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Girlish giggles bounce her shoulders as she makes her way to the driver side, keys in hand. “Is that a yes?”
“I’m gonna swing by the bar and have a pint first. Thanks to shagging you that’s all I need now.”
Red tints her cheeks prior to a sweet scolding. “Promise me you won’t drink any more than two and drive.”
“Geallaim.”
“And now in Spanish.”
“Te lo promento.”
“And in good ol’ English to round it all off.”
“I promise, beautiful.”
Harper lets out a happy sigh and slides into the front seat. “I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”
“I love you.”
I step away from her SUV to give her the clearance she needs to leave yet continue to linger in the space until she’s completely out of sight.
See, that’s the thing about being in love with Harper.
I really don’t need shite else for a buzz.
Getting drunk off her is more than bloody enough.
And the best part is that it’s one glass I know will never go empty.
Chapter 9
Harper
I give the red, boho style dress with a high slit another nervous fidget.
Am I too old for this dress?
Can a person be too old for a dress?
Do I look young and fun and hip?
Cripes…did I really just say hip?
I meant…trendy.
Trendable?
Fuckable?
Fuckable works.
That one is timeless.
Tate rounds the corner, leaving the walk-in closet area, to catch me battling with the flowy fabric near the low-cut front that’s showing off the sides of my tits in a way I am hoping keeps his attention on me rather than the numerous just got tits this decade females we’ll be seeing around the venue. Like he does often – so often I sometimes can’t believe it – he stops dead in his tracks, leans his shoulder against the nearest wall, and admires the view of my backside.
Oh…he so is a hound dog.
Thankfully, however, it is me he’s “crying” over all the time.
