CHAPTER 29
Aiden
Where is she? I should have seen her by now.
Of course this woman—Ellie? Anna?— keeps trying to engage me in conversation, so it’s possible Harper slipped past when I was saying, “Hm? Sorry? What was that?” Over and bloody over again.
Because of course I can’t concentrate.
All I’ve thought about all day is Harper’s sweet face as she said happy birthday this morning. Her soft, small body pulled tight against mine. The little gasping sound she made when I grabbed her. I would like to produce that sound again…many sounds. Many times.
Shit.
I’m getting in too deep with this woman. I’ve never sat around distracted by a bird all day long. Not even Marion.
So, maybe I should try to listen to…Elizabeth? Yes. Someone interested in me. Someone attracted to me, clearly up for whatever I might propose. At least that’s true if her quick laughter is any indication.
I’m not that funny of a bloke.
And she does have some interesting perspectives on real estate as a small town realtor. We swap horror stories—one of her listings was the site of a murder, for heaven’s sake—and she asks smart questions.
I try, I do.
But my eyes scan for a beachy bandanna, any one of them, since I’ve got them memorized. I listen for a soft voice in the murmur of the crowd. I scan around Steven and Tyrone, searching for the black bakery shirt I’d be able to pick out in a stadium full of black shirts.
The movie starts and, finally, this probably totally lovely woman finally stops talking to me. I excuse myself from where we ended up sitting together. I walk to the back of the field.
My chest stirs with pride. It’s packed. Again. I look behind me, so many cars. People sitting on hoods. Cars and faces I don’t recognize. I know Harper had a whole team calling around past the usual neighbor towns, even to the outskirts of Manhattan.
Well done, Sweetheart.
…Now, where the hell are you?
I scan the groups of people. She’s not with Steven and Miles.
Not with Shelly and Betty and, well, look at that, her dad’s out of the house tonight.
Brilliant. I walk further to the side of the area and search the cars.
No Bronco. Her dad’s car is absent as well.
If she’s here on that damned bicycle, so help me…
I see a flutter in and around the barn. I suppose I can try again.
I checked there earlier when I bought an espresso and a chocolate chip popcorn ball but she wasn’t with Madison and DJ.
I trudge round the side so as to not block the movie goers.
Takes longer being considerate, so I quicken my pace.
I reach the barn and I think I hear her laugh?
She has to be in here, she must be.
I spot the old gift shop owner first, chatting with a woman in a flowy dress, “Maxine have you seen—”
I…
She…
Good
God
Almighty
In
Heaven.
Who clearly exists and is trying to kill me.
She’s glowing in the light of the sunset through the barn door. She’s smiling at something Maxine’s just said and her hair is down and so long and is that a flower tucked behind her ear…wow…I…that dress…her hair…I…
She looks bloody phenomenal, obviously.
But also more. She’s more like herself somehow. Like this is Harper. Not the baker, the daughter, the town cheerleader on a bicycle but this.
“H-harper?” I stutter for maybe the first time in my adult life.
But at the sight of me, her open, happy, laughing-with-Max face shutters completely closed. Her eyebrows scrunch adorably and…what’s she done with her eyes? Wow, again.
Gorgeous, yes, but her expression is not just reserved or shy. She’s angry. I blink, trying to find a coherent train of thought other than looking at her hair and the way her dress is leaving very little to my imagination and—
Stop it, man! Why is she cross with you?
“Harper?” I say again, my voice scratchy.
Yes, you twat, that’s her name. Move on!
She turns away. Which gives me an amazing view of her—
Aiden Christopher Vanderwell. Get it together!
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
She shakes her head with a small smile that tries to lie to me, Nothing.
I clear my throat, and straighten myself up, taking over the situation, “Walk with me?…Please?” She wordlessly says I guess and steps out reluctantly from between her table and Maxine’s. “It’s bumper to bumper out there, very well done,” I try.
“Mhm,” she barely answers.
We leave the barn and start on a path leading through the fields. There’s a pond in view, and a few abandoned old vehicles and farm tools. Not that I’m looking at any of that.
She’s breathtaking.
“You look…” I try to find the words. Angelic? Otherworldly? Unbearable to look away from? “Like yourself.” She frowns. Wanker! You’re better than this! “I mean, you look absolutely gorgeous, obviously.”
She blushes and I feel a thrill of victory. She’s such an open book right now, red spreading from her cheeks to her ears and probably down her chest. I will myself not to look down to check.
“Thanks,” she whispers. We walk for a few paces in almost silence, with the murmur of the projected movie behind us. I have an idea, a card I have for just a few hours, and decide to use it. I say, “I’ve a birthday request.”
That gets her. She looks up at me and I have to cough when the air gets caught in my throat. There’s some green in her dress and it’s making her eyes almost glow in the waning light. I look away so I can focus.
“Let’s play twenty questions,” I propose. She snorts, an adorable sound that is Harper for absolutely not. “Okay, ten then. First, why are you angry with me?”
She huffs, kicking at the gravel beneath our feet, “I’m not.”
“You did hear yourself just then, yeah? That was the most unconvincing argument I’ve ever heard and I’m well-versed. Try again.”
She relaxes and looks up at me, “I’m really not. Next question.”
Hmmm. I decide to move on. For now.
“Okay, next question then. Is it dyslexia?”
Her eyes go wide.
“Sorry, you may have noticed, I’m very direct.”
I’m happy to hear her chuckle slightly. She says, “I don’t know. I didn’t know that you knew.”
“I barely notice, but I wondered if the bullying you mentioned…if that’s why you are so shy.”
She nods, “I don’t know if it’s a diagnosable thing.
My brain just moves quickly and my mouth doesn’t keep up, so the wrong words come out.
” I wait, studying her. “My gran was the bully. She lived with us. She was awful to my mother who was awful to me. They wanted everything to always look perfect, be perfect, so they hated it, how I’d mix up words, say the wrong phrases.
I’d get screamed at, slapped…I just gave up. Just stopped talking.”
“Period?” I can’t hide my shock.
“Yip…ugh,” she exhales.
“See, I’m a very intelligent bloke and I knew you meant yup.” I pop the p to try and get a smile out of her. I do. Aha! Brilliant.
“Yup,” she says. “I was so scarred from when I was little, I stayed mute for a few years.”
“And now you have to talk to customers all day,” I say in dismay.
She lifts a shoulder, “It’s been good for me. Always was. Dad had me working in the shop with him since I was little, definitely not legal.”
“So, do you enjoy the baking?”
She cocks her head for a second then answers, “Yes, I do.”
“And you enjoy running the shop?”
She sighs, “Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?”
“No, my birthday, my rules. Do you like the shop?” She shakes her head. “Care to elaborate? For my birthday.”
I get a cute little eye roll for that, then she speaks up at the pink-purple sky on an exhale, “It’s just too much. All day, every day, inventory, employees, socials, reviews...” She trails off.
“But you love this town then?”
“What number was that?” She smirks over at me. I don’t answer. She finally says, “It’s home.”
I stop walking and after a couple paces she stops as well. I step up into her space and get to my point. “Why, swee—Harper. Why do you stay?”
Her feet start to move as she talks, clearly having this answer locked away and ready to go. “Because someone has to! Dad’s here, his shop is here, and every one else left! What else am I supposed to do?”
“You could—”
She reaches the hood of an old pick up truck and turns, holding up a hand, “No, I’m choosing to be positive about where God has me.
To be grateful and put down roots. Bloom where I’m potted rather than wishing for a different pot.
Everyone doesn’t get their dream life, so you have to make the life you’ve got into a dream. ”
I stare at her when she stops at the end of her rant and looks back. The breeze blows her fiery hair around. Her huge green eyes are glistening. Hell, she’s so damn beautiful I think my eyes might be watering. But I can’t look away.
Her brow scrunches again, “You think I’m stupid.”
“I think you’re incredible,” I stalk up to meet her. “Absolutely brilliant and lovely and too bloody wonderful to be stuck somewhere you don’t want to be,” I say quickly, meaning it. She makes another gasp sound and I look at her sweet mouth.
Be her friend. HER FRIEND.
She looks away and says softly, “I…I think you’re incredible too.”
I stare down at her and because I can’t help myself I lift an eyebrow, “An incredible friend?”
“Yes,” she says but her voice is faint and she can’t look away either, like we’re caught in a shared breath. Like twice before.
Friend Friend Friend…find that restraint…
“I’ve run out. Sorry,” I whisper.
She whispers back, “For what?”
“For this,” I say right before I take hold of her face and kiss the ever-living shit out of her.