Page 49 of Hearts Don't Lie

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Page 49 of Hearts Don't Lie

They kept the conversation light throughout dinner, moving indoors just before the storm erupted. Mac shooed Stowe and Hardin out of the kitchen, content to give them some one-on-one time.

When she checked on them, they were playing a game on the console in Stowe’s room, so she left and started a load of laundry—there was always laundry—and swept the floors. When she next checked, Hardin had moved to the beanbag chair behind Stowe and had Homer on his lap. Both he and the rabbit appeared to be asleep. Stowe had his headphones on and was playing intently. She tapped her son’s shoulder.

Stowe paused the game and took off his headphones. “He’s a lightweight, Mom,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder at Hardin and back at her. “Said he was going to close his eyes for just a minute, after I trounced him inSuper Mario.He sucks.”

She kept her voice low too. “You trounced him?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he’s never played. Did you ask?”

“He said he’s played some. Uncle Mike’s played some, but at least he can hold his own with Beck and me.”

“Someis a relative term.”

“So you’ve told me, Mom.”

Mac glanced past her son and saw the smile on Hardin’s face. Her eyes flickered between the matching sets of gorgeous aqua eyes. It was almost too much. Her breath caught, but Stowe didn’t notice. He was staring at the screen, focused on getting back to his game.

“Did you have fun?”

Hardin inclined his head forward, as if he was straining to hear Stowe’s answer.

There were a few beats of silence while Stowe stared at the screen, and then he said, “Yeah. He seems all right. Pretty chill.”

Mac’s eyes swept over her son and held Hardin’s gaze. “Fair warning, honey. There are few who are as competitive as him.”

Stowe’s voice rose. “Do you think he was playing me?”

In her peripheral, behind their son, Hardin shook his head. “I don’t. It’s just not part of his DNA. So I’m with you. He sucks.”

Stowe burst out laughing.

Hardin scowled at her, put the Lop down carefully, and rolled out of the beanbag chair. “What’s so funny?”

“You fell asleep,” Stowe said and frowned. “With Homer.”

Hardin’s eyes locked with Mac’s, out of Stowe’s line of sight, looking pleased. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Stowe pulled out his imaginary violin and played it for Hardin, who looked surprised, but then he smiled.

Mac smiled too. Their son teasing him was a step forward.

“I guess you’d better go then. Get your beauty sleep.”

“Stowe!” she said sharply.

“Sorry.” He swiveled his chair to face Mac and Hardin and shrugged, a smirk on his face. “I’m tired too. My best behavior keeps getting in the back seat. I don’t know how to act around you, Hardin.”

“I get that. How about we focus on being kind?”

Stowe nodded and swiveled around in his chair again, considering the frozen screen in front of him. He took a deep breath and turned it off, stood and faced Hardin, all cockiness gone. “Do you fish?”

“I have.”

“Better than you game?”

“I’m not sure. I was a boy, around your age.”


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