The Hotter You Burn

West peered down at the screen, features tightening with anger as he studied the pictures the girl had sent. One of her and Daniel Porter, and one of her and Dorian Oliver. The text read, Need an honest unbiased opinion. Which 1 should I choose????

“Let’s go.” West was already striding toward the door.

Now that was more like it.

As they settled in Beck’s car, another text from Harlow came in. He almost couldn’t bring himself to look. Almost.

GUSS WHATTTT? Dori—that’s wat I cal him now—scarred Scott away 4 me. He’s may new hero. I ow him. What should I giv him???? Do U kno if he liks cherries?

Beck put the pedal to the metal.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

Harlow and her whiskey sisters had indeed drunk straight from the bottle, and after they’d finished the good stuff, they’d turned to the hard, cheap stuff. They’d talked and laughed too loud and almost gotten kicked out of Two Farms. Then, about an hour ago, Dorian arrived and Jessie Kay explained the life or death plan—make Beck wish he were dead—or you know, married.

Dorian had taken a page from Beck’s playbook and given Mr. Calbert, the owner, a wad of cash to rent the restaurant for the rest of the day, and the other patrons were escorted out. Except for the superadorable Daniel Porter, whom Jessie Kay had texted and asked to join them.

“It’s been five whole minutes,” Brook Lynn said. “Time for another picture. Kenna! Camera!”

Ever obedient, Harlow posed on Dorian’s lap yet again while Kenna snapped more pictures and Dorian told her all about his double date with Beck.

“I’m serious,” Dorian said. “The guy had zero interest in his girl and talked about his ‘little hag’ all night.”

“That’s cool, I guess.” If cool was the new word for awesome. She couldn’t even bring herself to be offended by the nickname.

“Okay, y’all. I’ve got a brilliant idea about digital strip poker,” Jessie Kay called, motioning to Harlow’s phone. “Tell Beck all about it, so he can tell West.”

Harlow started typing as Jessie Kay explained the rules.

I’m gona get nakid.

That should cover all the details right? Send.

“Now,” Harlow said to Dorian. “Tell me more. About the date, about Beck, about everything.” Was the room spinning?

Holding her up to prevent her from falling, Dorian said, “If you want him, he’s yours, and even if he’s loath to admit it—even to himself—he’ll be the best damn boyfriend you’ve ever had. I remember the way he used to look at couples who were clearly in love. He wanted what they had, just couldn’t admit it then, either. Stick it out, and he’ll realize the truth. Growing up in the system can really mess you up. He just needs to heal.”

Yeah, but how much time? Would she end up broken in the process?

Maybe, but wounds could be kissed better.

“You Strawberry Valley girls must be addictive,” Dorian remarked, peering at Jessie Kay, who was now dancing around the room. “I’ve been warned away from the Dillon sisters.”

“Jase is gaga over Brook Lynn, but who told you to stay away from Jessie Kay?”

The front door burst open before he could reply, and Beck and West came storming into Two Farms like avenging angels. Harlow’s heart kicked into a frenzied beat. The plan had actually worked? Beck scanned the room and when his gaze landed on her, he closed in.

Meanwhile, West marched over to Jessie Kay.

“Showtime.” Dorian helped Harlow stand.

The swiftness of the action caused her stomach to lurch. “Curses! I think I’m going to be sick.”

Beck reached her a second later and gently extracted her from his friend. “Time to go. Now.”

Sick could wait. The man of her dreams was here! She threw her arms around him and tried to climb him like a mountain.

He held on to her while lecturing Dorian. The words were lost to her, a strange buzz in her ears. Beck anchored her against him and petted her hair, and she must have passed out after a few minutes, held so comfortingly in his embrace, because the next thing she knew she was floating... No, she was being tossed here and there in the deep end of an ocean. Her stomach gave another lurch, and she moaned.

Floating again...a hard jostle.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Beck said. “I’ve got you.”

She was on her knees in a cornfield, she realized. Beck held on to her hair as she leaned over and threw up every drop of liquid she’d consumed that day, and maybe five days prior. When she finished, darkness descended over her mind and she was floating again...cool clouds settling beneath her, a chilled wet cloth wiping over her brow, her mouth.

“Beck,” she moaned.

“I told you. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”

With those words echoing in her mind, soothing her in a way nothing else could have, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

GROANING, HARLOW HISSED at the sunlight streaming in through the window.

Was she sick?

Oh...crap. She was worse, she thought, memories from last night downloading straight into her brain. She was still alive.

“Here. Take these.”

Beck’s voice, but it was far too loud. Slowly she turned her head toward him. He stood at the edge of the bed. His bed. He held out two white pills and a glass of water.

Why was he being so nice to her? “Thanks,” she muttered, swallowing the pills and a gulp of ice-cold water. Her stomach protested at first but soon settled down.