Defending Morgan (Mountain Mercenaries #3)(88)

Black blinked. “Harlow?”

She chuckled. “I know, I know. I look a lot different than I did sixteen years ago.”

Now that he knew who she was, Black recognized her. She was right—she’d changed a lot since he was eighteen, but he could still see the teenager he’d known in her face. Back then, they’d both been in the yearbook club. He’d joined just to have something else to put on his résumé so he’d look good for recruiters, but she’d been doing it because she loved it. She was constantly taking pictures. She’d had a great eye for that sort of thing.

“Harlow Reese. I’ll be damned,” Black said slowly. “Your hair is longer . . . and more colorful, but of course I know you.”

She blushed—and that was that.

Black was intrigued.

It had been a long time since he’d felt an immediate attraction to a woman like he felt right now. Too long. When he’d first become a SEAL, he’d slept with his share of women who’d trolled the bars looking for Navy guys to bag, but the emotionless encounters had gotten old really fast, and he’d become much more discriminating. Since joining the Mountain Mercenaries, his sex life had all but dried up. But there was something about the woman in front of him that piqued his interest.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Are you in trouble?” The thought of a man being abusive or stalking her was abhorrent.

She held up her hands and shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I’m the new chef. I was hired about two weeks ago.”

Black relaxed a fraction. “If those cookies are any indication, they hired the right person for the job.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. But cookies are easy. Getting the kids to eat their vegetables is way tougher. Can I ask you something?”

Black immediately nodded. “Of course.”

Harlow looked around, as if she wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard, before asking, “You work at a gun range, right?”

“I not only work at one, I own it,” Black told her.

“Oh. Well . . . um . . . I was wondering if you had any beginner gun-safety classes?”

Black narrowed his eyes, all his attention on the woman in front of him now. She no longer met his gaze and had her arms crossed defensively in front of her.

“Are you in trouble, Harl?” Black asked, using the nickname she’d used back in high school.

She shook her head. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. I would just like to get more familiar with guns and how they work. You know . . . for my own protection.”

Again, Black didn’t like the sound of that. He gently took her elbow in his hand and lifted his chin to the director of the shelter. Loretta Royster was in her midsixties and not only was in charge of the nonprofit organization but also owned the building. She waved at him and turned her attention back to a pair of children standing in front of her.

Black steered Harlow into the hallway and back toward the kitchen, where he assumed she’d come from. The appliances were as old as the building, but apparently that didn’t matter, because the cookie he’d eaten earlier had been delicious.

Harlow pulled away from his touch and absently began to wipe down the already-clean counter, obviously trying to avoid looking at him while they talked.

“Harlow,” Black said firmly. “Look at me.”

She sighed, then met his gaze.

There was now a counter separating them, but Black could still feel the attraction arching between them. “To answer your question, yes, there are several beginner gun-safety classes offered at my gun range, but if you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I can help.”

She stared at him for a long time before saying, “I’m a big girl, Lowell. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied. “But if you’re in trouble, it could possibly affect the women and kids here. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, but I don’t think you’ve changed so much that you wouldn’t care about that.”

“Of course I care about that,” she said heatedly. “The residents here are why I’m asking in the first place. I want to protect them.”

The second the words were out of her mouth, she bit her lip and looked down at the counter in front of her.

Black’s mind was racing with all the possibilities that could’ve made Harlow seek him out. “Tell me,” he said gently.

Harlow sighed. “I’ve noticed some weird things happening around here. Loretta tries to act like they aren’t a big deal, I think so she doesn’t scare the residents. You know as well as I do how most women came to be here, that most don’t have the best history when it comes to men. There have been some guys hanging around, harassing me when I come to work in the mornings. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but the last thing I want is them doing the same thing to the women and kids who reside here if they don’t get a rise out of me.”

“Are they exes of some of the residents?” Black asked.

“Loretta doesn’t think so, but she’s not sure.”

“She needs to call the cops. Report them.”

“She has. And I’m sure they’ll deal with it, but in the meantime, I’d feel better if I could protect myself.”

Black made a split-second decision. He took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a business card. Grabbing a pen from a table nearby, he scribbled his cell phone number on the back, then held it out to Harlow. “Here’s my card. You call me anytime, day or night, and I’ll get you set up with a beginner’s class. But more than that, if you ever feel scared or uneasy, let me know, and I’ll come over and check things out.”