A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(34)

He glances up as I approach, a slow smile pulling at his lips. “I’d love to tell you this is a coincidence,” he says.

I hike my backpack up on my shoulder. “Are you saying you’re here for me and not a tarot card reading?”

“I am definitely here for you,” he says in that same low voice. “I’ve already had my cards read this week.”

I laugh. “Hope it was good news.” I pause, looking him over. “How did you know I’d be here?”

He shrugs. “Just did.”

I stand on the sidewalk, wondering how Harlin could have guessed something like that. I consider asking him, but I’m afraid of the answer. Does he know about the stories Marceline told me? Does he know about me?

“I have to go,” I say, pointing toward the house. I start down the path to the front door when Harlin calls to me.

“She’s not home,” he says. “I already knocked on the door.”

“Oh.” I stop then, both disappointed and relieved. I want answers, but at the same time, I’m terrified of what they are. “Do you think she’ll be back later?” I ask, not clear on how Harlin fits into the life of an old psychic in the first place.

“Maybe. If you want, I can keep you company while you wait.”

I look around the street. “Here?”

“Or I can take you to lunch,” he offers. “That is, if you’re free?”

“Well,” I say, starting toward him. I don’t know what it is about him, but when I’m around Harlin I’m so much braver. “I guess it depends.”

His mouth spreads in a slow smile. “On?”

I motion toward his bike. “Are you going to take me on that Harley?”

Harlin’s hazel eyes flash wickedly. “Yeah,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I am.”

When he touches me it’s like a current of electricity, warming me all over. He holds my gaze as he licks his bottom lip, the movement sexy. Inviting. I lean forward, planning on kissing him right here on the street. But before I get close enough, he turns away.

“Someone’s looking for you,” he murmurs, letting his hand slip from mine. I’m dazed, caught up in the moment, when I hear my name.

“Elise!”

My stomach drops when I see Abe jog toward us. He waves, casually glancing at Harlin, and then slows down his approach.

I take a step back, feeling like a terrible person. I was just out on a date with Abe last night, and here I am flirting with Harlin. I almost tried to kiss him. What was I thinking after what happened with Abe?

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you, querida,” Abe says with a wry smile. “Off getting harassed by transients again, I see.”

Harlin chuckles from next to me, folding his hands in his lap as he rests back on his bike, not looking intimidated in the least. I, on the other hand, think I might puke.

“Abe,” I say, my voice a little weak. “This is Harlin.” Abe sizes Harlin up with little more than a head nod before turning his dark gaze on me. Technically Abe isn’t my boyfriend. And honestly, after last night, I don’t really want him to be. It was a disaster.

“Elise.” Abe takes my wrist, tugging me gently forward. “We need to talk. I came to meet you, and Margie said you called in. I went to your house—no answer. Then I find you on the street with some . . . guy.”

I don’t appreciate the insinuation, the accusation in his words. Any guilt I had for leading Abe on quickly evaporates. He’s different somehow, his charming exterior fading into possessiveness. But I don’t belong to him.

“Stop,” I say, trying to twist free of his grip.

Abe’s face drains of color and his eyes narrow. Fog begins to slide inside my head, whispering. Blocking out my thoughts.

Leave.

I hear Harlin shift next to me. Suddenly my confusion clears and I yank my arm from Abe, backing up. “Don’t grab me like that,” I say. The skin of my wrist aches, even though he didn’t grip me that hard.

Abe’s color returns immediately and he shakes his head, like he doesn’t know what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a half grin pulling at his lips, boyish and sweet. “I apologize. You can’t blame me for getting a little jealous, can you?” He motions to Harlin.

“I’ll call you when I get home,” I offer, knowing that I can’t avoid the discussion with him. I don’t want to hurt Abe. I know he likes me, and I thought I liked him. But something’s changed.

Underneath his white T-shirt, Abe’s muscles tense and a pained expression crosses his features, as if he heard my thoughts. But then it fades, replaced with something cold.

“Yes, you do that,” he says, backing away. “Don’t forget.” His eyes flick to Harlin’s with some amusement, like it’s an inside joke they share. And then Abe stalks down the street, turning at the next corner.

“Boyfriend?” Harlin asks, adjusting the mirror on his bike.

“Not really,” I say. “I’m not sure what he is, I guess.”

Harlin seems to consider this and then shrugs as if he doesn’t care if I have some weird love affair going on with my coworker. “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he says.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask him. To my dismay, Harlin is quiet long enough to make my insides knot. Then he lowers his eyes.