To Harlow, it sounded like a little slice of heaven. Who cared about the money? If Kenna’s fiancé refused to pay, Harlow had organs she could sell on the black market. Sisters? Yes, please. “I’m in!”

* * *

BECK REALIZED HE’D come full circle. Once again he was seated at the window in his bedroom, peering out at Harlow’s RV. He’d gone to see her about an hour ago, pulled by an invisible chain he couldn’t cut, but she hadn’t answered the door. He’d let himself in like the concerned neighbor he was and discovered she wasn’t ignoring him; she just wasn’t at home.

It was the middle of the day, which was intolerable. She had work to do, damn it. Where was she, and who was she with?

He’d stayed away from her far too long, and it had affected him physically. As he’d already realized, she’d become his new normal, which meant he couldn’t sleep without her in his arms. He couldn’t eat, his stomach tied in too many knots. Not even Brook Lynn’s pie had tempted him.

He’d handled things poorly. Harlow was his friend, and he never should have run out on her after her big confession. But he’d been so surprised...so turned on. So possessive, wanting to be the first and only man to have her. He’d almost signed on for forever, picked her up and carried her to his bed.

A bed he’d shared with too many women to count.

He’d known from the beginning she deserved far better than he had to offer, but that thought had cinched it. She was untouched, pure...and he was tainted.

Despite the red flashing through his vision, he knew he had to find her another guy faster than originally planned. Like, tomorrow. Committed women were invisible to him, he reminded himself. His attraction to Harlow would finally fade. He needed it to fade. He couldn’t go on like this.

So. It was time to take things to the next level. No more dates for Harlow. Instead, he would set up a party and invite every bachelor he knew, and she would then speed-date each and every one; at the end of the night, she would pick her favorite.

He would invite everyone but Dorian.

Yesterday Beck had set up a double date for the two of them, thinking his friend needed to be consoled by another woman. Consoled, not distracted so that he’d stay away from Harlow. But Beck had been a major asshole all night and scared both women away.

His phone buzzed, and he swiped up the device, grateful for the distraction of the text—until he found a picture of Harlow attached. As the image burned past his retinas and into his brain, he jumped to his feet. His sweet little hag was sitting in Dorian’s lap, and the rat bastard was smiling.

The caption underneath read, Lok Beck! Loooook what I fond! A nice slice of jucy man meet!!!!!!!!

The typos were adorable, and he hated himself for thinking so. This was not a humorous situation. Harlow was ruining her future, settling for momentary pleasure with a guy who wasn’t right for her.

R U drunk? he typed.

Her: Only a 9.99. Or maybe 9.99.

Him: Where R U?

As he waited for her reply, he studied the picture in more depth, not allowing himself to focus on Dorian or Harlow, only on the things around them. A wall with wooden slats. A picture of two crumbling white farmhouses tilted on its side. He’d seen that picture before... Where, where...

Two Farms.

His phone buzzed again.

There’s a party in my pants. Want 2 come? <— See what I did there???????

An animal growl rose from deep in his chest. If Dorian touched Harlow while she was in this aroused, drunken state, his hands would end up in Beck’s trophy case.

He made his way to West’s bedroom, the door already open. “I need you to come with me to Two Farms.”

“Why?” West glanced up from the motherboard he was building from scratch. He often worked from home and thankfully today was one of those days.

“Harlow’s drunk, and Dorian’s taking advantage of her.”

Rather than appearing enraged on Harlow’s behalf, West looked to be fighting a grin. “He’s never been the type to take advantage of a drunk woman. If she’s had more than a single glass of something, he’ll back off.”

Beck whipped out his phone and showed his friend the picture. “Does this look like he’s backing off?”

“Fine.” West glanced at the calendar app displayed on his phone, resting beside the computer parts. “I can spare half an hour. Just give me a minute to dress.” He stood, and for the first time Beck noticed the guy wore only a pair of boxer briefs.

Minute after minute passed, his friend searching for the perfect pair of jeans. Beck snapped, “I’d like to leave sometime this year.”

“Which is why I’m hurrying.” West held up two shirts, one all black, the other black with the words Boyfriend Material scripted over the center. “What am I in the mood to wear?” he wondered aloud.

“Dude. I’m seriously about to take away your man card.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got two.”

Beck grabbed the shirt with text, tossed it on the floor and wiped his shoes on it. “This one’s dirty. Wear the one in your hand.”

“Well, well. Someone’s certainly cranky today.”

Someone had an ass-kicking to deliver.

A buzz sounded from West’s desk. Beck walked over and swiped up his friend’s phone, just in case Dorian had decided to circumvent Beck. Maybe ask for a condom. When he saw a message from Jessie Kay, he tossed the phone at West.

“You might want to see this.”