Defending Harlow (Mountain Mercenaries #4)(13)

He held open the passenger-side door for her as she settled into the seat, and shut the door once she was safely inside. Harlow studied Lowell as he confidently strode around to the driver’s side.

She wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her feel so comfortable. She wasn’t like this with most men, at least she hadn’t been in the past. She and Lowell were the same height, but somehow he seemed so much bigger than her. Harlow knew a lot of that was his personality and confidence. He oozed competence and put out a dangerous vibe. She’d sensed it the first time she’d seen him a month ago. He made her want to spill her guts, tell him everything.

Even that afternoon, as he’d sat next to her in the kitchen and patiently waited for her to tell him what had been going on, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from blurting out everything she’d been thinking. It was weird, and even a little scary.

But not scary like when she’d gone out with a man she’d met online and he’d stared at her with big bloodshot eyes all night. She’d had no desire back then to fill the awkward silence as she had with Lowell.

He settled himself into the driver’s seat and smiled over at her. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she told him.

Still grinning, Lowell backed out of the parking space and headed for the exit. He steered toward the interstate and Harlow asked, “Why are you going this way?”

“I thought I’d show you what this baby can do,” Lowell told her, caressing the dashboard.

Harlow rolled her eyes. She knew she’d been doing that a lot around him, but she couldn’t help it. “You know, I once let a guy pick me up, and he’d wanted to do the same thing—wanted to show off his car and how fast it could go.”

“And?” Lowell asked when she didn’t continue with her story.

She turned to him. “Oh, he showed me how fast he could go, all right. I was holding on to the oh-shit handle so tightly, I know I probably left fingernail marks. He gunned it to over a hundred miles an hour and was all proud of himself, but then red and blue lights went off behind us, and he started swearing and panicking. I was crying and pleading with him to pull over, to stop the car, but he only went faster.”

Lowell’s hand took hold of hers, and instead of pulling her hand away, she held on. Generally, she tried to keep her dating experiences light and often joked about them. But that particular incident still had the power to freak her out. She didn’t know why she’d brought it up in the first place—Lowell definitely wasn’t like that guy—but now that she had, she couldn’t back out. She rushed through the rest of the story.

“He continued to try to evade the cops, and actually got far enough ahead of them that I guess he felt comfortable stopping.”

“Thank God,” Lowell said, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah. He stopped, then turned to me and said, ‘I’m sorry,’ and threw open his door and ran into the trees on the side of the road.”

“He left you there?” Lowell asked incredulously.

“Yup. And the cops pulled up behind the car and executed a felony stop.”

“Oh shit.”

“Right? I had to put my hands on my head, walk backward toward them, and lie on the asphalt. They swarmed me and handcuffed me and left me right there on the ground as they searched for my date. Eventually, they helped me up and let me talk. I told them that I was on a first—and last—date with the asshole and knew nothing about him. They caught the guy later that night after using dogs to search for him. He had an outstanding warrant for drugs, and he not only had marijuana on him, but a vial of Rohypnol too.”

“Motherfucker,” Lowell said under his breath.

“Yeah. So if it’s all the same to you, I don’t really want to know ‘what this baby can do.’”

“Look at me,” Lowell ordered.

Taking a deep breath, Harlow did.

He was alternating between looking at the road in front of them and running his eyes over her face in concern. “I was teasing you because I noticed that you don’t exactly drive your Mustang like Danica Patrick.”

“Who?”

His lips quirked, but then he looked worried again. “No one. I’m not going to put your life in danger. When you’re with me, you’re safe. I don’t do drugs. I’m not wanted by the police for anything, and I’d sooner stab myself in the eye with a rusty fork than do anything that will scare you.”

His words both reassured and calmed her. “Thank you.”

“You really haven’t had good luck in picking dates, have you?” Lowell asked with a smile.

Harlow tried to relax in the seat and shook her head. “No. But in my defense, before that particular date, my mom had just lectured me about getting older and how she wanted grandbabies. So I was trying to show her that I was trying. I should’ve just told her to mind her own business.”

“I know how that goes. My mom is dying to have grandbabies to spoil as well, but between me and my brother, she’s despaired of ever having them.”

“You don’t want kids?” Harlow asked, trying to ignore the fact that Lowell hadn’t let go of her hand.

“It’s not that I don’t want them,” he said. “I just haven’t met a woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with, never mind having children with.”