Page 66 of Three Steps Behind

He leaned in and ever-so-slowly pressed a lingering kiss to her lips.

It was warm, soft yet firm, and everything she would have expected a kiss from Deckard to be.

His lips pressed deeper, and she let herself go, kissing him back.

His hand splayed through her hair, her emotions a joggled mess. But she wasn’t breaking this kiss for the life of her.

Nick cleared his throat.

Twenty-Six

HARPER INCHED BACK, studying Deck’s stunned expression. She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nick said, George beside him. “But we were wondering where you two got to.”

She tilted her head. “We?” George barely knew her, let alone Deck. Why would he be curious or concerned?

“George and I.” Nick pointed between himself and his friend. “George mentioned you were on the patio, so I came out to see you, and you were nowhere to be found.”

She rubbed her arms. “We came down here to see the water.”

“Uh-huh.” He chuckled.

This was not a chuckling day, unless it was out of fond memories and fun stories about Taylor, especially ones about her exploits. They were legendary with the family, and Harper’s heart ached they’d never have another adventure together again. At least not this side of heaven.

“Did you need me?” she asked, her hand in Deck’s. His fingers intertwined with hers.

“I thought it would be nice if a few people spoke for Taylor. You being her BFF, I assumed you’d like to say a word.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t prepared for that. But . . . “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

“Great. Let’s head on up.”

She nodded with a smile and cast Deckard a sideways glance that said That was a close one. Not that she knew exactly what she had with the cremation coin. Only one thing made sense, but it was an absolutely horrid thought: Nick had dumped Taylor’s ashes, for whatever reason, into the fire pit—cremation coin and all.

Entering the house, Nick once again offered to take her coat.

“I’m good, thanks.” She tugged it tighter around her. “Still got a chill.”

Nick held up his hands. “Of course. If you want to, go ahead and stand by the mantel, by Tay’s urn, and recollect a good memory you have of being together. Sort of like a bridesmaid wedding toast—like you did for us. Just a different focus.”

Yes. A funeral was a far different entity than a wedding, for goodness’ sake.

She swallowed. “Will do.”

After picking up a fresh mug of cider, she moved to stand by the urn, curiosity flooding her brain and body. If she could just take a look inside—see if Taylor’s ashes, maybe even cremation coin, were still in there. Perhaps if she were clumsy. Not enough to spill it. Just to take a glance.

She shifted her gaze to everyone packed in the living room and those crowding along the walls surrounding it, all waiting for her to speak. Yikes. Too many people.

She placed the mug on the mantel, and Deck nodded reassuringly.

She took one breath—or rather tried to gulp one in, like she did while swimming, though she’d never quite gotten her breathing right when it came to water. Always gulping furiously mid-freestyle.

She took another deep breath. She could do this—for Taylor.

“Where do I begin . . . ? Despite going to the same college for undergrad, Taylor and I actually met in a department store. She was registering for her coworker Naomi’s wedding. Apparently, Naomi didn’t have time for such tasks. Taylor was laughing, and it was contagious. I went about my business, wondering what was so amusing when all of a sudden, we both reached for the golden frog. For me, it was a gag gift for a white elephant exchange at work. For Taylor, she was registering every ridiculous gift she could find. We started chatting and ended up having coffee—and the rest is history.”

“What happened to the frog?” Susan asked.