Take a Chance (Chance, #1; Rosemary Beach #7)(5)

Grant

Present day

I hadn’t seen her since the night I got the call about Jace. The night I’d . . . the night I’d taken her virginity. She’d been a virgin. I hadn’t expected that. It had been a first for me, too. I had never slept with a virgin before. Something about it affected me deeper than I was comfortable with. Even though I knew I wasn’t ready for commitment in any form, I had wanted to stake a claim. I often wondered if that would have sent me running the next day, even if I hadn’t gotten the call from Tripp.

And finally, here she was. No longer kept from me by her father, or whoever else had made sure I didn’t get near her.

“Last night. It was you,” she said, simply.

I took in her pajamas and felt like cursing and slamming my fist through the wall. I wasn’t a violent guy. I never lost my cool, but right now I was close to it. Harlow was here. She’d heard me and Nan. Holy hell!

“You haven’t called. I didn’t realize.” She stopped talking and shook her head. I couldn’t find the right words. There weren’t any. I had no explanation for this that she would understand. I watched as she put the milk back in the fridge and closed the door. She kept her head down and didn’t look up again before walking around the counter and toward the door. I had to say something. I had to explain myself. I had f**king called. They never let me talk to her when I called the house. She never answered my damn calls when I called her phone. But, f*ck, she didn’t deserve this. Not when she’d trusted me with something as precious as her innocence.

“I guess it’s me who gets to say I told you so this time,” she said in a quiet voice before walking past me. The weight on my chest felt like someone had set a thousand bricks on it. I clenched my hands into fists and closed my eyes. What had I done? And why? Why was I letting Nan f**k up my life?

Why the hell had I drunk so much damn whiskey last night? I would have never come here had I been sober. And Harlow . . . Harlow . . . why was Harlow here? I turned and looked back toward the staircase. A door clicked closed. There was no slamming or yelling with Harlow. She wasn’t that way. Any other woman would have cursed me and possibly slapped me then stormed up the stairs and slammed her door. But not Harlow. That made this even worse. If that was possible.

Two months and three and a half weeks ago . . .

Harlow stepped out of the house, looking unsure of herself. It had taken me twenty minutes to convince her to swim with me. She had made up all kinds of excuses. But I was pretty damn persuasive when I wanted to be. The oversized Slacker Demon concert T-shirt she was wearing covered up whatever swimsuit she’d finally put on. I had been waiting on her for half an hour. I was almost ready to go up to her room and pull her out here myself. I had just gotten back to L.A. a few hours ago. Being in Rosemary was hard when all I could think about was Harlow’s sweet smile. I was anxious to be near her.

“About time. I thought you were gonna make me swim alone,” I said, standing up from the lounger I had been reclining on while waiting.

Harlow blushed. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

As if she needed to apologize. There was no way a man could be even remotely annoyed with her. It was impossible. She was too damn sweet and innocently sexy, which was screwing with my head. There was no way she was that innocent. She was in college. She had to have dated before. In high school the guys would have been all over her.

“You’re here now. Let’s swim. It’s warm out here today.”

Harlow reached for the hem of her shirt and I considered diving in and not watching her take it off. It would be the polite thing to do, but hell if I could convince my eyes that looking away was the best idea. They were zoned in on her every move.

We had been . . . I wasn’t sure what we had been doing. This was the strangest relationship—if you could call it that—I had ever been in. Harlow was letting me get closer every day but she still kept up her barriers. I hadn’t managed to get my lips near her skin again.

My eyes drank in her long legs as the T-shirt slowly lifted, revealing a simple high-necked one-piece white bathing suit. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a girl my age in a one-piece swimsuit. But it was white. Holy f*ck. I felt myself harden as my eyes traveled up from her legs to the nipple I could clearly see pebbled beneath the fabric.

I turned and dove into the water before I scared the hell out of her. I swam the length of the pool before coming up for air and turning to look at her. She was walking down into the pool through the sloping entrance. Damn, she was perfect. She lifted her eyes and smiled at me. It was a good thing my reaction to her was hidden under the water.

Once she was far enough in that the water touched her shoulders, she seemed to relax. Having her body on display made her nervous. It had been all over her face. I couldn’t figure out why. It was like throwing me a challenge. I wanted her body completely on display for me. And I wanted her to like it. To want it.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come swim with the big boys,” I teased. Her mouth puckered up in a frown. She didn’t like me calling her pretty girl. Her reaction to it only made me want to do it more.

“I don’t trust the big boys,” she replied. Her head tilted to the side and she raised one eyebrow.

Chuckling to myself, I couldn’t remember a time in my life that one female had entertained me so much. “Are you scared?”