I think of Harper’s smiles, her laughter, the softness in her face when I do something to make her happy.
I think of her body and the baby and the way she’s so passionate about food.
I think of her crochet project and her mom. I think of her asshole of a father and the nightmare my parents created for me.
And I think of finding the strength to take the first steps forward.
And how fucking incredible it feels to finally stop being a chicken shit and go after what I want.
Because I’ve fallen completely, totally head over heels in love with Harper.
And…that’s not scary, doesn’t make me want to run.
Nope. It makes me want to stay.
“Yeah,” he says, bumping his shoulder against mine. “You get it, Ricky boy.”
“So do you,” I tell him even as I groan over the nickname. That. Will. Just. Not. Die.
“Damn right, I do.”
“With you and Luns at the helm that Blue Line Matchmaker doesn’t stand a chance.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” he exclaims as he turns and marches into the house.
I’ve likely lit a fire under Smitty’s ass that he doesn’t need.
But…c’est la vie.
Watch out, Sawyer and Lainey.
I have the feeling they’re not going to know what hit them.
Though—as Smitty said—having come through the other side of it, I think they’ll feel the same thing I do.
Peace.
Which is why I’m smiling as I snag the rest of the food, close Harper’s trunk, and walk all the way into the house.
Ready to spend the night with my family.
And the woman I’ve fallen in love with.
Thirty-Three
Harper
I look over his shoulder, and he chuckles.
“Don’t say my pot washing skills are as bad as my knife skills.”
My lips twitch. “Is this where I say you missed a spot?”
He chuckles and goes back to scrubbing and I rest my cheek against the outside of his shoulder, unabashedly soaking in his strength as he does the dishes.
We’ve spent time together every day since Luna had her baby, though not the nights together—or at least, not the parts of the night my body is desperate for.
No naked fun time.
