Chapter 3
Asher
Ishould have known by now that this woman would be the death of me.
Harper is still shrieking, pressing against my chest as she tries to worm her way out from underneath me. From the way she’s acting, you’d think I was a giant spider, and she’s suffering from arachnophobia. I’m half surprised she’s not screaming, “Get it off me!”
“What are you doing?! Get off me!” she shouts.
There it is.
I brace my hands on the floor, attempting to push myself up, but I slip and land on her again each time. I guess I can cross push-ups off my workout list for the day.
“I’m fucking trying. It’s slippery!” I snap.
“How did you manage to get so much water on the floor?” she asks.
“I had to get my soap. I forgot it in my bag.”
“Did you spill that on the floor too? Jesus.”
I roll off of her and stand up. Harper scampers to her feet and for a moment we are both just standing there, breathing heavily as if whatever just happened on the floor was a lot more exciting.
Harper’s eyes rake over me, but I’m not sure if it’s voluntary or not. I can almost feel them as they trail from my shoulders down my chest, abs, and then lower. As if she just realized I am naked, she slaps her hands over her eyes, and her face turns beet red.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks again.
“That bad, huh?” I ask, stepping back into the shower.
“I was not supposed to see that!” She says as she blindly shuffles towards the door. When I hear her grunt in aggravation, I can’t help but smile.
After I finish showering, I find Harper in the kitchen taking inventory of what is in the fridge and cabinets.
“It’s fully stocked,” I tell her.
“How long do you plan on being here?” she asks.
“Until we fly back. I guess they wanted us to have plenty of options.”
“There’s enough food here to last a week,” she mutters, as if it’s a bad thing. She closes the fridge door and turns around to face me. And with as much authority and sass as she can muster at all of five-foot-two, she holds her chin high and says, “Take me to the airport.”
I just laugh and walk past her to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “No can do.”
Harper turns to face me again. “Why the hell not? And why are you only wearing a towel!?”
“Which question do you want me to answer first?” I ask, leaning lazily against the counter.
I cross one foot over the other, and my towel shifts.
Whether it gave her a peek at anything under the towel, I don’t know.
But her face flushes to a rose petal pink, and I smirk.
“What? I just got out of the shower? I could have walked out here without the towel, but seeing how it sent you into a fit, I did you the courtesy of covering up.”
Harper’s glare shoots lasers into me.
“You got what you wanted,” she says. “You ruined my wedding because you and my asshole brother hate Daniel. His restaurants are better than yours, I get it–”
I scoff at that, but she goes on.
“So now that you’ve managed to destroy any chance I had at happiness, you can take me to the airport.”
I just shake my head. “Our flight isn’t until tomorrow.” Then I turn toward the fridge. “Hungry? There’s chicken, flank steak, shrimp…we could make kebabs…or fajitas?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” she cries out.
“Okay, okay, so not fajitas.”
Suddenly, Harper’s hands are on me, making a rather pathetic attempt to spin me around and back me against the fridge.
“Listen to me,” she says with more malice than I thought she was capable of. I mean, I always knew she was spicy, but damn. I’m almost impressed. “You can’t keep me here. I’m not spending the night with a kidnapper. You’re lucky I don’t call the police.”
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “Call the cops. I won’t stop you.”
The thing is, I know this girl, and I know she won’t do it. One of the most endearing things about Harper St. James is that she is all bark and no bite. She’s sassy and salty; determined, but not a risk taker. She’s a good girl, and good girls don’t belong with men like Daniel Colby.
“One night,” I tell her, placing my hands on her shoulders. “One night, and then we fly back to Colorado, and you can do whatever you want.”
“How do you know I won’t just go to the courthouse with Daniel? You can’t stop us forever, you know.”
I know because I know Daniel.
I know why Daniel wants to marry her.
Harper is a proclaimed virgin.
She accepts dates and drinks from guys, but before things can get past first base, she puts up barriers. Without a ring on her finger, they’re not getting an inch more. She’s got a reputation for being one of the biggest teases in downtown Denver.
To Daniel Colby, she’s a challenge.
His intention was to put a ring on it, take the V-card, and end the whole thing. He plans to win the game and do a post touchdown victory dance in front of me and Jaylen.
But that’s not all.
Daniel is also seeing Angie, the head bartender at the restaurant Harper waitresses at. If I had to guess, Angie isn’t a virgin.
If you think about it, Harper is the side-chick.
The whole thing has me seething.
Seething enough to sabotage it all.
“Like I said, you can do anything your heart desires after we get back to the States. In the meantime, you should really think about what it is your heart desires. I’m making kebabs.”
I slip out from behind her and walk over to the bedroom to put on regular clothes. It’s fun watching the color of her face change from blush to deep pink every time I move, but I’m starting to chafe.
To my surprise, she follows me to the bedroom, but stands in the doorway.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demands. “I know you and Jaylen have some sort of boyish rivalry with Daniel, but he’s not who you think.”
I smile at that. “Are you insinuating that you know Daniel better than I do?”
“Yes. I am.”
I appear in the doorway wearing only black boxer briefs and, guessing from the look on her face, it’s as risqué as the towel. “I have known Daniel for ten years, and for ten years, he’s been nothing but a snake. There’s nothing he won’t do to get what he wants, no matter how shady.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. He–God, can you put some clothes on!?” she says, covering her eyes again.
“I’m trying, but someone won’t leave me alone,” I tease, grabbing a pair of gym pants.
With the heels of her palms pressed to her eyes, Harper says, “Daniel might seem like this cocky, tough guy on the outside, but on the inside he’s–”
“Slimy?” I cut her off.
“No!” she snaps. “He’s sweet, and I really like him. Regardless of whether you and my brother believe it.”
“Like?” I raise my eyebrows as I question her. It’s entertaining to see the effect I have on her when I tower over her.
“I meant love. I love him. And I am going to marry him whether or not you two like him.”
I make my way to the kitchen and start making dinner. After a six-hour flight that provided nothing more than a package of stale cookies and two stiff drinks, I am starved. I think it’s making me more sarcastic, which doesn’t seem to be helping our situation, even if it is amusing.
“Tell me something,” I say as I start chopping peppers, onions, and pineapple. “How long have you two known each other?”
“I’ve worked at the Silver Spoons for a year. We started dating three months ago,” she answers robotically, like it’s an interview question.
“That’s a bit rushed, don’t you think?” I ask.
“When you know, you know,” her cliché response makes my lips twitch at the corners, but I bite back the smile. I think about making a joke to try to calm the waters, but I decide against it. I think it’s going to be a long night at the rate we are going.
While I finish making dinner, she paces the floor, hemming and hawing as she types on her phone.
“Still MIA?” I ask as I carry the plates to the table on the patio. Despite the circumstances, we really are in paradise, and I hate to waste it. Perfect weather, a salty breeze, and crashing waves. Aside from some rain clouds in the far distance, it’s gorgeous.
“He probably lost his phone while chasing after me,” she says.
“Funny, I didn’t hear any footsteps in my wake.”
I choose not to look at her because I know she’s glaring at me.
It’s quiet while we eat. The chicken kebabs are perfect, and the wine is great too. When I paid for a stocked fridge, they really delivered.
“This is good, thank you,” Harper says.
I look up at Harper, who isn’t quite as bitter anymore and is chewing quietly. Turns out the girl just needed a Snickers or a glass of wine. I pick up my glass and nod over to her.
“I noticed you looking at the minibar earlier. I thought a drink might help.”
She swallows and dabs her perfect pink lips with a napkin. “I was actually checking out what they had. I love mixology.”
This earns a grin from me. “Mixology, huh? And here Colby has you working as a waitress? You need to get behind the bar, girl.”
Something flashes across her expression. “Yeah, well, Daniel already has a bartender. She’s not very good at her job, but he keeps her around, anyway. I’m not sure why.”
Because he’s fucking her. Because he can’t fuck you…
“Let’s not talk about him anymore,” I suggest, taking another sip of wine.
“Thank you,” she says, tipping her glass towards me. Little does she know, I’m doing it for me, not her. I’m two seconds away from telling her the truth, but I can’t bring myself to break her heart.
Not yet, anyway.
She’s been through enough today.
My phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket. Speak of the devil. I glance up at Harper, who is chewing gingerly as she stares off at the beach. Without letting on who it is, I quietly stand up to take the call inside.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” Daniel’s voice comes through the phone the second I accept the call.
“I could say the same thing to you, Colby,” I say as I walk through the villa and out the front door.
I want to be sure she can’t hear the conversation. If she knows I’m talking to him, she’ll have an aneurysm. I wouldn’t put it past her to spider monkey onto my back to pry the phone from my hand seeing as how he’s basically ghosting her.
“Let me ask you something, Levine. Have you ever stayed in your own lane, or do you get your rocks off by taking what other people have?”
A snicker escapes my throat. “Says the man whose entire industry is built on copycat recipes and putting other people out of business. And she isn’t yours. Harper will never be yours because if you come near her ever again; I will tell her the truth.”
“And which truth is that?” he asks. “That you’re jealous because I always get what I want?”
“That you only want to be with her so you can fuck her and wave her V-card around like a victory flag. Meanwhile, you’re fucking your bartender. Surely even you can see how twisted that is.”
“Not as twisted as you crashing our wedding. She’s going to hate you forever for that,” he argues.
“Not when she finds out the truth. Which she will find out. It’s just a matter of when.
So I suggest you stay away. Don’t come looking for her, don’t talk to her, don’t even text her.
Or I’ll personally see to it that she and everyone else knows you’re a cheat and that you’re fucking half your staff.
That’s not going to look so great for your reviews. ”
I hang up. I’m not giving him a chance to respond.
When I get back inside, Harper has dinner cleaned up and is looking for something in the minibar.
“You didn’t have to do the dishes,” I tell her, shoving my phone back into my pocket.
“You cooked,” she says, and there’s an awkward moment between us. It all sounds so domestic.
“Anything good?” I nod at the liquor selection.
“Most of it is local. Brands I haven’t even heard of before,” she answers, and I walk over to stand next to her.
“A lot of rum,” I note.
“Yeah,” she half smiles, but it disappears as her eyes seemingly involuntarily graze my bare chest again. “Do you always walk around without a shirt on?” She asks, purposely putting space between us.
“Usually I don’t have pants on either, but I figured that would be inappropriate,” I tease.
“That remark is inappropriate,” she says.
I know I shouldn’t ask, but I have to know why she is acting so uncomfortable seeing me shirtless. “Am I the first man you’ve seen naked?”
“In person,” she answers, and then looks mortified that she did.
“You watch porn?” I ask arching one eyebrow.
“Of course not! I do read romance--”
“Ah! So you read porn,” I say, delighted with myself at how clever I am.
“It’s not porn,” she argues, making her way to the bedroom.
I follow. “Whatever gets you excited at the end of the day.”
“It does not get me excited,” she argues as she violently fluffs the pillows.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she is getting excited right now.
“I’m tired,” she says. “I’m going to bed. The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner we can get out of here.”
“Fair enough,” I say, turning the other side of the bed down.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands.
“Going to bed. Like you said.”
Harper laughs. “We are not sleeping in the same bed, Ash.”
“I don’t know if you remember pointing it out earlier, princess, but there’s only one bed. Hey, isn’t that a romance trope?”
She doesn’t find it funny at all. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I’m not insinuating that you sleep with me. I’m insinuating that you sleep next to me. It’s a California King, and you’re like three feet tall. I’m sure we’ll fit.”
“And I’m sure you’ll fit on the couch,” she says, and I laugh.
Until I realize she’s serious.
I study her for a moment, knowing that this is going to be a fight. A fight neither of us has the energy for, so I grab a pillow and a blanket and go to the living room.
As I lay on the couch, which is a sectional so luckily it is big enough, I can hear the waves crash against the shore outside. A soft breeze wafts through the still-open doors, and the air is a little chillier than I expected. It smells like rain.
I grab my phone and check the weather app. My heart drops through a trapdoor in my chest and lands in my stomach.
Severe storm warning.
At the same time, I get a notification from the airline.
Airlines have cancelled all outgoing flights for tomorrow.
Fuck.