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Harper was my stage name, the name that everyone knew me by, but it wasn’t the name I was given at birth. I didn’t have many friends, and the few people who knew me called me Harper because they’d only come to know me after I’d made a name for myself. Except for the few people like my agent and the studio executives who called me whatever they wanted whenever they wanted.
His eyes softened. “What do you want me to call you?” he asked. His words were calm, soft, and his tone seemed genuine, like he cared about me.
Didn’t he recognize me as Harper Madison?
Maybe he didn’t watch chick flicks. Perhaps he’d never seen me before this morning in the coffee shop.
“Harper is fine.” I couldn’t hide who I was, even if I wanted to try.
A part of me wanted to hide, escape, and let no one know about my past.
Filming in a small town had its advantages, but living there, I wasn’t sure I was cut out for it.
I was pretty sure I wasn’t ready to settle down in a town with less than a thousand people. The studio where we filmed in Los Angeles had more people working on a set than the town of Breckenridge.
“You’re Lincoln, right?” I asked.
His lips quirked upwards with a faint smile. “Yes, I am.” He sipped his beer.
“Can we do this again, start over?” I asked and held out my hand to introduce myself. “I’m Harper.”
“Lincoln,” he said and shook my hand with a laugh. He tilted his head slightly to the side, staring at me. “You never did answer why you’re in town.”
“Oh, right.” I laughed under my breath. I guess I wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “I’m here filming something small for the studio.”
It was a little white lie.
While I was here to film a movie for the studio, it wasn’t small or insignificant. The budget alone was probably more than the town’s worth.
Lincoln finished his beer and gestured the bartender over for a second.
Against my better judgment, I ordered a second screwdriver.
The drinks were strong, but I didn’t want the night to end. It was still early, and the handsome stranger, Lincoln, I’d won his full undivided attention, and it wasn’t because of my celebrity status.
“I’ll have another one too,” I said.
Lincoln pulled out his credit card. “They’re on me,” he said to the bartender, handing over his credit card. “Start a tab.”
“Are you here filming a commercial or something?” Lincoln asked. His fingers drummed against the bar counter as he sat facing me.
Our knees brushed against each other, and my body tingled at the thought of what he looked like undressed. “Something like that,” I said.
Lincoln was albeit handsome but not my usual type. He was strong, muscular, and looked quite a bit like a lumberjack with his thick beard and outdoorsy attire.
I’d never met a lumberjack before.
The bartender brought us both our drinks and placed them on the counter.
Leaning in, I reached for my drink at the same time Lincoln did, breathing in his masculine scent.
I momentarily closed my eyes as the bar felt several degrees warmer.
Was my face flushed?
Could he sense my attraction? I barely knew him.
What had gotten into me?
