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Robin reached into her purse and found her phone by touch. As she pulled it out, the overhead light flipped on. She squinted against the sudden brightness and glanced up to see who had caught her.
Please let it be a butler…
Luck was not on her side.
Harper stood there, brow furrowed, blinking back at her.
Unfortunately, he recovered before she could think of something to say. “Robin. Where have you been?”
“The spa,” she replied, clinging to that weak cover story.
His gaze dropped to the pile of poop she’d stepped in. “Oh, great. Here, give me your hand. Leave your shoe there. It might be ruined.”
She didn’t want to agree, but there was just something about those two little dogs. They had nuclear level butt discharge when it came to their poop.
“Something wrong?” a soothing voice called out.
Harper glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, sorry. Looks like we found the other poop pile.”
A uniformed butler appeared at Harper’s elbow. This time it was an older woman with a kind face and silvering hair pulled back into a bun.
“Oh, dear. I’ll handle this,” she said with a cheerful smile.
“Thanks. I should have checked back here when they said something,” Harper grumbled.
Robin left her one shoe next to the pile. Harper didn’t give her a choice about staying to fight for its life, he just pulled her out of the sunroom and into his bedroom.
Crap.
This was what she’d been trying to avoid.
She didn’t know what to say or do, how to act.
Harper turned the lights on and turned to look at her, that frown still creasing his face.
She opened her mouth to say she really should be cleaning up the disaster out there but knew she’d be told by everyone to leave it to the staff.
“I wish you would have told me how upset you were,” he said.
She swallowed at his gentle response. It wasn’t the demand for answers she’d been fearing.
“You left because you were upset and afraid, didn’t you?”
“I left to get some headache medicine,” she reminded him. That at least was technically true.
Harper let go of her hand, crossed his arms over his chest, and arched a brow at her.
She dropped her arms to her side. Her shoulders slumped to the point her purse was barely staying aloft.
“I was scared, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” Though at this point she was moving from fear to anger.
Harper’s arms unwound, and he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. “You should have said so.”
He took the purse from her shoulder and lowered it before letting it fall the last little distance to the carpet. Then he pulled her to him, holding her tight enough it felt like he was trying to squeeze her back together.
“You should have told me. I’d have stayed with you,” he said.
“You would have missed golfing—”
