Page 8 of Dirty Whispers

"That's sweet of you." I squeeze her hand gently. "Hey… Do you care that I'm thirty?"

"No, should I?" Her beautiful eyes are wide as she thinks about that. "I mean, I'm only twenty-one, but it's not that crazy an age difference, I don't think."

"Good." I hesitate. "Like I said, I'm one of those people who are stuck in one place. I mean, I've traveled a little – California, Florida, New Mexico…"

Harper grins. "All nice, warm places. Makes sense."

"Yeah. But because the family business and my brothers are here, I've never thought of leaving." My thumb caresses her hand. "And you're only here for a month."

"Maybe two."

"What's your living situation like in Kingsville?" I ask.

Her face scrunches up as if she's just smelled something terrible. "Right now, I have a horrid little apartment over a nail salon. I can smell the fumes all the time. And the one window faces north, so I don't have good natural light for reading."

"Ugh. You have to get out of there."

"Exactly. But I don't want a roommate, and it's really expensive alone." Her eyes light up. "Everything changes this Monday, though. There's an amazing place that's a bit bigger and has a huge south facing window. It's a bit cheaper than the place I'm in now, and the landlady wants to rent it to a young female academic."

My blood starts to run cold.

"She won't take any calls about it until Monday morning, since she's on vacation. But I happen to know her receptionist. If I call and am prepared to sign a three-year lease, the place is mine."

The cracking of the ice in my veins is distracting. Of course I want Harper to have fresh air, daylight, and a home she loves. But she could have all of that and more if she decided to stay in Old Hemlock Valley.

Her brows tighten as she frowns, as if catching my discomfort. "I mean, Kingsville isn't that far. It's only–"

"A seven-hour drive," I say quickly. "I…might have looked that up."

Her lovely deep blue eyes grow wide. "Really? Why?"

Fighting the urge to kiss her right here in the restaurant is a challenging exercise in self-control. "I don't ever start something if I'm not sure I can do my part to finish it." Looking down at our entwined fingers, it strikes me how her delicate hand is so light compared to my rough, work-worn skin. "I know that no nice, smart girl would ever dream of ending up with a tow truck guy." I change my voice to make an awful attempt at a snobby upper crust accent. "Forgive me, automotive technician."

Harper laughs, then leans in close. "I'll tell you a secret."

"Like…what kind of work you do?"

"No." I love that she picks up our hands and smacks me lightly with my own fingers. "That I've never imagined any future guy. So, you know. My mind is a blank slate there."

"But smart chicks dream of being married to doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs. Movers and shakers, or whatever."

Her chin lifts until she's looking down her nose at me. "Are you telling me that I've been dreaming wrong, sir?"

"Uh…apparently, yeah."

I adore how easily we laugh together. How her eyes soften when she looks at me. How our bodies are drifting together of their own accord, like the way the entire length of our thighs are touching, and I can't seem to stop whispering in her cute little ear.

I've never hung on anyone's every word like this.

I'm officially infatuated.

Now I just need to get Harper to relax a little bit and learn to trust me enough to not make that call about the apartment next week.

5

HARPER

Griffin was right – the pizza at Jim's is astounding. He was also right about ordering some pasta to go with it. Not just because it was positively delicious, but also because the act of sharing food with him felt really sweet. He was extremely concerned that we got precisely equal amounts, even though I told him that I'm a lot smaller than he is and don't need as much fuel.

---