Yeah, he was flat out grinning now at her obvious adverse reaction.
God, how he wanted her. Let him count the ways. Yup, she made him wax poetic like nothing or no one else had before.
He found himself reaching over before he even realized it—a reflex of need if he’d ever had one—and running his fingers down her arm. Feeling the warmth of her skin on his palm.
She shivered as she glanced over at him. “Yes?”
“How long are we going to be at your parents’?” he asked, letting her know full well exactly what he wanted.
“A couple of hours.”
“And then I get you all to myself?” He grabbed her hand, lacing her fingers with his and bringing it to his mouth.
“And then you get me all to yourself.”
The car ride from the airport to Mirabelle took about an hour, but Liam wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the drive besides the few landmarks that Harper specifically pointed out to him. He vaguely remembered a pickup truck graveyard, where about thirty different rusted metal vehicles sat decaying. And the few lighthouses that were stationed on the river that ran parallel to the road.
But that was pretty much it because he wasn’t paying attention to anything that was going on outside of the car. Nope, he only had eyes for the woman next to him.
How shocking.
Besides he needed to take advantage of the precious time he had with her before they got to her parents’ house, and to prepare himself for the evening.
Now Liam would be lying if he said he didn’t have a small case of nerves as he made his way up the steps of the Laurence household. Yeah, he’d had to charm past girlfriends’ parents on several different occasions…but obviously not with these extenuating circumstances.
And they were some seriously extenuating circumstances.
There was no plausible deniability in the “I’m having sex with your daughter” department. The proof was in the pudding. Fact: Harper was pregnant. Fact: Liam was the one who’d gotten her pregnant.
And he was going to need to prove that he was much more than the sperm donor.
Much, much more.
They walked into the house hand-in-hand and were immediately greeted by two dogs. The larger of the two was on the heels of the tinier one. Liam recognized Luna from all the pictures that Harper had sent him over the last couple of weeks. The dog wriggled her tiny little black body as she circled him, sniffing his shoes.
Luna let out a few friendly barks in greeting, the other dog joining in both the barking and the sniffing.
“This is Luna, and Darby, my parents’ dog.”
Liam set the black bag hanging from his shoulder on the chair next to the door, letting go of Harper’s hand before he crouched down to pet both dogs.
“Hey girls.” He ran his hands down both of their backs a couple of times before lightly scratching their chests. They closed their eyes, both of their back legs thumping against the wooden floor in a steady tap.
“Well, that took you absolutely no time at all to win them over.”
“And I didn’t have to buy either of them a drink first or anything.” He winked up at Harper.
“More jokes? What did I tell you about those?”
Liam straightened, grabbing one of her hands and linking their fingers together as his other hand slid around to her back. He brought his face in close to hers, their mouths mere centimeters away. “Oh, you like it. Admit it.”
“Maybe a little.”
He pressed his lips to hers, because really why wouldn’t he? He would forever take advantage of any and all opportunities that involved them kissing, or touching, or well, anything for that matter.
But just as it was getting really good—her tongue being in his mouth—someone cleared their throat.
Harper pulled away, spinning around. Liam looked up to find her father in the hallway. He had light brown hair, Harper’s eyes, and an unreadable expression covering his face. His eyes dipped to where Harper’s hand was held in Liam’s for just a second before they came back up, focusing on Liam’s face and still revealing absolutely nothing.
So much for good first impressions.
Harper’s hand tightened in his before she let go, taking a step toward her father. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, sweet pea.” Mr. Laurence wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the temple before pulling back. “This him?” He looked at Liam.
“This is him.” Harper nodded.
Liam stepped forward, sticking his now free hand in front of him as he moved. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Laurence.”
Mr. Laurence’s hand tightened as he shook Liam’s firmly. “So you’re my daughter’s new boyfriend.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Laurence’s eyes looked Liam over again, for a good couple of seconds that almost—almost—made Liam squirm. “Well, all right then. You can call me Paul. No need for this sir or mister nonsense. You want a gin and tonic?” he asked, letting go of Liam’s hand as the corner of his mouth twitched, the only indication that he might possibly be okay with how things were.
Or maybe was somewhere in the realm of being okay. He was apparently accepting enough to make him a drink.
The sudden shift had Liam coming up short, but he recovered almost instantly. “Absolutely,” he said, and nodded.
Liam grabbed the bag on the chair, slipping the strap on his shoulder. And then he was reaching for Harper’s hand—a hand that she was holding out for him as she gave him a sideways smirk—and they walked to the kitchen, following behind Paul.
“Well, that’s one hurdle down,” he whispered to her.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sparky. The next one is going to be about as easy as clearing the Empire State Building,” she said right before they walked into the kitchen.
Delilah Laurence was at the oven, pulling a pan out and setting it on top of the stove. All Liam could see was the back of her, the same thick black curtain of hair as Harper’s hitting her right between the shoulder blades. She was just a tad bit shorter and more slender than her daughter, but as she turned and he saw her face, the relationship was obvious.
Same full lips and almond-shaped eyes, though hers were a light blue as opposed to the violet that Harper and her father shared.
“Ahh, you’re here.” Mrs. Laurence pulled the oven mitts from her hands as she crossed the room, setting them on the kitchen island before she untied her apron and put it on the counter as well.
“Mom, this is Liam.”
“Mrs. Laurence.” He nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Harper’s mother folded her arms across her chest as she looked him over. The scrutiny in her eyes well surpassed what he’d been through just moments before with Paul. “So you’re the father of my first grandchild?”
Well, she was just going to jump right on in now, wasn’t she?
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, still implementing his don’t look away strategy. It was like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
“Harper says I need to give you a chance, so I’m going to.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Mrs. Laurence.”
“Good.” That one word was dripping in skepticism. The we’ll just see about that heard loud and clear by everyone in the room.
All right. He could deal with this. He wasn’t going to cower. He refused. Getting her approval was an obstacle he needed to figure out, and he would. There wasn’t any other option, because in the end he was going to be with Harper.
“I brought you and Mr. Laurence something for having me over tonight,” Liam said, holding up the bag in his hand. He might as well start with presents.
“Paul,” Mr. Laurence corrected while Mrs. Laurence said nothing.
She had no problems with ma’am or missus. He apparently would not be calling her Delilah anytime soon.
“Harper told me you were the family chef and an excellent one at that,” Liam said as he pulled out the square box from the bag. It was about one foot by one foot, four inches tall, and made of solid wood.