Page 61 of One Wrong Move

She giggles and nudges my shoulder with hers. It brings us back into close contact, and damn it, I shouldn’t like that she does that so casually now, so effortlessly, but I do.

I really do.

“That’s different. I always grab an aisle seat and don’t look out the window. When I get a bit anxious, I distract myself. Watch bad movies or read a book.”

“Mm-hmm.” We stop at a red light. Across the intersection is the edge of Hyde Park, and beyond it, Green Park. Wellington Arch towers over everything. Trees, pedestrians, cars. “This is excellent information.”

“Why?” she asks. “And where are we going? Oh, can we go into the park at night?” Then, her excited voice turns suspicious, and she nudges me again. “You’re not trying to murder me or anything, are you?”

“I am, actually, thanks for asking. Any final words?”

“Yes. Um… just give me a few minutes to think about them.”

I nod. “Take your time. I’m not in a rush. Look over there?”

She follows my pointing finger to a building rising in the distance. “We’re close to Buckingham Palace,” she says slowly. “Right?”

“Yes. Thought we’d walk by.”

“I’ve never been here at night before.” Her steps speed up, and I smile at how her curls bounce. Harper smothers a yawn with the back of her hand, but she’s not slowing down. “This is so cool. There are almost no cars out.”

“We should go for walks more often at… three-twenty.”

We make it to the palace and stand outside the wrought iron fence that keeps the public out. The giant, rectangular building dominates the background. The ornate facade is illuminated by soft lighting.

“I only see a few guards patrolling,” she says quietly. “That’s all?”

“I’m willing to bet there are cameras, infrared sensors, and plenty of heavily armed soldiers within those side buildings, ready to pounce if we so much as put our hand through the fence.”

She grins at me. “Wanna try?”

I put my hands on her shoulders and pull her away from the fence. “No, I very much do not. We’re here on visas.”

Harper chuckles. “I thought you were the wild one. I’ve heard stories about you, you know. From college.”

I roll my eyes. “Much exaggerated, no doubt.”

“Really? I seem to remember one about an unplanned road trip in your dad’s Rolls-Royce, where you and Dean wound up in New Mexico, with your wallets stolen, and apparently, with a case of bad?—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—rashes.”

I groan. Run a hand over my face. But I can’t look away from the teasing smile on her lips. “Not my proudest moment. In my defense, I was nineteen.”

“Oh, of course. I also did that when I was nineteen,” she says in a deadpan voice. “What did your dad say? Dean never told that part of the story.”

He’d been furious.

But he’d been furious in a disappointed kind of way. Like he didn’t expect anything else from me, and as if it was all an excuse to get out of the finals.

And then he’d made me buy him a brand new Rolls-Royce with money taken from my trust fund. Which, in hindsight, was absolutely the right call. If someone dented my vintage Aston Martin, I don’t know what I would?—

“Nate,” Harper prompts.

I meet her curious gaze. “He wasn’t particularly pleased with me.”

She smiles. “I imagine not.”

---