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“You’re right.” She sighed, dropping onto the bench in front of the footboard. “I hate this.”
I hated more that I’d made her feel this way—uncomfortable and kind of angry with me. We’d always ribbed each other, pressed each other’s buttons, but this was a newfound friction. Then again, we’d only seen each other once since I’d left.
And that probably compounded all of this.
“New rule.” I sat down on the bench as well but still gave her space. “I’ll keep anything personal to as much of a minimum as I can when we’re on camera.”
She glanced over at me, a bit more hopeful than she was thirty seconds ago.
“Thank you.”
She kept something tucked away, something that had a big impact on her. And it wasn’t my rejection. It was bigger than that. I just didn’t know what it was.
But then again, I knew all about secrets.
Keeping personal things off camera protected me too.
“You owe me a conversation.”
“We’ll have it, I promise. Just not tonight.”
I glanced over at her hands as her fingers nervously rubbed her freshly polished nails.
“You should probably get some sleep. The sun will be up before either of us like it.”
“You’re right.” She pushed to her feet, then paused. “I’m sorry for coming in here, guns blazing.”
“Part of your charm.” I shrugged, following suit.
“That’s not how I pictured this going.”
“How did you picture it going?”
“I don’t know.” She said each word carefully, like she’d considered saying something else, and changed her mind.
For a second, the air changed between us. The hum I’d felt outside the sleigh buzzed, my senses hyper aware of Harper’s flowery scent, the gentle slope of her neck where it met her shoulder.
“Good night, Harper.”
Her brows drew together briefly, then smoothed back out again.
“See you tomorrow, Flynn.”
I followed her to the door, then closed it immediately behind her. The last thing either of us needed was for someone to find her coming out of my room. No matter how the dice fell, it looked bad for me. Worse, because no one would seem to be surprised by it.
The media tormented me, twisting things into a narrative I’d long stopped trying to rewrite. Until now.
I could take the heat, but I’d protect Harper at all costs. I wanted to prove to her that I wasn’t that guy. That every girl I’d even considered dating fell short because they weren’t her.
The whole reason I’d come on the show was to save my reputation, but things had suddenly taken a turn. I’d play the game, I’d date whoever.
But I knew exactly who the winner would be, and she was going to make me work for it.
