Where We Belong by Shann McPherson

Author:Shann McPherson [MacIntosh, Portia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2019-12-31T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

I had it all worked out in my head. My plan was foolproof. At least, I’d thought it was. But with every ounce of beer that I consumed, the more the finer points of my shoddy plan began to blur into a pixelated haze I couldn’t for the life of me remember the details of. It was simple. All I had to do was get drunk enough so I could forget about Nash, and try it on with Harley without being all conspicuous and awkward about it. I was going to test myself. To see if my feelings for him were real, or if it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

Easy, right? You’d think so, huh.

I wrap my arms around Harley’s shoulders, standing on my tiptoes, and I crane my neck to place a kiss on his cheek. Of course, he shoots me a confused look, his brow furrowed as he tries to make sense of my unexpected act of affection. But, thankfully he goes along with it, ducking his head to reciprocate with a kiss on the very tip of my nose; a move so unlike him it renders me a little breathless, but I somehow pull myself together. I tug him closer and he wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face into the crook of my neck, and I breathe him in, quickly becoming lost within his embrace.

I blame the alcohol.

I close my eyes, breathing in his heady scent of cologne, mint and liquor, smiling in an unexpected yet contented bliss. I’ve never felt this before, this all-consuming warmth as it floods through my body. But, when I finally manage to open my heavily lidded eyes, pulling myself from my Harley-induced reverie, I find Nash standing by the jukebox, watching me intently with an unreadable expression on his face. His lips are twisted to the side and his jaw is working overtime, clenching and unclenching, ticking almost painfully. A deep crease is etched between his brows, and his eyes are glaring as he runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders rising and falling in a heavy sigh before he tears his gaze away. I can tell he’s trying to remain unaffected, but I know him better than that. He’s very much affected.

I should be smiling like the Cheshire cat that got the canary. But I’m not smiling. Hell, I’m not even happy about it. I’m indifferent. And I suddenly understand why. With Harley’s arms still enveloping me, his big hands splayed against the small of my back, and that damned scent of his that’s invaded its way into every one of my senses, I feel something I’ve been unprepared to feel up until this point. Nash’s jealousy means nothing to me, because I am wholeheartedly consumed by everything Harley, and I like it. It’s official—my dreaded suspicions are confirmed—I like Harley Shaw. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, but this has nothing to do with how much I’ve had to drink.

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