Defending Harlow (Mountain Mercenaries #4)(74)

Her visitor knocked again, and this time she heard, “Harlow? Are you in there? Open the door.”

Lowell.

Hurrying now, she headed for the door. “Coming!” she called out. She was thrilled he was there. Lowell was just what she needed right now. She’d been depressed all afternoon and worried about not only Loretta, but all “her” kids and the women who lived in the shelter. She had no idea where they’d go or what they’d do. She had no doubt Loretta would do what she could to make sure they were in a safe place, but she hated the thought of not seeing them every day.

Unlocking the dead bolt and the knob, Harlow quickly swung the door open.

“Hi!” she said brightly.

Without a word, Lowell pushed past her, leaving her staring at his back as he stalked into her apartment.

Closing the door slowly, Harlow relocked it and followed Lowell. When she caught up with him, he was standing in her kitchen, his palms resting on the countertop, his head lowered.

She could see his knuckles were bruised, but otherwise he looked okay. “Lowell?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

He looked up then. His dark eyes pinning her in place. “Why did you leave the shelter early?” he asked. No, he didn’t ask—he demanded.

Feeling her hackles rise, Harlow crossed her arms over her chest. She’d had a terrible day, and him bursting into her apartment and being rude wasn’t exactly how she wanted it to continue.

“Am I not allowed to do anything without your permission?” she asked.

Instead of making him realize that he was being somewhat of an ass, her words seemed to rile him up even more. “No. Not when Brian Pierce and his cronies are out there determined to harass you simply because you work at the shelter.”

“Who?” Harlow asked, confused.

But he either didn’t hear her question or decided to ignore it, because he went on. “From now on, until I tell you differently, you will text me anytime you go anywhere. I want to know where you are at all times.”

“I don’t think so,” Harlow enunciated carefully.

“That’s how it’s going to be, Harlow, and you just need to deal with it.”

She shook her head. “Get out.”

“No,” Lowell said, standing up straight and mimicking her stance, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I mean it, Lowell. You can’t come in here being all weird and then act like you own me. No one owns me. I’m thirty-four years old, and I’ve lived on my own for a really long time. I’m not a child, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

He dropped his hands and took a step toward her.

Instinctively, Harlow backed away, immediately tripping over her own feet in the process. She yelped and fell, landing on her ass and the hand she’d put back to break her fall.

One second she was on the floor, cradling her sore wrist, and the next she was in Lowell’s arms, and he was carrying her to the couch.

“Put me down!” she demanded. On one hand, she loved having Lowell’s arms around her. It wasn’t often that she’d been carried in her life. But on the other hand, she was mad at him. She had no idea what happened to the man she was falling for, but the angry, demanding asshole standing in her kitchen had knocked her for a loop. The last thing she wanted was a man telling her what she could and couldn’t do. Especially when she’d had a horrible day.

Instead of putting her down, he sat on the couch with her on his lap. The second he sat, she struggled to get up, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her still even as he reached for her wrist with his free hand. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“It’s fine.”

“Let me see,” he demanded.

Sighing, knowing he wasn’t going to let her go until she let him examine her wrist, she held it out. He gently manipulated the joint, watching her face as he did, trying to make sure she wasn’t in pain as he moved her wrist back and forth.

“I’m clumsy,” she said after a while. “It’s fine.”

“You didn’t fall because you’re clumsy,” Lowell said softly. “You fell because I scared you, and you were trying to get away from me. I’m sorry, Harlow.”

She didn’t respond, because he was right. She had been frightened of him. Between the look on his face and the hard tone of his voice, she’d immediately second-guessed everything she knew about him, and that sucked.

“I would never hurt you,” he said. “Ever. I came over tonight because I needed to see you. And I scared you. I’m sorry, baby. So fucking sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word, and that was all it took for Harlow to forgive him.

He hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t lifted his hands to her. He hadn’t even raised his voice. Yes, he’d been overbearing and bossy, but in hindsight, she wasn’t actually surprised by that. He’d been that way ever since she’d called him to ask for help. But something was different tonight. That was obviously what she’d been reacting to.

“What happened?” she asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning into him. He kept her sore wrist in his hand, his thumb absently caressing her.

“I was a SEAL,” he said.

Harlow’s brow furrowed. “Yeah.”

“I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. But I’d do them again and again to keep my buddies safe. My friends. My country.”