Page 7 of Dirty Whispers

She's wildly cute when she blushes. "Yeah. Dinner would be good."

As we drive into town, I ask, "So, I barely got a glimpse, but it didn't look like any kind of crazy party zone in there. Just a lot of books and papers. The three of you really are working this month?"

She rolls her eyes using her whole head. "Griffin. Do you really think I'm going to just let it slip what we're doing?"

"I guess not." I half shrug, leaning back in my seat. It occurs to me that for the first time in years, I'm driving with a lovely young woman in my car on an official date. "But then what am I supposed to tell people when they ask me what my beautiful new lady friend does for a living?"

Harper bursts out laughing as we turn into town. "Why would anyone ask you that?"

"Because it's the kind of question people ask. Like… Where are you from?" I pull into the parking lot beside Jim's and turn the car off, fixing her with a look. "Well?"

"My family moved around a lot when I was growing up. I've lived in Chicago, St. Louis, Charlotte. But I've been living in Kingsville for school."

I open her door, then take her hand as we walk in. "Kingsville's a nice city. I was there once several years ago. But I guess I'm like an oak – planted where the acorn happened to fall."

Jim's daughter Bianca is working tonight and seats us in the round corner booth by the front window. This gives me the opportunity to take Harper's coat and hang it up for her, then slide in close beside her.

She is breathtakingly pretty with the front of her hair tied back to bring maximum attention to her eyes. The soft amber lighting makes her pale skin glow.

As we’re perusing our menus, I notice that Harper's left hand keeps gravitating to her mouth before she pulls it away. After the second time, I ask, "Do you bite your nails when you're nervous? And if so, does that mean I'm making you nervous?"

She releases a long, soft sigh. "It's harder to read in this light and I don't want you to see my glasses."

"What year is this, 1950? I would love to see your glasses. More importantly, I don't want you ever to strain your eyes because of what you worry anyone might think."

She slips a pair of elegant navy-framed glasses from her purse and onto her face, and I nearly forget to breathe.

She reads the menu for a moment, then turns to catch me staring and frowns. "What? Not what you expected?"

Leaning in, I whisper, "Darlin', you're already gorgeous. But those glasses are both adorable and hot."

"Please. You're just saying that to be polite."

My lips rest against her ear. "Not at all. If we weren't in a restaurant, I'd grab your hand right now and place it on my crotch so you could feel how hard I am just from looking at you in those sweet little spectacles."

A soft, broken noise escapes her throat, her lips falling open. I use the opportunity to kiss her hard and fast and deep for just a few seconds before sitting back decisively. "The pizza is amazing here, of course. But if you'd like to split a pasta dish too, I'd be into that."

Harper is flushed and grinning. "Um, I have a bad habit of reading the entire menu before deciding what I'm hungry for. You don't want to choose something, then find out there are three more incredible things."

"Smart. Do your research before beginning the decision-making process."

"Exactly."

We read in comfortable silence, and I sneak a look around the restaurant. There are four other couples here, all married people that I either know, or have seen them around so often that I feel as if I know them.

I hear a sudden sharp intake of breath, then Harper looks down, as if hoping nobody heard her. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

I hold out my hand palm up until she takes it. "Harper, I know you don't know me very well, but I promise you can trust me. Did something on the menu freak you out?"

Her luscious lips press together for a moment. "The typo in the legal print at the bottom. Look."

I follow her fingertip to where it says 'Coffee right 2024. All rights reserved'.

I laugh out loud, but she shushes me. "They must have been using voice to text," she whispers. "I don't want to tell them, because they'll just feel bad."

Most people would laugh uproariously at the funny typo, pointing it out to the server, and having a good chuckle at the restaurant's expense. Meanwhile, Harper doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. My heart swells. She's kind, thinking of others even though she doesn't know them. That's something I'd expect from a born and raised country girl, not someone from the city. It also indicates she's very mature for her age. That somehow makes this connection feel even more solid.

---