Chapter 19
NINETEEN
A NIGHT FOR THE BOOKS. With Roxie, Keely, and the attentive man currently driving her home.
Oh, but she wasn’t ready. He’d been utterly focused on her all night without crowding her.
With his dad and Zairn part of their group, the men did their own talking while she got to know Keely and Carolyn better.
Despite only meeting Roxie once before that night, it already felt they’d been friends for years.
Something about Roxie just put her, and everyone else, at ease.
The woman was a magnet for people and could talk to anyone.
Literally anyone. Except Ricardo Whey. He got the stink eye with a slight side-smirk, the two must have history.
Every once in a while, Bastian would sweep her away to hold her tight on the dance floor. It gave them time to talk alone, without lies. Those moments reinforced their duplicity. What a view they must’ve made to those who believed their mistruths.
At the end of the night, as the Hunt parents and Keely said goodnight and left the hall, Harper gathered her clutch, ready to tell Bastian she was going too. Before a word left her lips, he wrapped her in his jacket and draped a possessive arm over her shoulder to lead her outside.
A valet brought his car around. He helped her inside and moments later they were on a long, dark road.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked.
The smile on her face probably said it all. Though tired, the night still stirred her blood.
“Yeah,” she said. “Better than I thought I would.”
“You were worried about coming out with me?”
He’d been the simplest part of the whole night.
“No,” she said, slipping her feet from her shoes. “But when we drove up to that house… everyone looked so… refined.”
“You look amazing,” he said. “That dress plays peek-a-boo with your leg. Drives me crazy.”
Without their audience, he didn’t have to be sweet with her. The habit would wear off.
“Not while you’re driving,” she said. “Speaking of which, you can drop me anywhere and I’ll get a cab to—”
“Why would you get a cab?”
“You can’t drive all the way to my parents’, and it would be a heck of a long walk. It’s forever away.”
For a second, neither of them said anything. The silence was his acquiesce… wasn’t it? Except their route didn’t change.
“You told Damon and Charissa we had a date tonight.”
And if she’d needed a slap to get back to reality, talking about Damon was it. Did Bastian really need to go there?
“Yeah,” she grumbled.
“Everyone thinks we’ve been seeing each other for four months.”
“Or thereabouts.”
“Hypothetically…” he said. “If you’ve been seeing a guy for four months, you’ve met his family, and he’s met yours.
You’ve just been on a date, drinking, dancing.
You’ve teased him with that dress all night, got him thinking about what’s underneath…
It’s the end of the date, he’s got you in his car… what would happen next?”
Hmm… The usual goodnight kiss on the doorstep phase would be over by four months.
“You think we’d be having sex,” she said, but couldn’t subscribe to the assumption. “We would be over the ‘screwing like bunnies’ phase.”
“By four months?” he asked, taking his eyes from the road. “Are you sure about that?”
Yes, she was damn sure about it. That phase never lasted long. She and Bastian were too invested in business to be distracted by anything like sex for too long.
“We only see each other once a week,” she said. “And last week I was injured so I doubt that would’ve included anything adventurous…” Truth was, she was pragmatic about sex. “It’s what I said the night we met, people settle for respect, cohabitation. A partner.”
Bastian didn’t agree. “Indifference,” he said. “Like you had with Damon, you think our relationship would be like that?”
She twisted the wrist strap of her clutch around.
They were trapped in a confined space again.
Just like the night he’d brought her back from the hospital, claustrophobia closed in.
Their choice of conversation wasn’t helping alleviate the growing humidity.
Was it all in her head? Maybe she was sick.
In this car and nowhere else? Other than in Bastian’s arms on the dance floor. Any time she was up close it got hotter and a little squirmy.
“Not to be rude but… I don’t see how it could be any different.”
“I’d be faithful for one thing,” he said.
Shit, she hadn’t meant to offend him. Being compared to Damon could sour anyone’s mood. Though, in fairness, she hadn’t been the one to bring up her ex. It wasn’t like she was making a direct comparison anyway, that should be obvious given the difference between the two men.
“Of course,” she said. “What I meant was the feeling, the emotion involved, the general day-to-day goings on of any relationship will be similar.”
“After four months with Damon you’d stopped having sex?”
Embarrassment chilled her. What was it with this guy that she kept walking into these conversational cul-de-sacs?
“This is mortifying,” she whispered to herself.
“I want to know,” Bastian said. “Are you telling me that after four months of access this guy could keep his hands off you?”
Seemed the conversation was happening no matter what, with or without her. Bastian was perfectly at ease. Good for him. What kind of gentleman asked questions like this of a woman with a few glasses of champagne—and maybe three or four cocktails—in her.
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She scoffed. “It’s true,” she said, happy to be offended if that was where he wanted to drive her. “I have no reason to lie.”
“What was wrong with him?”
What was that supposed to mean?
“Nothing,” she said. “There was nothing wrong with him.”
“There had to be if he was passing up a night in bed with you.”
Okay, uh… another surprise. Being kind when there was no one around was one thing, but deconstructing her relationship with Damon wouldn’t achieve anything.
Then again, Damon hadn’t made the best first impression on Bastian.
She guessed that fostered negative feelings.
Damon upset Adara the same night the two men met.
As a brother himself, Bastian could probably identify with how it felt to have someone insult a sibling.
“You don’t have to do that, you know. It’s sweet of you to say—”
“It’s not sweet at all. You wanted honesty? This is it,” Bastian said. “That guy could have you any day, any time he wanted, and he didn’t take full advantage? There has to be something wrong with him.”
His vehemence wasn’t meant to be vicious, she sensed it came from a place of certainty, which only compounded her own humiliation.
“There isn’t,” she said.
“There is, there has to be—”
“It’s me!”
Neither said a word for a few seconds.
“Right,” he said, seeming to figure it out. “You kicked him out of bed. That I get.”
“No.” She sighed. “You heard his joke about the Contrast Sisters. It’s a known fact that I’m no good… in bed… And now that I’ve confessed that horrifying truth to you, drive me into the ocean.”
“You’re no good in bed.”
Gawping, she probably squawked, but shock deafened her.
“You didn’t have to repeat it!” she said. “What kind of gentleman are you? Now when I fall asleep tonight I’ll hear you saying that sentence in my head over and over again.”
“You are good in bed.”
Her thoughts spun out with the speed of that turnaround. She didn’t get it. While she slowly died inside, Bastian just sat there like they were talking about the weather.
Exasperated, she swallowed air for a minute before sputtering, “How could you possibly know that?” Suspicion crept in. “Is this a guy thing where you try to goad me into proving you’re wrong thus you get sex of some variety while I get to be correct?”
His dimple was quick to distract her. “I’m not goading you into anything, Sweet. I’m giving you my opinion.”
He hadn’t sold her. “I appreciate the ignorant compliment, as well intentioned as it may be, but you can’t know that.”
“Sure I do.”
Never short of confidence, Bastian’s certainty bordered on cocky.
She didn’t get it. Just what was in those cocktails?
“Did we have sex and somehow I missed it?”
“No,” he said on a laugh. “But I have shared a bed with you and I have no complaints.”
Rather than laugh, she went for dry sarcasm instead. “Yes,” she said. “I do my best work while unconscious.”
He wasn’t deterred. “Sweet, there are three things I know about you for sure. All of them contradict whatever that inadequate, unthinking idiot might have said to you.”
This should be interesting.
She folded her arms. “Three?”
“You’re beautiful,” Bastian said. “You have a killer body that screams sin even when you’re trying to cover it up.
You’re engaging and interesting. Your instinct is sharp.
You’re entertaining, funny, and curious.
You have a wonderful mind brimming with thoughts and questions enough to enrapture any man.
You’re caring. Have a voice that diverts male blood south and would even if you were reciting the Constitution.
And when you laugh I want to taste every morsel of that delectable mouth and beg for more.
You’re responsive, keen, so aware of what’s going on but focused on your priority.
A man doesn’t have to guess when he’s with you.
Every squeak and whimper lets a guy know exactly what’s right, and what’s wrong.
You’re better than every dessert on the cart; you’re prime rib rare enough to make a guy’s mouth water.
With you, Harper Scott, there’s no such thing as no room for more. ”
And that was…
Her mouth wouldn’t close but her—she—they…
“That was more than three things.”
Flattered and overwhelmed, she had no idea how to…
All she could do was accept her certainty was his.
She’d never been so grateful for, or to, another person.
Showing him that wouldn’t be easy. She slid her hand over his on the gear stick.
When he opened his fingers to accept hers between them, she begged him to understand.
“Stay the night,” he said.
“Okay.”
There was no way she had the power to say no. Whether what he’d said was true or not didn’t matter. He gave her what she needed. Every time, somehow, he managed it.
He picked her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “I promise I’ll leave you alone this time.”
Did she want to be left alone?
Their connected hands muddied the conviction that this wasn’t real. They weren’t together. She wasn’t even sure they were friends. They were acquaintances, associates… partners in crime, offering each other a mutual alibi. That was it. Nothing more. Nothing.