Chapter 7
Ford
Watching Harper rush over to take a shot for Gina confirms my suspicions.
The town’s whispers echo in my mind, but no one seems to notice, especially when Harper mentions Asher before snatching the shot glass from her sister.
I can’t wrap my head around Gina hastily planning a wedding just because she’s pregnant.
Lance and Gina have never been the conventional couple.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Asher barks, stomping toward me as I lean against the wall.
I’m in the perfect spot to watch Harper while staying out of the way. “Um, considering getting a drink from the bar.”
“No, what do you think you’re doing with Harper?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, though I know exactly what he means.
I’m trying to make a move. Being with Harper has been my dream since I was fifteen.
“Harper’s not the type to give anyone pity sex. Trust me, she didn’t give it to me when we were together, even though she’s madly in love with me.”
I snort. “I think that says more about you than it does her, bud.”
“Best friends don’t try to hook up with exes.”
This makes me laugh. Now I understand why Harper was giggling with Asher at the bar before I whisked her away to the dance floor. He’s a funny guy.
“Why is that so funny?” His voice rises with his anger, drawing the attention of everyone nearby, especially Kenzie.
“I guess that kind of fits for Kenzie, huh? You weren’t actually Harper’s ex when she got you into bed, so you weren’t an ex at the time—just engaged to her best friend.”
“That has nothing to do with anything.”
“I won’t let you continue to humiliate Harper. You stole her money, her wedding venue, probably all her wedding plans too, because Kenzie wants so desperately to be your ex. You see that, right? You’re settling for a lesser version of what you tossed away.”
Kenzie walks up, wrapping her arm around Asher’s. “Don’t let him make a fool out of you, baby.”
“No, he has you for that, doesn’t he?”
“Don’t talk to her that way,” Asher growls.
I just laugh. “You can’t argue with what I said, and we both know it. At least I know you’re not lying to yourself.”
“You actually think you have a chance with Harper now? Now that I’m out of the picture, you want to try for my sloppy seconds? That’s flattering and pathetic.”
“He’s always been jealous of you, baby. He wants to be everything you are,” Kenzie says.
Laughing again, I shake my head. Sure, I’ve envied that he had Harper, but that’s it. There’s nothing else I’ve ever felt envious about when it comes to Asher. “Yeah, okay.”
“Good luck with her,” Asher says. “But the truth is, she’ll never go for a guy like you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Kenzie flips her hair over her shoulder, and I can’t believe she dyed it blonde like Harper’s. It looks terrible on her, but if she wants to steal Asher, she had to do something drastic. If only she’d chosen better… like a boob job.
“It means you’re nothing,” Kenzie says. “The only reason Asher’s been friends with you this long is that he’s never seen you as competition. For anything.”
“And you still aren’t,” Asher adds.
“You might want to rethink that frame of thought, bud,” I say, glaring at him.
He licks his lips, smirks, and shrugs. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we? Let’s go, babe.”
All I want to do is punch him, but I won’t. Not only would it look bad to hit the ex of the woman I’m madly in love with, but I would never do that to her sister. Still, the thought lingers in my mind for days.
Harper stumbles toward me, nearly falling. I catch her just in time, thrilled to feel her warmth against me. “Whoa, don’t hurt yourself now.”
“Any chance… you could give me a ride home?” Harper slurs slightly.
“Are you okay?”
She swallows hard, leaning more heavily against me. “I’m drunker than I’ve been since my twenty-first birthday. Why Gina’s friends think they should do shots at their age, I have no idea. I can’t hang anymore.”
“Could you ever?” I ask, laughing.
Harper has never been able to hold her liquor.
I remember the first time we drank together at the gazebo when we were seventeen.
She took three shots of tequila and ended up throwing up in the bushes.
On her twenty-first birthday, she nearly peed her pants in the bathroom because “taking them off was too much work.”
“No, not really,” she giggles.
Yes, she needs water and sleep. I guide her outside and help her into my pickup. “What’s Gina going to do now that you’re gone?”
“Her friends are drunk enough that they won’t notice she isn’t tossing them back. And if they do, Lance will have to help her. Any more alcohol, and I’ll need my stomach pumped.”
As I buckle her in, I linger just a moment longer at her waist before walking to the driver’s side. I climb in, relieved to let her lean over and rest her head on my shoulder.
“I’ll go back after I drop you off to get your equipment,” I promise.
“So nice,” she mumbles. “And such big hands.”
“Hands?”
She giggles and reaches for mine, her fingers small and delicate against my own. A shiver runs through me as she intertwines our fingers. “You know what they say about big hands.”
“Long fingers?”
“Well, long finger,” she clarifies. “Not plural.”
Is she implying what I think she is? “Is that right? Are you asking to see?”
Her tongue glides over her lips. “Gina and Mom think I should accept if you offer me pity sex.”
“Pity sex?”
“I haven’t gotten laid in over a year. And Gina says you could handle some jumping because you have big hands.”
I’m taken aback. She hasn’t had sex in over a year? And her sister and mom want her to sleep with me based on the size of my hands? Not the worst conversation they could have had.
“Trust me, there would be nothing remotely described as pity if I took you to bed, Harper,” I reply, awkwardly shifting the pickup into park with my left hand since she still holds my right.
“You’ve been my white knight tonight.”
“And you’ve been your sister’s. Gina’s knocked up, huh?”
Her eyes widen, and she pulls her hand away as she turns to face me. The seatbelt catches her, but she rests her hand on her forehead. “Who told you?”
“You both did when you started taking shots for her.”
“You can’t tell anyone. No one else knows.”
“Who am I going to tell?” Seriously, I’m the best person to confide in. I don’t gossip. I barely talk unless necessary.
“That’s true. That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Ford. You’re not into the gossip scene.”
I get out and move to the passenger side. I unbuckle her seatbelt, trying to help her stand, but her legs wobble beneath her, so I scoop her up instead.
“Which is the opposite of me. I can’t seem to escape the gossip mill,” Harper continues, oblivious to the fact that I’m carrying her like a bride into her house.
At least she’s coherent enough to direct me toward her bedroom. I set her gently on the bed and help remove her boots, savoring the feel of her calf in my hand.
“You’re so handsome,” she murmurs, her eyelids fluttering. “I like the beard, but I was kind of sad when I saw it.”
I lean closer, bracing myself on either side of her hips. “Why’s that?”
Her fingers glide along my jawline. “Because you have a sexy jawline. One guys would kill for. But you’re hiding it with a beard. Though the beard looks rugged and sexy, too.”
“So, would you prefer I shave it or keep it?”
“I like both. Maybe you should shave half your face and leave the other half bearded.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That would look ridiculous.”
“You could pull off anything. You grew up good, Crawford Stokes.”
“You, too, Harper Wallace.”
Standing up, I know she’ll regret this night in the morning, so I head to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water and search the bathroom for aspirin. She’ll need both.
“Do you need anything else before I get your equipment?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing down at her beautiful face.
The dress she wore—a navy blue wrap with tiny white flowers—hugs her curves in all the right places while still allowing her to move freely as she photographs events. The neckline dips just enough to be alluring without revealing too much, and the hem swishes around her knees when she walks.
Honestly, she could make a paper bag look amazing with those blue eyes and that smile, and I wish she weren’t so drunk right now so I could tell her exactly how beautiful she looks tonight.
“No, you’ve given me more than I could ask for.”
Sitting up, Harper leans in. She’s going for my cheek, but I turn my face just enough. Her lips brush mine, warm and soft. We both freeze. Her breath catches. My pulse hammers in my ears. One second. Two. Neither of us pulls away.
She presses forward again, this time with purpose. Her fingers find my collar, gripping tight. The sharp bite of tequila lingers on her tongue as it meets mine. My hands shake slightly as they find her waist.
My chest tightens with a feeling I’ve carried since high school.
Since that night at the gazebo when I held her hair back instead of making a move.
Her lips fit against mine like they were made to be there, and I memorize every detail: the small sigh in her throat, the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, the faint scent of her floral perfume mixing with alcohol.
Suddenly, she pulls away. Her eyes go wide, hand flying to her mouth. Before I can ask what’s wrong, she’s stumbling across the room, bare feet slapping against the hardwood, and the bathroom door bangs against the wall.
I find her curled around the toilet, knuckles white against porcelain.
The harsh fluorescent light catches the sheen of sweat on her forehead as she heaves.
Without a word, I gather her hair in one hand, my other hand making slow circles between her shoulder blades.
Her body trembles beneath my palm with each retch.
The faint scent of tequila fills the small space.
As I hold her steady, I notice the small birthmark behind her ear I’ve never seen before. A tiny crescent moon hidden beneath her hair.
“No, go,” she murmurs, weakly pushing against me. “I don’t want you to see this.”
“Too late, babe,” I chuckle softly.
“Please,” she pleads, looking up at me with wide eyes.
I nod, sighing. “Okay.”
I step outside and close the door. “Thank you, Ford,” she calls out before vomiting again.
Resting my head against the door, I want to rush in and help her, to be there when she wakes up, but I know that’s not what she wants.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, Harper,” I whisper before pushing away from the door.
Even if I wanted to stay, I have to leave. I can’t leave her equipment at the Moose Lodge. It’s probably safe, but I’m not taking any chances. It’s her livelihood.
Maybe it’ll mean something to her if she doesn’t remember the kiss. I wouldn’t mind another first kiss with Harper Wallace.