bed, then Harley had checked on Lauren, who’d been asleep ever since placing the call to her parents. He’d settled in the family room and watched some television before finally nodding off. But according to the clock above the fireplace, it was only two. He’d slept barely three hours.

Throwing off the blanket he’d used to cover himself, Harley pulled his jeans over his boxer briefs, got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Maybe he was worried about his business. Weekends were the most profitable, but he’d been too involved with Brandon—and Lauren—to even call Joe today. He could only hope his manager was handling everything reasonably well and there’d still be a business left when he got back.

He opened the fridge and scrounged around, looking for something to eat. He wasn’t really hungry, but he was hoping to distract himself from the thoughts hovering at the edges of his mind. Thoughts about taking Brandon to California. Thoughts about Quentin Worthington and the anger and resentment he evoked. Audra and those early years. And Lauren. Lauren was the most difficult subject of all because Damien was right—Harley wanted her. But it was more than that. He cared about her. A lot.

I’ll forget about her once Brandon and I hit California,
he promised himself. He had to. Getting involved with Lauren was only asking for more of what he’d suffered ten years ago. It wasn’t as though he could expect Lauren to choose him over her father. If Audra couldn’t do it, Quentin’s favored Lauren certainly wouldn’t be able to—and that was assuming she felt something for him in the first place. Remembering the way she’d treated him at karate, Harley knew he couldn’t take even that much for granted.

With a sigh, he closed the fridge without raiding it as he’d planned and leaned his forehead against the cool metal surface. He was stupid for putting himself in this position again. He had to keep his mind on Brandon and forget everything else. But the only way Harley could justify taking Brandon with him was to allow Lauren ample visitation, which meant he couldn’t cut her out of his life completely. He’d see her and want her and tell himself
no
and stay locked in a never-ending circle.