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Harris felt his jaw go slack at his brother’s words, and his mind teemed with confusing thoughts as he tried to process everything Grey had just said.
“I-I . . . don’t . . .”
“Harris,” Grey interrupted his stammering gently. “You were both victims back then. What was done to you was fucking reprehensible, and if I had that asshole Spade in my sights right now, I’d probably beat him to a pulp. But have you ever considered what would have happened that night if you hadn’t been doped? If they hadn’t interfered, and if there had been no bet?”
Harris swallowed painfully as he considered his brother’s words. And, for the first time since it happened, found himself wondering how that night would have ended for him and Tina if not for Jonah Spade.
He disconnected the call, his mind teeming with images of that night. Some so clear it was as if it had happened just yesterday. Others lost forever in a haze of confusion, fear, and regret.
When he had first seen her that night, he had been unable to take his eyes off her. She had been so vibrantly beautiful in her sparkly red dress. He had made a conscious decision to dance with her—he remembered defiantly thinking that he didn’t care what the hell Smith or anyone else had to say about that. He liked her, and he wanted to dance with her.
All of that was so clear to him. He had approached her with his heart on his sleeve, and he had felt like he could conquer the world when she agreed to that dance.
And then someone had offered him a birthday drink.
Jonah. He hadn’t “offered” so much as thrust it into his hands as Harris was walking Tina to the patio. And Harris had downed it. Wanting to get the guy out of his face and away from Tina as quickly as possible.
Harris buried his face in his hands as the memories of that night continued to bombard him. How right she had felt in his arms, how perfectly her lips had slotted against his . . . all those powerful emotions. The need, the desire, the affection . . . the absolute certainty that he wanted her. That he would have her, and everybody else be damned.
He had been thinking about more than that night. He’d been thinking of a future with her. How they would deal with the distance once he went back to college in the States.
And all that potential had been lost forever because of the awful events that had followed.
“Morning, MJ,” the librarian, Mrs. Salie, called as Tina walked down the road toward MJ’s. She smiled and waved at the woman.
“Morning, Mrs. Salie. Don’t forget to collect those doughnuts for the Books Are Fun story-time session this afternoon,” Tina called back, and Mrs. Salie sent her a thumbs-up in acknowledgment.
Tina happily made her way to work, feeling energetic after her regular yoga session with Lia and excited about the new dessert they’d be debuting on their dinner menu tonight. Life was almost perfect . . .
Almost.
It had been a month since she’d put her flat on the market, and Harris hadn’t returned a single one of her texts or messages since she’d returned home. And it hurt. More than it probably should have. But she missed him. So much.
Every novel experience, every new friendship, every victory or achievement at the restaurant . . . her first instinct—without fail—was to tell Harris. She was looking into purchasing an adorable house farther up the hill, but she was reluctant to make the commitment because she wanted Harris’s opinion on it first. It was ridiculous and illogical, but she couldn’t seem to make that final decision without talking to him.
And so many things reminded her of him. She couldn’t enjoy her porch anymore without missing him, and even a simple cup of coffee had the ability to bring him immediately to mind. Specifically, his excitement and appreciation when she had offered him a mug of her brew.
And then there was Greyson. Who, ever since he’d kept an eye on the restaurant for Tina, had returned to his former surly asshole self. But that didn’t stop Tina from jumping a little every time she saw him. For the first time in their history together, she looked at Greyson and thought of Harris. The two had always seemed so different, but now the physical likeness between them was almost too much for Tina to bear. It was hard to look at him—so like Harris and yet so completely different.
“Morning.” She murmured a muffled greeting to the staff as she stepped into the restaurant, not wanting to disturb Ricardo’s meeting. She loved the comforting routine of running the restaurant. She knew exactly what needed to be done, and when. The previously daunting task had become a lifesaver; it kept her mind occupied and stopped her from thinking too hard about why she missed Harris so much.
