Chapter 11 Harper #2
While he’s changing, I pull out the dress and cut off the tags using a kitchen knife.
Sliding off my shorts, sandals, and T-shirt, I heft the soft material of the dress over my head, careful not to mess up my hair or makeup.
The plunging V-neck dips to mid-stomach, so I remove my bra and toss it over the counter to land on the sofa, my bed.
“You can dress in my bedroom,” Ben says, voice low. “You’re a woman. You like the kitchen, but some things should stay in the bedroom.”
Grabbing the knife I used to cut off the tag, I aim it at him in mock outrage. “Take it back.” I smirk. Cursing at him in one of the languages I know he’s fluent in, I make my way around the counter. A half grin pulls the side of his mouth up as he replies back, something just as mean.
He raises one brow. “Or else what? You attack me with a steak knife? Sounds like my kind of Friday night.” It’s now that Ben finally lets his gaze dip to the rest of my body.
His neck works to swallow as he takes in the neckline, or lack thereof.
“Or maybe we can add something else to the agenda.” He licks his lips.
I set the knife down on the edge of the counter. Even I have limits on how far I’ll go to prove a point. “You like my dress?”
“It jogs a certain memory.”
Picking up the heels—something I almost never wear—off a barstool, I balance on one foot and then the other to slip them on my feet. “I didn’t have the rack to wear this back then, but I did buy it for the color.”
He’s watching my every move—studying every motion and movement my body creates. Sometimes it’s like I’m an art model on display for him. If I move just the right way, maybe the spell will be broken, and he’ll be unable to remember what he’s desperately trying not to forget.
“You look pretty dashing yourself, Mr. Brahams. Thanks for coming with me. It’s the culmination of everything I’ve been working toward.
” I bury the compliment in other mundane facts so I don’t have to feel awkward about giving it.
He does look stunning, though. Now that he fills out a suit with broad shoulders and thick arms, I know no one is going to miss him regardless of what he’s wearing.
“I need you to know something,” Ben replies. “Something I want to say that has nothing to do with you, but it probably has everything to do with us.”
Sighing, I steel myself for more conversation I’d rather not have. “Can we chat on the way? I don’t want to be late. My face will literally melt off at midnight. Like Cinderella, except more real. Like Courtney Love.”
He laughs and grabs his keys to lock the door. “Norah wants to take a break from our relationship.”
I nod. “We talked today while she was helping me get ready for tonight. Talk about weird. It feels right, though. Being her friend. She understands us, Ben.”
“She understands how I feel about you, Harps. Not us. No one else can understand us.”
He closes his door to the truck and starts it up. “I need to know where we stand. It’s almost as if the stars are aligning right now in the sky we grew up under to make us happen.”
Panic sets in. I’m not the type of person who destroys a relationship for the sake of my own feelings. I always put others before myself. “What are you asking?” My words come out in a rush of hysteria.
“It’s been a while since we last had this conversation, and I’m dropping it into our space again.
For your consideration. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight.
I can tell you’re about to hyperventilate over there, and I don’t want one of your tits to pop out in a panic attack.
We’re not dressed for Jazzercise right now.
I’m throwing it out there again. That’s all. ”
He’ll throw it out there until the cows come home. Until we’re old and gray, and I’m finally brave enough to take what I want. “You aren’t officially broken up, though. Are you?” It’s a minor detail most people this in love would overlook in light of our situation. I’m wary—in unfamiliar territory.
He furrows his brows as his lips purse. “If you need me to make that more official than the current state, I will. This whole thing with Marcus has made me realize how important you are to me. I stare death down on a regular basis, and I don’t bat an eyelash.
When your life comes into question, Harper, it’s no contest.”
I take a deep breath and adjust my dress.
I don’t want a tit to pop out only because it would prove him right, and right now I want him to be wrong.
“I just need to think on it, okay? I haven’t been single in years.
I need to think. I’ve had this plan in my mind, how everything was going to be and end up, and in less than a second, he changed everything I thought I knew.
” The hot sting of betrayal cuts through my chest. I’m not sad about Marcus anymore.
The memory of him and what he stole gives me rage.
Norah told me I needed to sort through my feelings, and I snapped at her. She’s right. “This isn’t that simple.”
“Let me take you bowling tomorrow. A Ben and Harper simple date.”
Crossing my legs, I turn to glance at the side of his face. He’s so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. It’s a moment of weakness. Of taking what I want for selfish reasons. “Yes. Fine. Bowling.” Sighing, I draw his gaze.
Ben bites his bottom lip. “I’ll whip your ass like always, and we can binge on dirty water beer and nachos. I bet you won’t even get food poisoning this time.”
“You make it sound so appealing,” I deadpan. The smirk rises to my face anyway. “What’s tonight then? A pre-date date?”
“Tonight, I’m just your plus one.”
He does so admirably while mingling with my coworkers and superiors.
I never thought he wouldn’t. Ben is smarter than I am.
This was a path he didn’t choose but could have easily excelled in.
My boss is impressed with his knowledge of a current language study.
I sent him the link months ago with a note to give it a read if he had time.
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined he’d give it a second look, let alone read it thoroughly enough to quote passages and dissect nuances.
I almost forget this isn’t his career, nothing like his chosen profession.
Ben sings my praises, he makes sure my glass of champagne is filled at all times, and he even pretends not to notice when Marcus enters the ballroom from the side door.
We see him at the same time, though, so it’s obvious he’s aware.
His posture changes, his stance widens, and his breaths come in a furious succession as he becomes a human shield.
One of his arms turns into a mom seat belt as he backs me away from a threat half a football field away.
I never filed a restraining order against Marcus.
Not because it wasn’t the right thing to do—I should have on principle alone—but I know he’s not a threat to me anymore.
That moment of hypocritical anger was his moment, the last memory he’ll ever have of Harper Rosehall in his world.
Not only that, but his professional life would have been ruined, and my life would have been made more difficult.
Facts aside, he wasn’t supposed to be here tonight, and that makes my whole body itch with unease.
Looping my arm through Ben’s, I guide him to the other side of the room.
There’s a live jazz band playing softly, several tables with gourmet foods spread throughout the room, all under the beautiful low light of a gregarious chandelier in the center of the room.
Ben’s whole demeanor changes at the prospect of conflict.
“Time to go then?” he asks.
Coworkers try not to stare between Marcus and me.
In the act of trying not to, they do—their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of us.
No one but Martina knows all the details about the demise of our relationship, one that was heralded as the most epic love story of all time.
The love linguistics department. Not so much.
What most are aware of is it went down fast, crashing so hard that we don’t even speak anymore or want to be in the same breathing space together.
He nudges me again, his large hand encompassing my whole waist, and repeats, “Time to go?” The taut bulge of his muscles presses against me. An anti-warning because, unlike Marcus, Ben would use his muscles and body to protect me at all costs.
Squeezing Ben’s hand, I say, “I really wanted to see Martina before we left. I bet she shows up shortly. We can eat more cheese,” I offer.
When he looks at me, his eyes hold a fear so palpable, it makes my heart rate pick up. “It’s fine. Look at this room full of people. Don’t be scared of him.” It’s a joke. Put the men side by side, and you have a laughable match. Ben could squash Marcus with a mean glare.
“I’m afraid of what I’m going to do to him,” he replies, teeth gritted.
I tsk. “A gentleman would dance with his plus one. Not get into a”—I look around the room, narrowing my eyes—“well, I can’t call it a bar brawl, per se.
How about a work function fight?” I eye the band and hold up my arms to the side.
“Dance with me?” This is a new territory.
Me calming Ben. “Don’t even think about him.
He’s afraid of me. I could have destroyed him. ” I roll my eyes for good measure.
The temptation to wrap his arms around me wins out, like I hoped it would, and he pulls me into his chest in one big heave. “You should have, Harper. I’ll forget it for the moment, but we’re coming back to this topic later. You smell so good.” Distraction manipulated. One point.
He holds me closer and bends his head into my neck. Ben doesn’t spin us, we kind of sway, and I know it’s so he can keep his gaze locked on Marcus. I shiver in response to a blast of air conditioning. “He’s ruining this for me,” Ben growls, his lips barely brushing the side of my ear.