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Seth once again cupped her face, obviously not a big fan of allowing space in any form. “Harper, until we know what the imposter’s ultimate goal is or if this morning was the fucker’s only play, no possible scenario is discounted. One fact for sure is an unknown enemy took a picture of your café and made a post attacking you.”
“You don’t have to remind me, Seth,” she snapped, making a move to step back, but was again halted as he firmed his grip.
“Sweetness, you don’t get it.” Seth swept his thumb over her cheek before dropping his hand. She barely managed to hold back a whimper at the loss of his touch. “The minute he targeted you, that brought you my protection.”
Harper felt her mouth drop. He couldn’t be serious. Yet his clear, piercing gaze shone with determination.
“Oh, wow.” Jinx whispered from behind.
No kidding. Thankfully, Harper kept those words to herself and, instead, concentrated on their implications. She shook her head. “Seth, what does that even mean? And anyway, you should concentrate on finding out who is responsible and kicking his ass.”
“I’ll be doing that at the same time you’ll be under my protection. And by my protection I mean you by my side, having dinner with me.” He moved his hand to the back of her neck again and squeezed, as if reinforcing his next words. “And however else we decide to spend our time.”
Her face heated, enough that Seth’s mouth curved up. “What if I say no? In fact,” she pushed back her shoulders. “I hereby absolve you of any responsibility of protecting me. Just do”—she waved her hand in the air—“whatever it is you have to do to fix things with my dad and for Heath.”
Heath made a choking sound and looked down at his boots.
Seth laughed outright as he released his grip. “Harper, it’s a done deal. I’ve made myself responsible for your safety while this mess plays out.”
Her mouth dropped open. “But, you can’t!” Okay, that sounded desperate even to her ears.
Seth’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, luv, I can.”
Jinx put a hand on her hip, firing attitude like bullets shot from a machine gun. “Hey, buddy, you may have that whole Aussie accent thing going on, which I’ll admit is pretty hot, but it’s Harper’s choice whether she spends time with you.”
“Appreciate where you’re coming from—” Seth paused and lifted his brow in question.
“Jinx Malone, Harper’s BFF.” The blonde stylist used the internationally recognized acronym that signified lifelong commitment through boyfriends, marriages, hairstyle disasters and fashion faux pas.
“Right.” Seth nodded. “Jinx, this isn’t about me being an obnoxious dickhead.”
Jinx sighed. “I get you think that, but—”
“Little bro’s making a statement. Keeping her safe.” Both Harper and Jinx turned to stare at biker dude, whose arms remained crossed over his chest, giving another view of the tats on one forearm. “It’s what a man does when someone attacks what’s his.”
Harper flung her arms out at her sides. “I’m not his.”
Biker dude’s gaze focused tight on her. “The bastard who did this thinks different.”
“Zach, let’s not scare the shit out of her just yet.” Heath moved next to the biker, or what passed for a biker in Harper’s mind, which she’d admit, was based on limited—as in zero—experience with bikers. And he was Zach. The second of the Aussie brothers. “Harper, save yourself some angst. Seth’s a stubborn bastard, it’s a shared trait between us all.”
Great.
She faced Seth. “Fine. Knock yourself out. But whatever protection you’re planning will be from a distance. I’m going to ignore you. There’ll be no dates, no dinners or anything else.” She leaned forward, bringing her face inches from Seth. “Especially no chocolate cake.”
“That’s okay, luv. We can have as much fun with a muffin.” Seth winked.
Seriously!
She clenched her hands into fists and growled.
“She’s done, brother. Let her run.” A hard, gravel-rough voice, again with an Aussie accent, said from behind. “You have bigger shit needing your attention.”
Harper’s first instinct was to glance at Seth. At his stiff posture and hardening jaw, she turned toward the doorway to see a new man had joined in the fray.
If the other guys were big, then this dude was a giant.
The stranger stood at least six foot five, maybe taller and possessed a rough-hewn face that looked carved from some ancient rock. With short cropped hair matching his dark brown Henley, his wide shoulders blocked out the light filled area behind him. Black cargo pants were tucked into combat boots, giving him an air of danger that suited a mercenary.
