Page 62 of Seeing Harper

Summer sputtered at her unable to even find the words.

“And then there’s the girl that he found that he thinks might be his one, and I don’t know, maybe she is. People can have more than one mate, right? I mean, Uncle Maverik and his mates and then Riley and Maia and Cristie’s birth mother. But surely he wouldn’t have found us both at the same time.”

“You’re mates?” Summer asked, having decided to tackle the information one point at a time.

“I think so. But like I said, he wasn’t in a hurry to declare anything, and he refuses to talk about this girl that he said he might have found. So, should I feel bad that I let what happened — well, practically asked for what happened to happen — though I already knew he thought he might have found his mate? I’m so confused. But at the same time, he was so caring and so gentle and I think he feels what I do, has since we were in high school at least. But, his behavior was confusing. He wants to hide us, but caring and confessing how he felt about me when we were younger, too, you know?”

Summer stood there, her mouth open, her brows raised in shock as she watched Harper ramble on about sleeping with Clay, as though them sleeping together was a normal thing. “I don’t know! What the hell is happening here? There’s a girl? Who’s the girl?” Summer demanded. Then she had a sudden realization. “That’s why you’re bathing yourself in all that awful smelly stuff!”

“I don’t want my father to know until I’m ready for him to know. He’d probably force him to mate me. And while, it would be what I want — I think. It might not be what he wants.”

Summer hadn’t moved a muscle. She was still standing there with her mouth open and her brows almost to her hairline. “I need a drink.”

“It’s not that bad!” Harper said.

“Clay’s not bad at all. But all this back and forth and what does he want and what do I want is confusing as hell!”

“He’s got finals coming up. I can’t distract him to make him talk to me about what all this is right now. Help me find some ground I can stand on that doesn’t make me feel like I’m sinking,” Harper begged.

Summer sighed and finally moved from the spot she’d been frozen in. She took Harper’s hands in hers and looked directly into her eyes. “I don’t know what any of it means, Harper. I wasn’t there. But it would seem to me that if he had even an inkling that this other woman might possibly really be his one, he wouldn’t have had even a slight flirtation with you. That’s not how it works. Once they meet their one, once we meet our one, there is no one else that can turn our heads. And I’m sure more than one mate is a possibility, but it’s after one has been lost through whatever means, not multiple at the same time.”

“You think so?” Harper asked hopefully.

“I know so.”

Harper sat down on one of the ottomans set strategically throughout the store. “Okay. I feel better.”

“Glad one of us does.”

Harper sat there, chewing on her nail, her mind elsewhere. “What do we do now?” she asked.

Summer looked around them, taking in all the clothes racks, and all the fashion choices. “We buy you clothes. That’s the whole reason we’re here. Go through the motions of a regular day every day, and it’ll move you to each tomorrow until you can talk to him again and get the answers you need.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

“Yeah, it is. And it’s a good thing, too. Because you have a trip you have to get through.”

Harper seemed to fold in on herself. “Fine,” she breathed out. “Dress me,” she said, holding her hands out to her sides.

“Consider it done,” Summer said.

~~~

Harper stepped off the plane and made her way up the concourse to the security gate only ticketed passengers were allowed beyond. The area just on the other side of the security check point was filled with people chattering and hugging and crying and laughing as they were reunited or saying goodbyes whichever the case may be.

Her phone vibrated and she took it out of her pocket and glanced at the message.

“Somebody will be picking you up. Love you, Dad.”

Harper looked over at all the people again. “How am I supposed to find somebody I don’t even know in the middle of all that?” she grumbled under her breath.

Then, almost as though the powers that be heard her, a man stepped from the cacophony of human beings to stand fully in her view. She watched curiously wondering if this man was the one she was meeting. Tall, dressed in a suit, but with his tie folded up in his jacket pocket — she could see the end of it flopping out of the top of his pocket. He had dark hair, and the tan he sported indicated he spent a lot of time outside. His tan was the real deal, not an orangey fake tan. His eyes were blue, his lashes long and black, cheekbones high and sharp, jawline square. His looks were disarming, as he held a manila folder with her name written across it in bold lettering that appeared to be made with a thick black marker. This man was no typical salesman. He was not that much older than she was, and was obviously athletic having kept himself in good shape. But that was no surprise — he seemed to be the type of man that believed that he would be doing the world a grave disservice if he let his body go to pot while his face screamed ‘you can’t even look away, can you?’. He knew he was pretty. And that thought was the one that brushed away her curiosity of him, reminding her that he was not at all attractive to her. Looking at him was like looking at a beautiful piece of art. She could appreciate the lines, but not have the slightest interest in having it for herself. Shoving her assessments aside, she reminded herself to be polite and lifted her hand, still clasping her jacket in it, while balancing her purse on one shoulder and her carry-on on the other, and did her best to wave.

His sharp focus picked it up immediately and the slow, easy smile that curved his lips might have made another female quiver, but it just irritated her, and caused her Tiger to give a little shiver of disgust. But she caught herself and managed not to give any outward indication of either emotion, and intentionally grounded herself in the here and now — at a trade show she didn’t want to be at, with a man she didn’t know, while the male she wished she was with hadn’t even bothered to send her a simple text as of yet. “Do your job and go home,” she coached herself. “Just do it and get out of here as soon as you can,” she whispered as she shook her head and waited for the throngs of travelers to move away from the security point so she could join the man who was still watching her from his side of the checkpoint. By the time she’d reached the front of the line, he’d worked his way around several people and was waiting for her with a confident smile.

“Harper Vitrano?” he asked, already knowing exactly who she was.

“That’d be me. And you are?” she asked.