Chapter 19 #2
The lobby was quiet, with only a young couple checking out and a staff member polishing the wooden coffee table. I nodded at the familiar face as I passed, making my way toward the hall where Harper’s office was located.
Her door stood partially open, a strip of warm light spilling into the hallway.
I paused just outside, hearing the soft click of her keyboard as she worked.
Normally, I’d knock, crack a joke, watch her face light up with that smile that had become increasingly important to me.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside without announcement, deliberately closing it behind me.
The soft click of the latch engaging felt significant, creating a private space for whatever conversation would follow.
Harper glanced up, my sudden entrance startling her. Her expression shifted quickly from surprise to wariness, her posture stiffening as she registered both my presence and my disheveled appearance.
“Chase,” she said in a carefully neutral tone.
I crossed the room in a few strides and stopped in front of her desk, not bothering with small talk. “Harper, about yesterday. I want to apologize again. Properly.”
She turned away from her keyboard to give me her full attention. The careful blankness of her expression made my chest tighten as she folded her hands on her scribbled desk calendar.
“I look like I crawled out from under a construction site because I basically did,” I continued, resisting the urge to fidget. “The Franson project inspection failed catastrophically yesterday afternoon.”
Her expression softened somewhat, concern replacing some of the guardedness. “That sounds tough.”
“This wasn’t just some minor setback,” I explained, leaning forward with my palms on her desk.
“William Franson is connected to half the high-end property developers in South Florida. If word got out that Latitudes Design couldn’t handle a fairly simple guest suite addition…
” I shook my head. “It wasn’t a choice between clients.
It was a potential catastrophe for my company.
If I didn’t fix it immediately, the penalties and the damage to my reputation could have sunk me before I even got started. ”
I straightened up and met her eyes directly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I bailed on you. On Finn. Hearing how… polite you were on the phone yesterday? That told me just how pissed off you really were.”
The professional mask she wore cracked slightly, a glimmer of hurt crossing her features before she could suppress it. “Finn asked about you,” she said quietly. “Multiple times.”
The words landed like a physical blow. I closed my eyes briefly, the image of his disappointment making me feel even worse.
“I told him sometimes grown-ups have to work unexpectedly,” she continued. “He understands that concept pretty well, living at a resort.”
“Still. I should have—”
“What, Chase?” For the first time, a hint of frustration colored her voice. “Abandoned your client during a crisis? Let your business suffer? That’s not realistic.”
I paced a few steps, the restless energy of exhaustion and emotion making it impossible to stand still. “Honestly? Trying to manage that Franson mess last night, knowing I’d blown off our meeting and dinner… it sucked.”
I gestured vaguely around the room, trying to articulate feelings I was still processing myself.
“This whole thing—launching the firm, the massive scope of the resort project, trying to figure out us…” I motioned between Harper and me, the unspoken complexity of our relationship hanging in the air. “It’s a lot, okay?”
“I know it is.” She rose to her feet, watching me with unreadable eyes.
Moving to the window, I stared out at the manicured resort grounds without really seeing them.
“Some moments, like yesterday, feel like I’m juggling knives, like I’m spread so thin I’m going to drop everything.
I’m terrified of failing, Harper.” The confession emerged almost against my will.
“Failing with Latitudes, failing this renovation… failing you.”
When I turned back to her, the professional mask had disappeared. Harper’s expression had softened into something more vulnerable, her eyes fixed on me. “I get it, better than most people would. Running a business while trying to maintain a personal life isn’t easy. Especially with a new venture.”
I nodded, relief washing through me at her understanding.
“But…” She hesitated, her fingers tracing a pattern on her desk calendar.
Then her eyes met mine, direct and honest. “When you feel like you’re failing or like it’s too much…
Is this”—she gestured between us—“part of the problem? Are we making it harder?” She paused, shoulders tensing. “Do you need to take a step back?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. My immediate instinct was to deny it, to reassure her without hesitation.
But something stopped me, perhaps the bone-deep exhaustion or the memory of my conflicted feelings last night.
For a second, I considered it. Would halting this passionate but increasingly complicated relationship make things simpler?
Would it allow me to focus on the business without the added emotional investment?
It was only a moment of consideration, barely a heartbeat, but Harper saw it. Her face registered the hesitation, her eyes filling with hurt before her expression composed itself again.
“No.” The word came out firmly from my mouth, leaving no room for doubt.
I crossed back to her desk in two quick strides.
“Absolutely not. Taking a step back from you is the last thing I want, Harper. Our relationship isn’t the complication making things harder.
It’s the reason the hard stuff feels worth tackling. ”
She watched me, measuring my sincerity against the hesitation she’d witnessed.
“But finding the balance between everything…” I continued. “I’m still figuring that out, and I’ll get better at juggling. But, baby, I need a little help here too. I’m in a field where shit goes sideways on a regular basis. We need to find a way to deal with that. And we will.”
The tension in her shoulders eased a touch, and a small smile—the first since I’d entered her office—curved her lips. “I knew even last night I wasn’t being fair to you. I was disappointed, sure, but I’ve seen enough construction to know how these things go. I shouldn’t have gone cold on you.”
“You’re allowed to be disappointed,” I countered.
“Maybe.” She rose from her chair and rounded the desk, closing the distance between us.
“But I also know what it’s like to have a million responsibilities pulling you in different directions.
I deal with that every day between Finn, my family, and this place.
I was hardly acting like a supportive partner last night. So, I’m sorry too.”
Up close, I could see the shadows under her eyes, carefully concealed with makeup. Had she slept poorly too? The thought both comforted and troubled me.
“Finn still wants you to help him with his LEGO spaceship,” she said, more upbeat now. “He’s very proud of it. Says it’s an architectural masterpiece that you’ll appreciate.”
I laughed, genuine warmth replacing some of the tension in my chest. “A budding designer, huh? I’d love to see it.”
“Maybe dinner tomorrow? If your crisis is resolved by then?”
“I’ll make it work,” I promised, then winced. “That sounded like—”
“Like something I’d say when I’m overcommitting?” Harper raised an eyebrow, a hint of her usual playfulness returning. “Welcome to my world.”
We both laughed, the sound breaking the last of the heavy atmosphere.
I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry about yesterday.”
“I know. So am I, and I’m glad we cleared the air. And for what it’s worth, I believe you when you say you don’t want to step back.”
Her belief settled something vital inside me, a shaky foundation finding solid ground.
But the tightness in her posture still told me she’d seen that moment of hesitation, that fleeting consideration of an easier path.
I’d offered reassurance, and she’d accepted it, but I knew the memory of my uncertainty lingered between us.
I needed to show her, not just tell her.
I stepped closer, releasing her hand only to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing softly against her skin.
“Good,” I murmured. “Because stepping back isn’t an option.”
I leaned down, intending a simple, sealing kiss.
But the moment her yielding lips met mine, something sparked—a release of the tension we’d both been holding, a flare of the connection we’d almost let slip.
Her hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer as if she needed the physical proof that I wasn’t pulling away.
The kiss deepened instantly, moving from tender reassurance to something raw and demanding.
I groaned against her mouth, backing her gently against the edge of her sturdy desk.
My hands slid down her back, learning the curve of her waist again, pulling her hips flush against mine.
The friction ignited a fire low in my abdomen.
I was hard in an instant, pressing against her, needing her to feel the undeniable truth of how much I wanted this, wanted her.
Harper let out a low, wrenching moan against my lips as I ground against her, a sound of pure need.
Her fingers gripped my hair, holding me fast as the kiss plunged deeper, tongues tangling, panting breath mingling.
The deadlines and disasters receded into a dull roar behind the rush of blood in my ears.
We were lost in it, the raw urgency overriding doubt, reclaiming the space between us with desperate intensity.
An insistent text tone against my thigh shattered the moment. We wrenched apart, breathing heavily, eyes wide.
I cursed under my breath, fumbling for my phone as Harper smoothed down her shirt, color high on her cheeks, her lips swollen and kiss-bruised.
I scrubbed a hand over my face as I glanced at the caller ID. Marcus. The Franson job. Reality slammed back in. “Shit. I’ve got to go.”
Harper let out a shaky laugh, glancing pointedly at the desk we were pressed against, then back at me. “Well, at least your phone saved us from another potential desk escapade. My back barely survived the last one.”
A wry grin touched my lips despite the interruption. “My desk misses you. At least we’re not in a closet this time.” The reality of the call pulled me back.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Harper’s voice had regained its steadiness, though her eyes still held the echo of our interrupted passion.
I pocketed my phone again and stroked a hand down her arm. “I can get tunnel vision when I’m knee deep in a project. It’s maybe not my most attractive quality… but it’s part of what makes me good at what I do.”
Her smile steadied. “And I can get a little impatient when I’m overwhelmed. We both have our less attractive sides. And you’re very good at what you do. I see the evidence of that every day. And night.”
I barked a laugh, more relieved now. “We’re good together.”
“Yes, we are.” She gave me a brisk pat on my chest before releasing me. “Go handle what you need to handle.”
The echo of her words from yesterday wasn’t lost on me, but this time they carried a different tone—supportive, with maybe a touch of shared exasperation at the timing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised as I stepped forward. “Six?”
She nodded, but that gleam stayed in her eye. “Don’t be late—Finn gets cranky if he has to wait too long for dinner.”
“I’ll be there,” I said with conviction and leaned down to give her a quick but thorough kiss. “Even if I have to walk away from a burning building.”
Her laugh followed me into the hallway, a warm sound that eased some of the lingering tension in my lower back.
We’d found our way back to solid ground, or at least the appearance of it.
But as I returned Marcus’s call, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us—a new awareness of just how complicated the path forward might be.
Had that kiss been me trying to convince her or myself?
The immediate crisis had passed, vulnerability offered, accepted, and sealed with fire. Yet Harper had seen my doubt, and I knew that kiss, however powerful, couldn’t erase it completely. The fragility of what we were building remained, requiring more than just passion to sustain it.
As I strode through the lobby toward the resort entrance, one thought crystallized with absolute clarity—I didn’t want to back away from Harper Coleridge.
That kiss proved it more than any apology could.
But wanting something and managing to keep it were two very different challenges, and I’d never been good at failing gracefully.