Chapter 7
L uke sipped the coffee Harper had brewed while he was out for his run and looked out the back window. He woke up feeling unsettled. He blamed it on the fact that it was the first time he had taken a girl home to meet his parents since… Since.
It was just a month, he reminded himself. Then everything would go back to normal. If another deployment counted as normal.
After that moment with Harper under him in the flowers, it had been a sleepless night. Looking down at her, seeing the surprise, the wonder, in her eyes, it felt like a vision of things to come. Things that couldn’t be.
He thought about buying a blow-up mattress and sleeping in one of the spare rooms upstairs.
But he liked waking up to Harper plastered against him.
He liked knowing she was safe. And feeling those soft curves against him was bringing back to life feelings he thought were long dead.
He was playing with fire, but somewhere inside, he didn’t care.
He heard the creak of the back porch swing and spotted her, shoulders hunched, swinging in the silence of early dawn.
Luke let himself out onto the back porch. Harper heard his approach and straightened up, swiping a hand over her face.
“Morning,” he said, testing the waters.
“Morning.” She said it brightly, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Just getting an early start for my first day on the job.”
He didn’t say anything. He knew a crying woman when he saw one, which, growing up with Sophie, had been often.
She jumped up from the swing and tried to step around him. He blocked her and set his coffee down on the railing.
Harper stepped to the other side, and he easily met her. “Harper.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and when she still refused to look up, he nudged her chin with his fingers.
The tears in her gray eyes overflowed, coursing down her cheeks as soon as she met his gaze.
“Shit.” He pulled her in and rested his chin on her head.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled against his bare chest.
“Uh-huh.” He held her a little tighter.
“It’s nothing.”
At least that’s what he thought she said. Her voice was muffled. But she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Okay.”
He held her that way, rubbing gentle circles on her back until he felt her breath get deeper.
“You know, Harper, if you really don’t want to work for me, you don’t have to.”
The teasing helped. She leaned back looking up at him with a watery smile.
“It’s not the job. At least not yet. Who knows what kind of work environment you’ll provide? I was just having a moment, and now it’s over.”
“A moment?”
She nodded.
“And now it’s over? Just like that?”
Harper nodded again.
“Don’t you need to talk about something ... or something?”
“Nope.” She gave him another sad smile.
“As your fake boyfriend, I should probably know what you’re upset about.”
Harper laughed. “You’re very sweet, and I’m fine. How about some breakfast?” She made a move to step past him, but he stopped her and grasped her wrists. She was clutching a picture in her hand.
“What’s this?” He took the picture from her and studied it.
“My parents and me.”
A miniature cherub, she was wearing a flowered dress perched on a bench between a lean man whose smile was almost hidden behind his mustache and a stunning blonde in a blue dress. They were all laughing.
“You were a pretty cute kid. Where are they now?”
“They died a long time ago.” Harper took the photo from him.
“I’m sorry. How long ago?”
“Nineteen years.”
“Jesus, Harper. I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Car accident. Sometimes I still miss them a lot. Especially after spending time with other people’s families.”
“I’ve had lots of people cry after spending time with my family.”
She poked him. “Funny.”
“So who raised you?”
“A lot of different people. I was in foster care until I aged out.”
“Aged out?”
“Once you hit eighteen, if you haven’t been adopted, you’re officially on your own.”
“You don’t have any family?”
“I make my own family.” Harper said it brightly and meant it. “Now, how about I make breakfast? It’s a big day today.”
She laid a hand on his chest. “Thanks for being nice to me, Luke.” Harper went up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek and headed into the kitchen.
Luke slapped the cover of his tablet shut and tossed it on the seat next to him. He should be focusing on the task at hand. But instead of reviewing the timeline for the Riggs’ addition, he couldn’t stop thinking about Harper.
He had given her a cursory tour of the office and left her to set up a workspace. He had a list of office tasks he planned to give her the next day once she’d settled in. After their talk that morning, he wanted to ease her into the job without overwhelming her.
Harper had bounced back, chattering cheerfully about her plans for a quick lunch at Common Grounds while she whipped up omelets and toast. He had let her talk, interjecting appropriate responses, but his mind raced.
She had no one. Hadn’t had anyone since she was six years old, which explained a lot. No wonder she was a walking disaster. She never had a family to keep her out of trouble.
She must have been in the car with her parents. That had to have been when the broken arm and ribs happened. Did she remember it?
How many foster homes had she been through? Who did she spend Christmas with?
Luke dropped his head against the headrest. His own family could drive him crazy, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t grateful for them.
Maybe it was time he started acting like it again. He glanced at his watch. He had enough time before his afternoon meeting to make a few unscheduled stops.
Luke pushed open the screen door of his parents’ home. “Ma?”
“Back in the kitchen.” Her voice floated to him with the scent of fresh baked chocolate.
“I wasn’t sure if you worked today,” he called, following his nose down the hallway. Claire worked part-time for the florist in town and often got called in for extra shifts.
His mother turned from the oven, clutching a glass dish. “That damn Pinterest. I saw a recipe for mudslide brownies and couldn’t help myself. Oh!” She looked at the flowers he was holding. “What are those?”
He held out the lilies to her. “Trade?”
“You brought me flowers?” She put the brownies on the counter and grabbed the bouquet. “What’s the occasion?”
His mother’s shock and joy was enough to make him feel a little guilty for not thinking to do this sooner.
“No occasion. Just saw them and thought of you.”
Claire buried her face in them. “They’re beautiful, Luke!”
He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
“Do you want to stay for lunch?” Claire offered.
“Can’t.” Luke checked his watch. “I’m picking Dad up in fifteen for lunch, but I’ll take two brownies.”
“As long as one of them is for Harper.”
Luke smiled. “We’ll see if she hasn’t run screaming for the hills yet after getting a look at the last six months of unfiled paperwork.”
“In that case, I’m packing four brownies, and Harper gets to decide if you get any. She’s a lovely girl, Luke. I really like her.”
“I do, too.”
And he meant it.
Charlie Garrison was a broad-shouldered man who had worn his silver hair in the same style since the ’60s.
In homage to the brisk spring temperatures, he had traded his heavy Carhartt for a lighter flannel jacket.
He slid into the booth across from Luke and pushed the menu to the edge of the table.
He always ordered the same thing. They both did.
Luke accepted the unordered cup of coffee from the waitress and smiled as she slid a Coke into his dad’s hands. Claire had for her pre-diabetic husband a strict no-soda rule that was only broken at the diner.
“The usual, boys?” Sandra asked, not bothering to pull out her notepad.
“Yes, ma’am.” Charlie handed her the menus, and she winked as she walked away. A retired elementary school music teacher, Sandra owned the diner and worked the lunch shift four days a week.
Luke leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the booth. “I wonder what she’d do if we ever ordered something different.”
“Probably bring us the usual anyway.” He plucked the straw out of the glass and put it on the table before taking a deep drink. “So what’s the occasion?”
“For lunch?”
“It’s been a while.”
Luke nodded, toying with his mug. “Yeah.” It had been. What years ago had been a standing weekly tradition had slowly morphed into a sporadic occasion.
Sandra mercifully arrived with their food. A tuna melt and fries for Charlie and a bacon cheeseburger for Luke.
“Can I get you boys anything else?”
Charlie shook his head and reached for the ketchup. “No, ma’am.”
“Thanks, Sandra,” Luke said, hefting the burger.
“All right, try not to cause too much trouble,” she said before bustling off to the next booth.
Luke took a big bite of burger and watched his father dig in to his sandwich. “How’s the basement reno coming?” While technically retired, his father still liked to oversee a handful of projects every year. His neighbors, the Nicklebees, had hired them to finish their walkout basement.
Charlie took a swig of Coke and reached for a fry. “It’s coming along. The wiring’s finished, and the plumbing’s almost done.”
“I saw your note about them adding a wet bar,” Luke said between bites.
“Yeah, I gave a copy to Harper this morning so she could update the work order and the estimate.”
Luke nodded. He had wondered how long it would take his dad to bring up Harper.
“So what do you think?”
“A wet bar is always a good idea.”
“Very funny. I mean of Harper.” His father followed the old-school businessman’s creed of keeping your opinions under lock and key so as not to offend customers. But he was a fair man, and Luke valued his opinion.
Luke snatched a fry from Charlie’s plate.
“Nice kid.”
“Yes, she is. Don’t you think I moved her in awfully quick?”
“Son, you could have moved in Angry Frank, and I’d be happy. You have good timing. Your mom was getting ready to start calling cousins to set you up with.”
Luke felt himself go pale. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“They were mostly seconds and thirds,” Charlie quipped. He grinned, showing a dimple just like Luke’s.
“Christ.” Luke grabbed for his coffee and leaned back.
“A mother’s love is a blessing and a curse,” Charlie said philosophically. “She was just worried.”
Luke scrubbed a hand over his head. “I know, and I appreciate it. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“I’ll relay that to your mother. She likes Harper. Thinks she’s just what you need.”
“What? Barely controlled chaos?” Luke’s lips quirked.
“‘A breath of fresh air,’ I believe she said.”
“She’s more like a hurricane.”
“She’s definitely not Karen.”
Luke felt the familiar stab at the mention of her name. It had dulled over the years, but the wound was still there. It would never be gone. “No, she’s not.”
“That’s not a bad thing. Karen would never have taken on Glenn.”
Luke smiled in spite of himself, remembering the surprise in those big gray eyes when they opened to find him over her. “No, she wouldn’t have.”
“Did you get the numbers together on the Broad Street reno proposal?”
Luke knew his dad was changing the subject on purpose and was grateful. “I put some preliminary figures together but nothing solid yet.”
“Well, we have until Monday to turn in the bid. Maybe Harper can help you over the weekend.”
It was weird to think that he now shared his weekends with someone, at least temporarily.
He had grown to value his solitude, but there was something appealing about waking up to her in the mornings.
It still gave him a little jolt to find her in the kitchen digging through the fridge or hunched over his laptop in the front room.
She brought life to the house. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.
“She’s got her hands full at the office. Have to see if she’s ready for me to dump another project on her.”