Free Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel by Octavia McKenzie Page A

in his life. To be there for him when he got home from a hard day, to cook for him, take care of him if he’s sick, make him laugh when he takes himself too seriously, to be his warmth if he was cold, to give him my time, affection, to just be in the same room with him.” Harper closed her eyes. She had no idea she was crying.
    Cynthia touched her shoulder. Harper spun around. “This was a mistake, I had no right to come here.”
    Harper walked swiftly to the door.
    “Harper? Wait!” Cynthia had to run to keep up with her.
    “What is he like?”
    Harper sighed. “He’s the most beautiful man on earth,” she said achingly. She rushed past the maid and out the door.
    Cynthia watched her through lace curtains. A man stood by the gate. Harper froze at the sight of him. They exchanged words. He draped a hand around her neck. To the casual observer it seemed like a show of affection. Cynthia would’ve thought so too until he dug his finger nails in her neck like claws. Cynthia gasped.
    “What is it miss?” the maid asked.
    “Imogen, I need you to do something for me, it’s of the utmost importance.”
    “Yes, anything.”
    “Follow that couple, be discreet, I want an address.”
    “Yes miss.” 

Chapter 15
    Donavan was a mean drunk. He said cutting, awful things to anyone stupid enough to come near him. The scalding liquid burn obliterated thoughts of her . She haunted him with her frigging beauty and wit. Now Harper gave her exquisite body and her heart to someone else.
    “All my fault,” he muttered.
    The images of his dad and Mrs. Gilbert swam before him. The woman who became more than a housekeeper to him and a second mother, wept by the doorway. Her red rimmed eyes, pale face and quivering chin went in and out of focus. Allister knelt beside him, shockingly sober. His father tried to take the bottle.
    “Get your own!” Donavan growled in his father’s face. Allister flinched. His blond silver hair stood on end as if he’d been pulling it. His blue eyes, identical to his son’s were piercingly intense.
    “Son, please give me the bottle.”
    Donavan glared at Allister blurry eyed.
    “Why don’t you join me?” he said, “We can bond, see who can puke their guts out first.”
    Mrs. Gilbert sobbed. “Whatta matter Mrs. G? Why you cry?”
    “Donavan Ethan McClain give me the damn bottle.”
    Why the hostile tone? “All right already, no need to shout.”
    Donavan handed the bottle to him. Allister gave it to Mrs. Gilbert who held it away from her like an armed grenade. She left to confiscate it.
    “Oh Jesus,” Allister said, “What have I done?”
    Donavan leaned his head back. He sat on the greenhouse floor. His face ruddy with intoxication. Watery blue eyes blinked hard. Allister’s grief stricken face hovered at the edges of consciousness.
    “You are the best man I know,” Allister said tenderly, “You’re better than this, stronger than me, son, whatever it is, you need to fight.”
    “I hurt her, hurt her so much and now-”
    “Who?” Allister asked urgently.
    “Harper.”
    His father’s eyebrows snapped together. “The little girl you argue with?”
    In Allister’s drunken stupor he missed a few years.
    “She’s freaking huge,” Donavan said. “Tall, curvy, pretty girl.”
    Realization dawned. Allister’s harsh expression softened. “Oh my boy, you love her.”
    Donavan laughed mirthlessly. “It doesn’t matter, I lost her.”
    “So you’re going to give up, just like that?”
    “Yep, she moved on.”
    “Do you know that for sure?”
    Donavan blinked. Something in his mind clicked. Harper never texted him. If I have something to say to you Thor, I’ll call you, rip you through the phone or yell in your face, take your pick.
    Donavan tried to get up but fell on his ass. Three bottles of brandy will do that to a grown man, especially one not used to drinking.
    “I’ll help you up.” Allister pulled him to his feet.
    Donavan stumbled. The room swayed. “Mrs.