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When she’s gone, Harper glances up at the ceiling. “I’ve had enough humiliation to last a lifetime.”
I shake my head, hating like hell that she was ever treated like that in the first place. “You never should have had to put up with that crap. Not for a second.”
“Brett’s going to be furious when he finds out I’m not going to let him come back.” She leans closer to me and adds, “He’s going to be dropped by his studio and he’s going to blame me.”
“He’ll get over it,” I say, trying to look casual even though I’m fuming at the thought of that jackass blaming anything on her. He’s the one who can’t keep it in his pants. She’s still working that bottom lip of hers and I can’t look away. “You’re lucky you’ve got good people on your side who will help you out.”
Nodding, she gives me an intense look, her eyes searching mine. “Are you one of them?”
“I am,” I tell her, feeling that all too familiar urge to kiss her. “I’ll do anything I can to help you, Harper.”
She swallows hard and licks her lips. “Really?”
“Just tell me what you need,” I say, my voice growing thick with longing.
Etta James takes over the speakers and the most romantic song in the history of music starts to play—"At Last.”
“Dance with me?” Harper says, getting up.
“Really?” It’s like Christmas and my birthday, times ten.
Nodding, she holds out her hand. “Dancing seems like the right thing to do when you’re starting over in life.”
I stand and take her hand in mine, then lead her to the tiny, empty dance floor, knowing everyone in here is pretending they’re not watching our every move.
Pulling her close, I wrap my left arm around her, then place my hand on the small of her back. We move slowly together, our bodies pressed against each other. A warmth grows between us as we sway to the music. Having her in my arms feels more right than anything I’ve ever experienced. Her cheek rests against mine and I can smell the scent of her skin and her shampoo. She’s like a spring morning right after the rain. She’s freshly baked bread. She’s every good thing I’ve ever wanted.
“Harper, I don’t know about this …” I whisper, knowing that she has to be feeling the same things I am.
“Let’s pretend we know it’s going to have a happy ending for both of us.”
I close my eyes, wishing harder than I ever have before that will be the case. Steering her toward the wall, I lean down until our mouths are inches apart. “I think I might just like a happy ending this time,” I tell her.
Our mouths find each other. I brush my lips against hers, like I did that night by the fire. But tonight, I don’t stop myself. I don’t tell her we shouldn’t. I just let it happen. I kiss her with urgency, forgetting where I am or who she is or how this will end. I kiss her like my life depends on it. I kiss her like she’s my future. I kiss her like she ought to be kissed.
Harper presses herself closer to me, welcoming everything I have to give. After a few more delicious seconds, she pulls back and whispers, “I want you, Digger. I need you.”
Her words almost do me in. I’m so caught up, I’d agree to damn near anything right now. “I’m here,” is all I manage to say.
She presses her lips to mine and the entire world disappears again, only to reappear at the sound of Brett’s voice from across the bar.
“Get your hands off my wife!”
Chapter31
Harper
Dear Readers,
I was raised on a strange combination of musical tastes. My mom was a fan of folk music a la Peter, Paul, and Mary; angsty chick singers like Alanis Morissette; and good old-fashioned disco. My daddy was a rock man. Give him some Mellencamp, Bon Jovi, and Aerosmith, and he was set.
Where am I going with this? I’ll tell you. Every life needs a soundtrack. Every journey needs a theme song.
I’ve taken on the task of putting together the playlist for the Harper/ Brett Netflix movie that is surely already in the works. It’s only a partial, but I’m going to my bi-weekly hypnotherapy session later today where my spirit guide will help me flesh it out.
“Jack and Diane”—sweet blush of first love
“Walk this Way”—courting like a boss
