Chapter 10
10
brODY
A fter dinner, the lingering tension between us evaporates.
It’s surprising how quickly Harper has settled into the rhythm of the cabin. The soft sound of her moving through the space, creating a peaceful background noise, is something I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
I gather an armful of firewood from the neatly stacked pile on the porch, then step back inside, shutting the door behind me. Harper is curled comfortably on the sofa, a fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She’s flipping through a magazine that has to be from the early 2000s.
Harper looks up at me, her bright blue eyes following my every movement.
“What are you smiling about?” I ask, suspicion edging my voice as I place the logs carefully in the fireplace.
I strike a match, and the dry wood crackles to life instantly. Flames flicker and cast long shadows around the room. It was in the upper fifties today, but it will dip into the lower forties tonight.
“Just enjoying the view.” She shrugs, pulling the blanket a little higher, clearly hiding a grin behind its soft folds.
I lift an eyebrow, feeling heat creep up my neck. Her teasing always seems to catch me off guard.
“Should I be concerned?”
“ Definitely ,” she replies playfully, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she reaches for the remote and flips through channels. “Now, what kind of entertainment do we have in this secret hideout of yours?”
I settle onto the couch beside her, intentionally leaving just enough space between us to maintain some semblance of control. Her warmth radiates toward me, tempting me closer. I swallow, focusing instead on the TV.
“It’s not a hideout. It’s a dainty cabin.” I smile, remembering my mom saying that once.
Harper hums thoughtfully, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Hmm. Cozy, rustic, secluded, only one bedroom—sounds like a hideout to me.”
I shoot her a playful scowl, but her teasing feels comfortable, normal—something we haven’t had in a long time. Without thinking, I tug the remote from her hand, flipping to The Golden Girls and turning up the volume slightly. I smirk when Sophia says some smart-ass comment. I think she’s my spirit animal.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You actually like The Golden Girls .”
“Shut up.”
Harper scoffs, laughing. “You’re a softy.”
“You’d better keep my secret,” I tell her, lifting a brow.
“It’s one of my faves too.”
Harper moves closer to me and rests her head against my shoulder. I don’t move, nearly frozen in place as I zero in on Blanche, acting like a scandalous Southern belle again.
Laughter falls out of Harper’s mouth, and then the show cuts to the next commercial break. “If I were a Golden Girl, I think I’d be Blanche.”
I chew on my lip, and she sits upright, glaring at me.
“Oh my God, you agree!”
I tilt my head. “Come on. It’s obvious.”
“Yeah, well, you’d be Sophia! Crotchety, always mouthing off before leaving the room.”
I shrug. “No lies detected.”
“And who would Billie be?”
We meet each other’s eyes and say, “Dorothy,” at the same time, and laughter escapes us.
It feels good. It feels right.
Our shoulders brush, and my breath catches. Suddenly, the air feels charged with something different, warmer. Neither of us moves away.
The episode comes back on, pulling our attention back, and the ladies are arguing in the living room about property taxes. Dorothy’s wearing a puffy-sleeved shirt, and it does kind of remind me of Billie.
I lean back on the couch, kicking off my boots to get more comfortable. I can still feel the heat of Harper’s body close to me. She returns back to my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her, keeping my hand relaxed. We sit in silence, my heart racing, watching my favorite fucking show in the world.
She breathes me in, and I try to ignore it. We laugh at the same jokes the girlies make and scoff at the same time too. Harper keeps her hands to herself, which I’m happy for. At least we still have some boundaries. But I know with every passing second, our guards are falling.
One of us has to stay strong, and every time, it is me.
Harper has tried her damnedest to crack me and has never succeeded. I don’t know what her result will be this time.
Her presence beside me feels natural, easy, and yet I feel the undercurrent sweeping below us.
“What other shows do you like?” she finally says, breaking the silence.
I glance at her. “ Frasier .”
“No way! I love Frasier . They kinda remind me of Easton and Weston.”
“So, I guess that makes me their dad?”
Laughter howls from her. “You are absolutely Martin. The reality-check character who understands the real world, outside of wine tastings and opera houses. Hilarious.”
She’s smiling so wide, and I love to see it.
“This feels right,” I confess, watching her carefully.
Her eyes meet mine, the playful glint replaced by something softer, deeper. “It does.”
She swallows hard, and I look away from her. Her vulnerability is so rare and precious, and I feel so goddamn lucky that she shares this part of herself with me.
I force myself to swallow past the sudden dryness. “It’s really good to see.”
“What is?” she asks.
“Your real smile.”
Her gaze softens further, and she nudges my shoulder with hers. “What am I going to do with you, Brody Calloway? I think I might keep you all to myself, just like this.”
I try to hold back a smile but fail. The admission settles heavily between us. I don’t move away as she snuggles into me. The firelight flickers over us, and for once, I don’t question the closeness. For once, I allow myself to enjoy it.
An hour later, we’re fully invested in an episode of The X Files . The eerie music during a dramatic scene bounces off the cabin walls. The scene grows suspenseful.
“Ah!” I say, jump-scaring her.
“Fuck!” she screams, then playfully smacks me. “I used to hate it when you did that.”
Harper scowls at me, and I’m unable to suppress my grin.
“You and Billie would scream so loud that my fucking ears would ring.”
“You deserved it,” she says. Her head rests back on my shoulder. “One time, I peed myself because you’d scared me so bad.”
“Aww. I’m sorry,” I say, but I’m sincere. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”
“It’s okay. I got you back.”
I tilt my head. “How?”
“I stole a pair of your military jogging pants.”
I shake my head. “The gray ones with the super-soft inside that say USMC on the thigh?”
She nods. “One time when you were home, Billie and I snuck into your room and dug through your shit.”
“How dare you! I always wondered where those had gone,” I say teasingly, but it warms my heart that she took them.
She smiles. “I still have them. They’re tucked in one of my drawers at my place. More comfortable than they were back then.”
“After all this time?” I ask, realizing the fifteen-year-old mystery of what happened to those has been solved. “Guess that will no longer keep me up at night.”
I glance back at the TV, but Harper pulls my attention back to her.
“Years ago, I had a boyfriend break up with me because I’d refused to get rid of them. Was also accused of fucking around with a Marine over it. Was really good times. It was kinda how I determined if someone was a red flag or not.”
My brow lifts. “My stolen clothes ended one of your relationships?”
“Actually … it was kinda how I determined all of my relationships. If the guy I was with became insecure over old joggers, I couldn’t be with them. Major red flag .”
“How many relationships are we talking about?” I ask.
“Five,” she mutters.
I don’t know what to say. “You’re welcome?”
“Saved me a lot of trouble, to be honest. So, a thank-you is totally in order. Thanks.”
I smirk, knowing I need to get a grip as I sink deeper into the worn cushions of the couch. We fall into silence, watching TV together. It’s slow and easygoing, and my eyes grow heavy because I’m so fucking comfortable with her. I try to keep them open, but sleep takes me under, and I drift away.
I don’t know how long I’m out; I only wake when I feel Harper’s arm slung over my stomach as we hold each other tightly, like the other might disappear. I try to steady my breathing, realizing only two hours have passed. She stirs and sits up, pulling away as she realizes how close we are. I immediately feel the loss of her touch.
“I fell asleep,” she says. Her hair is pushed up on the side. With a barely awake sleepy face, she looks adorable.
“Sleeping Beauty is awake,” I say, knowing she’s always loved her naps.
Harper rolls her pretty eyes, grabbing a throw pillow and hitting me lightly on the arm. “Hush. You’re comfortable. I can’t help it.”
I reach for the remote, flipping through channels, not landing on anything interesting.
“Have you ever celebrated a holiday here?” Harper asks. “I can almost imagine a Christmas tree in the corner.”
I smile, remembering the one Christmas we spent here. My mom, dad, sister, and I were all huddled in this small space. It felt a million miles away from the city.
“A few times,” I tell her, reminiscing. “One of my favorites is Fourth of July. The town throws a huge celebration with a parade, a festival, and an incredible firework show. Everyone watches on blankets in the town square. It’s an experience. A must.”
“Really?” she asks. “Wow. I’d love to go.”
“It’s a date,” I tell her.
Her cheeks heat. “A date date?”
I see how her heart rate increases in her neck and notice the her grin. She wants it to be. Maybe I do too.
“I didn’t stutter,” I confirm.
“Okay then.” She shyly glances away from me, then meets my eyes.
I can’t stop the amused grin that pulls at my lips as I watch her struggle with that revelation, until she suddenly blurts out, “Like a date , date?”
“Harp, you know that thing you do where you overanalyze things for no reason?”
She nods. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
“Yeah. You’re being a Frasier right now,” I explain, referring to something she might understand a little more clearly.
“Yeah? Well, you’re being a Martin.”
She chuckles, then growls as she picks up a pillow from behind her and playfully smacks me with it. I grab another one and pop her upside the head.
Harper leaps off the couch, ready to go to battle with me. “Did you seriously forget who my brother was?”
I grab another pillow. “How could I? You both won’t let anyone forget. Don’t go to war with me, Harp.”
“Then concede and make me breakfast in the morning, Calloway!” she declares proudly, her grin infectious.
“And if I don’t?” I tease, shaking my head, unable to hide how damn happy she makes me feel with her competitive nature. It’s ingrained in all the Alexanders.
“Then prepare to lose,” she retorts, snatching a big cushion off the chair by the window.
With all her strength, she steps forward and whacks me with it, and it actually hurts.
I drop the pillow and hold my hands up. “Breakfast is yours. You win. I’ll drive to the small store at the bottom of the mountain tomorrow morning, and I’ll grab food. We can go grocery shopping next week.”
“Music to my ears. I don’t want to be in public yet,” she says with a firm head nod and a smile.
She returns the cushion to the chair, and a comfortable silence settles between us. It’s only punctuated by the crackling of the fire.
I note the curve of her smile and the ease in her posture. For the first time since I brought her here, she looks genuinely relaxed.
“You really are something—you know that?” I say, my voice deeper than I intended.
Her cheeks faintly flush, her eyes brightening with warmth. “Could say the same about you.”
I surrender and sit on the couch. Harper rejoins me, and we return back to where we were.
The evening slips away, and it’s filled with gentle teasing and effortless conversation while we watch TV. Though it’s late, it’s almost like neither of us wants the night to end because, tomorrow morning, the magic that surrounds us might be gone.
Harper’s breathing shifts against my shoulder, and I realize she’s fallen asleep. I’m not paying attention to anything but her. My entire focus narrows down to the woman beside me—her body warm and relaxed, pressed into the curve of my side. It’s easy.
My heart jolts in my chest, a sharp reminder that this—this casual intimacy—is far from simple.
I glance down carefully, trying not to disturb her. Harper’s dark brown hair cascades loosely over my arm, and her lips are parted slightly in peaceful rest. Something about her right now squeezes my heart, pulling at feelings I’ve tried desperately to bury.
“Brody,” she murmurs, shifting even closer, her cheek pressed firmly against my chest.
I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing for a heartbeat before slowly, cautiously relaxing as she holds me tighter. I’m not going anywhere. She’s still asleep.
I click off the TV, and the cabin plunges into a comfortable silence, filled only with the faint crackle of the fireplace. Memories I’ve fought to keep locked away start to surface—Eden’s laugh, Eden’s strength, Eden curled up next to me, just like this.
Tonight, Harper’s warmth against me is a balm, not salt in a wound.
She stirs again, a faint sigh escaping her lips. Gently, I twist my body, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders, lifting her easily. Her eyelids flutter open, her sleepy gaze confused at first, then softening when she realizes it’s me.
“I’m floating,” she says.
“It’s magic,” I whisper. Just like tonight , I think as I walk slowly toward her room.
She curls instinctively closer, her head tucking beneath my chin. The scent of her shampoo—coconut and vanilla—wraps around me.
“You’re carrying me,” she whispers, sounding surprised and something else—grateful maybe.
Her trust—even now, even after the betrayal she’s experienced—hits me harder than I would have expected.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice barely audible.
Carefully, I lower her onto the bed, making sure the pillow supports her head just right. Pulling the blankets around her shoulders, my hand lingers a second too long.
Her eyes briefly meet mine again, heavy yet filled with warmth. “Night, Brody.”
“Night, Harp,” I reply.
“Will you stay?” she asks.
“I can’t, but I’m just a holler away, okay?” I say, forcing myself to step away.
Closing the door, I stand alone in the dimly lit hallway. I exhale deeply, tension knotting between my shoulder blades. This—whatever’s unfolding between Harper and me—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s fucking terrifying. And as much as I want to bust through that door and hold her until she falls asleep, I can’t. But as I return to the living room, the spot on my shoulder where her head rested still feels warm, like a part of her remains.
Maybe I’m losing this fight against my own emotions, but tonight, for the first time in forever, I don’t want to keep running from them.
A lingering smile touches my lips, and I realize I don’t feel weighed down by my past. Instead, there’s a flicker of hope, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, something good can come from all this chaos. Maybe, in some universe, Harper and I can be something more.
I chuckle to myself, shaking my head—because she’s the one who’s supposed to see the silver lining in shitty situations, not me.
Maybe it’s because she is one, and damn did she shine bright tonight.
* * *
I wake early, muscles tight and aching from the couch and the restless night spent wrestling with memories and emotions I’d buried. Harper being in the next room didn’t help matters. It only reminded me of how easily she’d slipped beneath my carefully maintained armor. I’m teetering a dangerous line between protecting her and falling for her.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I step outside into the brisk morning air and lock the cabin. The property is wrapped in a hazy dawn, the sky streaked in hues of muted oranges and pale pinks. Wisps of clouds stream across the sky, and for some reason, it feels lighter, like it’s a new beginning to something exciting. My breath smokes in front of me as I move to the car that’s covered in a layer of frost.
I take the short five-minute drive down the mountain to the small store that carries a few groceries for those who don’t want to drive all the way to town. I grab more groceries than I intended, enough to last us at least five or six more days. I double up on bacon, sausage, eggs, bread, milk, and peanut butter cups. They’re Harper’s favorite.
I pay and quickly rush back to the cabin. After I park, I get out of the car and grab the bags, knowing I’ve been gone for less than fifteen minutes. Through the kitchen window, movement catches my eye.
Harper’s awake, her slender frame illuminated by the soft morning light. She rummages through the cupboards, and I watch her carefully. She looks softer like this, absolutely fucking gorgeous in the muted glow of morning.
I move onto the porch and press my code into the door lock, and it clicks open.
“There you are!” she says, smiling, happy as fuck to see me. It’s undeniable.
“I always keep my promises to you,” I say, placing the groceries and keys on the counter.
She looks at me with wide eyes, her hair a mess from sleep. Her pouty lips turn up into a smile. “I was just going to make us some coffee, so?—”
“Harp,” I interrupt as I add wood to the fireplace and start the fire to take the chill out of the room. “I conceded. I owe you.”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she considers it. “How about we do it together since you let me win? I promise not to burn the place down.”
I hesitate before nodding, trying not to let the easy warmth of her smile slip past my defenses any further. “Deal.”
Side by side, we navigate the tiny kitchen. Harper pulls the items from the bags while I make coffee.
“Peanut butter cups?” she asks as the rich aroma quickly fills the cabin.
“Your favorite,” I say, glancing over at her as she smiles.
Then I see her emotions break, and she almost starts crying.
“Harp,” I say, “what’s up?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I know you think I’m losing it because I’m crying over candy. But … it’s just a sweet gesture and something only Billie has done for me. Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember.”
“Ah, well, you’re welcome. I only have one request though. When you do eat them, you’d better dig the middle out and stick your tongue through the hole, like old times.”
Laughter spills out of her.
“Deal,” she says as she awkwardly cracks an egg into a bowl, tiny shards of shell dropping inside.
I chuckle, dipping my finger into the bowl to remove them. “Maybe you should stick to making coffee.”
“You already did that.” She nudges me playfully with her elbow. “Give me something easier.”
Grinning, I shake my head. “Or let me teach you.”
I take a step closer to her and swipe an egg out of the carton. “When you crack it, you never do it on the side of the bowl because of the edge. Instead, try a flat surface.” I smack it down on the counter to show her. “Then you lightly dig your thumbs where the crack is. See? No shell.”
She stands back and watches me, impressed. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“My mom,” I admit, smiling at the old memories. “Breakfast was always her favorite. One day, I’ll have to make you her famous sausage bread.”
“You’d better,” Harper says, following my instructions. “And I’ll make you my mom’s roasted pumpkin seeds.”
“You’d better,” I repeat back to her.
She’s genuinely excited when she cracks them and no shells are in the bowl. “You’re a great teacher.”
“Maybe it’s the student,” I offer. “Three more, please.”
“Yes, Chef,” she offers with a wink.
There’s an easy silence as we work, our arms occasionally brushing, each contact sending tiny jolts of electricity through me. It’s frustratingly pleasant.
“Brody?” Harper speaks, pausing her task to look up at me. Her expression is sincere, vulnerable.
My pulse quickens involuntarily. “Yeah?”
She hesitates, her gaze dropping momentarily. “Thank you for everything. I know I’ve been a lot to handle.”
Gratitude and sadness mingle in her voice.
“Hey,” I say, turning fully toward her. “I know you’re Little Miss Disaster, but you’re not a lot to handle. It’s been fun. I think I needed this.”
A faint blush colors her cheeks, and she ducks her head shyly. “That’s some high praise, coming from Mr. Grumpy.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I say, unable to hide the smile pulling at my lips.
I put cheesy scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast on plates for us. Harper grabs forks and napkins, and we sit at the small table together.
“More coffee?” she asks, and I nod.
Harper grabs the pot and fills both of our mugs.
The tension from the past few days has quickly been replaced by comfortable companionship. I watch her discreetly as she eats, noting the ease in her movements, the genuine smile she shares freely.
When we finish eating, she reaches to clear the dishes, but I stop her, my fingers wrapping lightly around her wrist.
“Let me take care of it.”
Our eyes lock, and the air thickens instantly. We’re actually closer than I realized, and her breath hitches. Harper’s gaze drops briefly to my mouth before meeting my gaze. My heart warns me to pull away, to maintain our distance, but I find myself frozen, completely under her spell.
Just as the air between us grows impossibly charged, Harper draws back, offering a shy, teasing smile that nearly undoes me completely.
“Careful, Calloway,” she warns, her voice teasing yet uncertain. “I don’t want to embarrass myself again.”
I clear my throat, forcing a smirk, remembering the time when she was eighteen and tried to kiss me, but I stopped her. Harper was embarrassed, and I told her not to be, but I could not cross that line with her.
This time, she steps away, leaving me staring after her, the space between us feeling emptier than before. I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the unfamiliar surge that rushes through me. It’s a spark, a flicker in the dark, and I can almost feel its heat.
No matter how much I fight it, she’s quickly slipping past my defenses, and I’m not sure I can stop it. Or if I want to.
As we finish cleaning up our breakfast mess, Harper stands by the sink, staring out the kitchen window, her eyes bright as she scans over the backyard. I brace myself, knowing that look like the back of my hand. It always means trouble, though I have to admit, it’s an expression of hers I’ve missed.
“Hey,” she says, spinning to face me. “Can we go outside and play?”
I burst into laughter, recognizing the restless energy radiating off of her. She crosses her arms in playful defiance.
“Come on. Fresh air, a little adventure—it’s exactly what we need,” she practically begs, and I can’t deny her.
On the way here, I stopped and got her a few plain T-shirts and leggings, along with a pair of off-brand tennis shoes. It’s nothing nice, considering it was a small general store, but at least she has something to wear that fits her.
“Fine. But if we see a bear, I’m tripping you first.” I exhale, giving in, but I was going to anyway.
Her eyes widen in mock outrage, but her laughter breaks through anyway. “Wow, thanks for having my back.”
“Always,” I tease lightly. “Get dressed, and we’ll go.”
It takes her less than two minutes, excitement in every step she takes. We move outside, the crisp air instantly waking my senses. Harper bounds, her footsteps light across the earth.
She throws a glance over her shoulder, grinning mischievously. “Are you coming or crawling?”
“I’m pacing myself,” I answer dryly, pretending annoyance. Truth is, I enjoy seeing her so carefree and joyful, like the weight of the last few days is momentarily forgotten.
We wander deeper into the woods, sunlight filtering through the branches, casting patterns of gold across the trail. Harper effortlessly skips over exposed tree roots and fallen branches, occasionally spinning around to taunt me.
“You know, for someone so big and tough, you’re pretty slow,” she teases, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling.
I raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “I’m conserving energy.”
We hike for another hour, and I know the trail continues going up to one of the lookouts on the mountain, but when we get to a meadow in the clearing, she stops and admires it.
“This is beautiful,” she whispers.
“I agree,” I say—however, I’m only looking at her.
She turns and sees me, shyly smiling. We hold an unspoken conversation, and I feel emotions streaming out of her in waves. I watch her, heart pounding. This is uncharted territory, but as her smile lingers, I can’t bring myself to care.
As things between us grow too intense, she clears her throat. “Last one to the cabin owes the other dinner.”
Before I can protest, she’s already sprinting away, hair flying behind her, fluttering in the wind. Shaking my head, I chase after her, deliberately keeping a few paces behind. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with adrenaline and laughter.
“Come on! Don’t go easy on me,” she hollers, so I pick up my pace.
When I try to push past her, she kicks her foot out and trips me.
“Cheater!” I say as I tumble to the ground, but it’s more of a maneuver than a complete stop, and I pop back up.
“Oh my fucking God, are you a Terminator?” she yells, sprinting as hard as she can.
“Yes!” I say as we emerge from the forest’s edge, the cabin coming into view.
Harper runs as fast as she can, and while I can easily pass her, I let her push forward, crossing her imaginary finish line on the porch.
Harper raises her fists victoriously. “Yes!” she shouts, spinning around, breathless. “Dinner’s on you, Calloway!”
I catch up to her, stopping close, unable to suppress my smile, not even breathless.
Her joy is contagious, and for a moment, we’re both free of every heavy thought, every worry that’s been weighing us down.
“Congratulations,” I say, chuckling. “You earned it.”
She grins, stepping closer, her gaze softening. “You’re terrible at losing on purpose, you know.”
I shrug, pretending to be innocent.
She studies me knowingly, eyes full of unspoken emotions, as we step inside the cabin.
The afternoon drifts by in a haze, and by the time the sun starts dragging low across the trees, the world around the cabin softens into that lazy kind of quiet I can only ever find here. This is easy. Real. But also a dream in a way I’m trying not to think about too much.
I chop more wood, making sure we have enough for the next few days, as Harper stretches out on the porch swing, wrapped in one of the cabin’s old quilts, her bare feet peeking out the bottom. I stack the logs on the porch as she watches the sunset looking half wild, half angelic, with her hair a mess from the breeze. A smile touches my lips as I step inside grabbing snacks, thinking about how her cheeks are sun pink from the sunshine she soaked in earlier.
She needed it. We both did.
I nudge door open with my shoulder, carrying two sodas and a big, half-smashed bag of cheese puffs under my arm. Classy as hell.
“You planning on staying out here all night?” I ask, passing her on the porch.
Harper lifts her head lazily, and that slow, sexy grin is already forming.
“Are you volunteering to carry me inside, Calloway? Because you’ll have to wrestle me for the privilege.”
I chuckle, handing her the soda as I drop onto the swing beside her. “Harp, if you want my body on top of you, just ask.”
She scoffs as she opens the cola with a hiss. “You actually wish!”
The swing rocks beneath us, the old chains creaking in rhythm. For a few minutes, we just sit there, sipping and watching the sunset torch the sky in molten golds and purples.
Without thinking, she nudges my knee with her foot, trying to annoy me. I catch her ankle before she can pull it back, my hand curling around the warm skin.
“You’re gonna fuck around and find out.”
She wiggles her toes at me, grinning. “I think I already have.”
God help me, she’s not wrong.
I don’t let her go right away. My thumb brushes the inside of her ankle—a small, thoughtless motion—and suddenly, everything feels sharper, clearer.
“Even if I annoy you, I know you’ll miss me when this is over,” she says.
I look right at her and say low, “I will.”
For a second, the swing keeps rocking, and neither of us says anything.
Then she sits upright, bumping her shoulder into mine. “Careful, Calloway. That almost sounded like feelings. We both know you don’t have those.”
I huff out a laugh, raking a hand through my hair. “Don’t panic, Sleeping Beauty. I’m not proposing.”
“Yet.”
She laughs—really laughs—and I can feel the tension ease between us, even if her words are wrapped with truth.
Whatever this is lingering between us is waiting to capture us both.
“It’s been a long time since I trusted anyone enough to want them close,” I admit.
Harper doesn’t speak right away. She doesn’t tease my words away or press for more information. She just lets my words float around us, like a firefly in the night.
“I like that,” she admits.
A few minutes later, she shifts, snagging the bag of cheese puffs. Without warning, Harper grabs a handful and pelts me with them.
“What the hell?” I duck as neon-orange puffs bounce off my chest and arm, leaving dust in their wake.
“You’re getting way too sentimental,” she says, laughing, her eyes sparkling like the damn sunset. “Consider this an emotional intervention.”
I reach down, grab a rogue puff, and flick it back at her with deadly aim, nailing her square in the forehead.
She gasps like I mortally wounded her. “That’s assault with a cheesy weapon!”
“Self-defense,” I say, deadpan, grabbing more ammo.
Within seconds, cheese puffs are flying back and forth across the porch.
The swing rocks dangerously. Harper’s laughing so hard that she’s crying, trying to dodge and throw at the same time.
Finally, she surrenders, collapsing into my side, breathless and grinning.
“You’re a menace, Calloway,” she says, poking me in the ribs half-heartedly.
I wiggle away from her, not wanting her to realize how fucking ticklish I am.
When I glance at her, I tilt my head, catching her gaze, as something heavier stirs under the playful wreckage of our little war.
“You fucking love it,” I say, voice rough around the edges.
“You’re right about that,” she admits, before she tucks her face against my shoulder, like she’s hiding from her admission.
But I felt the electricity streaming between us and saw the sparkle in her eye.
I know with bone-deep certainty, that I’m not just falling for her. I’m already hers. And somehow, she’s mine. Neither of us are brave enough to admit it, but eventually, we won’t be able to deny it.