Chapter 9
Asher
Of course that fucker would ruin the moment.
He’s stayed MIA for three solid days and chooses now to come out of the woodwork. Not that I thought he’d actually listen to my threats and stay away. Daniel Colby sees threats as challenges and charges at them with freshly sharpened horns.
Still, the timing couldn’t have been worse.
There was electricity in the air. The conversation was light, but buzzy, and Harper looked incredible.
White linen pants, a black cropped tank top, strappy enough to show off her shoulder tattoo.
When did she get a tattoo? What else have I failed to notice about her?
The humidity in Costa Rica sticks to her long, red hair.
It’s usually as straight as a pin, but the weather here makes it full and wavy. Touchable. Grabbable.
We almost kissed. It was going to happen, and we both knew it. And then that jerkoff calls like he could fucking sense it.
I sit at the bar nursing the Negroni she made me, which is excellent, and listen to her talking on the phone from the other room. I can’t fully make out the conversation, but I can tell from her tone that it’s not going particularly well.
I hear her say, “No, Daniel. It wasn’t planned. How could you think that it was planned?”
Jesus. This asshole thought she was in on it?
“I had no idea he was going to show up. No, Jaylen had nothing to do with it…because I talked to him…of course I believe him, he’s my brother. No, Daniel, I don’t think you’re crazy. I never called you crazy. I know…I know…”
He’s ripping into her. It makes me want to rip into him. There is no way in hell I was going to let her go through with it, knowing what I know. It makes me want to lose it on him, listening to her get chewed out.
“Daniel. Of course I love you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days. We’re still here because the storm downed some trees and damaged the road. I would have flown back with you if I could have. Daniel. This is not my fault. Daniel…?”
The room goes quiet, and I know that was the end of it. He lost his mind, went postal on her, and hung up. I wait for Harper to come back into the room, staring into the bottom of my Negroni glass.
“Well,” she says when she gets back to the bar. She reaches for one of the drinks, but her face tells me she can’t stomach it right now. “Go ahead and say it.”
“Say what?” I ask quietly, still staring at the glass. If it isn’t obvious, I feel like shit.
“You were right. Daniel is…” her voice cracks. “An asshole.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t want to be right. Not about him, anyway,” I tell her.
Harper lets out a small, smile-less laugh and reaches for the Malibu Orchid. “No. It doesn’t make me feel any better. I don’t know if anything could make me feel better.” She takes a sip, and her emerald eyes glisten like sea glass.
This girl is a tough cookie, and it’s tearing me apart.
“What did he say?” I ask.
Harper waits a moment, emotions flushing her face, but she’s stubborn enough not to let the tears fall. Then she clicks her tongue and stirs the cocktail in front of her with the slender black straw. “He’s pissed, obviously. He said we made him look like a fool.”
“There was no one there to see it,” I say, though I don’t suppose that’s helpful.
“No, but his friends are asking him about it. Mostly asking how the wedding night went. He told them…” she pauses to swallow. “He told them he left me at the altar. He didn’t think it was fair to admit what really happened.”
“Of course he didn’t,” I mutter, reaching for one of the other drinks.
“He also said it’s over between us,” she adds and my eyes flash up to her. A wave of relief and another wave of overwhelming empathy crash over me at the same time.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s a lie. I’m not sorry; she deserves better. I am sorry that she’s hurting. That is something I never wanted to see.
“You know what the worst part is?” she opens up. “He avoided my calls. I was never even given a chance to tell my side of the story. It was like he didn’t care what I had to say about the whole situation.”
Fuck. I thought I felt low, but this is bottom of the gutter low.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she adds.
“How do you figure?” I ask, turning the glass on the table.
Harper gets up and rounds the bar to make another drink. This one is rum heavy with just a splash of maraschino juice and a handful of cherries.
“Imagine being married to someone who never wants to hear your side of the story. I almost question whether he wanted to be married to me or if he just wanted to have me.”
Jesus.
Harper takes a sip of the drink, grimaces, and pops a cherry in her mouth.
“Some men are like that,” I say. I should tell her the truth. Drop the bomb while things are already on fire and get it over with. But for some reason, I just can’t. I can’t bring myself to make it worse.
“You know, I can’t help but wonder…” she says, then bites her lip and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“What?” I press.
Harper waits a beat. “I wonder if he’s been cheating on me.”
I swallow hard.
Now’s the time. Say it. Admit it.
“What makes you think that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It’s just the way he acts with other women. At first, I thought it was just his personality. He has to be personable because of his job, you know? But the way he acts with some of the other girls at the restaurant, I wonder if there is more to it than that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” I say quietly, feeling even more like shit.
She runs her hands through her hair and then stops.
Then she pulls her left hand down, staring at the rock of a solitaire diamond on her hand.
Her lips twitch, and she shows a hint of emotion before she pulls the ring off and throws it across the room.
It bounces off the tile once before hitting the ground again and breaking apart.
Harper gets up and walks over to the broken ring and shows it to me.
It’s cracked in half.
“It would be a fake ring,” she says with an angry headshake.
That cheap motherfucker.
“Well. Fuck him,” she says, and I look up at her. “For real. I don’t need a guy like that in my life. I dodged a bullet, if you think about it.”
You have no idea.
Harper walks over to the door where she hurls both pieces of the ring outside. Then she comes back to the table to toss back the rest of her drink. She shakes her head with a grimace before fishing out the cherries with her straw.
“Are you doing alright?” I ask. “Maybe you should take it easy.”
“I just got dumped, Ash. The last thing I need to do is take it easy.”
“Alright, well, these stools are killing my back,” I lie. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” I’m really just trying to get her away from the bar. She’s definitely buzzy, but if she has any more alcohol, I’m betting she’ll be hunched over a toilet.
“Or better yet! Let’s go sit by the pool. It’s lovely outside.”
Before I can say anything else, Harper is grabbing me by the hand and leading me out to the pool.
She sits on the edge and puts her feet in the water, not caring that her linen pants are getting wet.
I join her; it really is nice. The air is warm; the view is breathtaking, and the scent of coconut and honey wafts off her.
“You have a tattoo on your foot,” I notice, nodding down.
“I do!” she says, lifting it out of the water, revealing white painted toenails and what might be the most gorgeous, sun-kissed calf I’ve ever seen. “It’s a starling.”
“It’s pretty,” I tell her.
“It hurt like hell,” she says with a bubbly laugh. “And Jaylen lost his shit when I got it.”
“Why would he care?” I ask.
“I was seventeen,” she says with a little shoulder shrug.
“Well, look at you being all rebellious,” I tease.
“More than either of you know,” she says. Then, she stands up and shoves her pants to the ground.
“What are you doing?” I ask. But Harper just stands in front of me in her black tank and black panties, smiling down at me before she jumps in the pool. I shield myself from the splash, but can’t help laughing.
I like this Harper.
Even if she’s sad, she’s free.
When she emerges, her smile is wide. She smooths back the hair from her face, and her green eyes flutter open. Between the hair and the eyes and the blue water rippling around her, I swear she looks unreal.
“You want to know a secret?” She says as she slowly and effortlessly treads the water in front of me.
“Tell me,” I say, my voice low. Enticed. Lured.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
My head tilts curiously to the side. “You’ve never been kissed?”
“Nope,” she answers.
“By anyone?”
She shakes her head with a smile.
“Not even with a closed mouth?” I ask.
“Not even a peck,” she says, and I can’t imagine such a thing. While I’m attempting to wrap my brain around it, she curls a finger in a come here motion.
“Come in,” she calls over to me. “It feels amazing. You didn’t tell me the water feels this amazing.”
“I’m in my clothes,” I tell her. As if that would stop me. As if anything in the world could come between me and the siren in the water. Harper has always been magnetic to me, but as she put it, it’s been off limits.
Off limits because she is almost fifteen years younger than me.
Off limits because she is my best friend’s sister.
Off limits because she was in a relationship and I won’t be a part of infidelity.
One of those things is no longer an issue. The other two could be our little secret.
I hop in the pool and let myself sink for a moment, opening my eyes in the crystal blue water. Harper is in front of me, her eyes watching mine, tiny bubbles of air rising from her smile to the surface, her hair dancing in slow motion like ribbons suspended in the air.
Together, we swim to the top, and when we do, she is close enough to touch. Close enough to taste. Close enough to kiss…
So I do.
My mouth covers hers. Soft. Hot. Wet. Sweet.
Her lips part and I run the tip of my tongue along her bottom lip. Then I clip her chin in my fingers and press my lips harder to hers for a moment before pulling back.
Her eyes search mine for a moment before she asks, “Why did you do that?”
“Because your first kiss should come from a man who isn’t an ass,” I answer bluntly.
Her lips tip in a mischievous smirk. “You kidnapped me from my wedding and have been holding me hostage ever since.”
“Okay, a man who isn’t a complete ass,” I say, and she laughs.
Then I kiss her again.