Page 48 of Wicked Devotions

Harper and Annabellespent the day shopping while Dad and I played a round of golf with two of his business associates. I play an awful game because all I could think about was how close I came to kissing Harper last night. That brush of our lips was the most tantalizing experience I’ve ever had.

Thinking about her continuing to explore her newfound sexuality with Cyrus doesn’t make me angry, it makes me want to open the door to that for us as well. I trust Cyrus. I know he has a complicated relationship with Emerson, one that involves hookups, but they’ve never pushed each other to talk about it. It’s like it happens and then it’s out of sight, out of mind until it happens again. I do worry that Harper might not be as comfortable with that as they are.

She’s open-minded, especially considering her background, but I don’t know if she’s just going through a rebellious phase where she wants to do all the things she couldn’t before. Or if she really wants to explore her sexuality. I hope it’s the latter and that she’ll be open to me being part of it. I hate to think of how awful it would be to have to watch from the outside looking in.

My jealousy of anyone who has touched or kissed her seems to grow every moment that we’re apart. It comes to a boil when we pull up and see Banks’s obnoxious orange Challenger sitting in front of the house. I wonder if it was his call that interrupted us last night.

Sure enough he’s sitting at the island while Harper kneads a lump of dough across from him. He watches her every move like he’s been starved for her company. Good. Even if he’s not competition for a physical relationship, he’s someone she loves very much.

She’s wearing one of our chef’s aprons over her pink silk skirt and a cream-colored cashmere sweater. Her ever-present ribbon is tied to her hair. It’s absurdly cute.

Annabelle is adding red wine to a pot when she notices us. “Oh, perfect timing. You’ll have just enough time to shower and change for dinner.”

“What are we having? It smells delicious.” Dad walks over to her and gives her a forehead kiss.

Harper sees it happen and smiles softly. I wonder if her mom talked to her about what’s going on between our parents. Either way, it’s nice to see her happy.

“Braised short ribs, mashed potatoes, roastedveggies, and Harper is making her famous dinner rolls.”

“Famous dinner rolls?” I ask with a quirked brow.

“Only at our church,” she replies with an eye roll.

“Harper is a great baker,” Banks says. “I’m surprised she hasn’t baked for you yet. It was one of the first things she did for me when we started dating.”

“Her job isn’t to cook for us.” I glare at him. “It’s to get an education and enjoy life.”

“Never said it was.” He holds his hands up. “She’s just always liked baking as a hobby.”

“She’s taken up running with Cyrus.”

“Running?” Banks looks questioningly at her. “Since when did you start running?”

She shrugs. “I started on the ranch back in Texas. It was an easy thing to do to blow off steam.”

“Guess you don’t know everything there is to know about her.”

She glowers at me. “You better go shower. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I don’t want to leave her alone with him, but the sooner I get cleaned up, the better.

Chapter

Nineteen

HARPER

At the last minute I decide to make some honey butter for the rolls I have in the oven. After I start whipping the butter, I head back to the butler’s pantry to look for honey. It’s well organized so I find what I need right away. The only problem is that I can just barely reach the top shelf. I strain on my tiptoes to reach it, but all I manage to do is push it further back out of reach.

I hear the pocket door slide closed and then feel the heat of another body enveloping me frombehind. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is, his delicious scent tells me. Declan’s hand extends over mine to grasp the honey.

“Is this what you need?”

“Yes.”

“What will you give me for getting it for you?” His other hand grips my hip.

“My gratitude?” I don’t move, too afraid that instead of stepping out of his arms I’d press myself further back against him.

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