Page 49 of Headed for Home

A snort rips from me just imagining her little girl’s reaction. “That would be an awkward conversation.”

“One more for the list,” she muses.

I nod and take a long sip of my pineapple mimosa. A silence creeps in. That lull oozes and festers like a scab that hasn’t fully healed. The tension swirls until I can choke on the fumes.

Harper’s keen awareness shifts from me to the man hovering at my side. “Are you two okay?”

“Yep,” I say at the same time Drake provides his own answer.

“I fucked up,” he admits.

She purses her lips. “Why am I not surprised?”

A sheepish grin matches his downcast gaze that looks far too innocent. “I got into bed with her enemy. It was supposed to be heroic, but I didn’t consider the consequences. Botched banger.”

Harper’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “Ummm…”

All I can do is laugh. “That sounds much worse than it is.”

“Uh-huh,” she drones. “This one”—her thumb hitches at Drake—“has a tendency to exaggerate.”

He shrugs. “I prefer the term overindulge. Enthusiastic. Dedicated. Vigilant. Committed.”

“Don’t know when to quit,” she adds.

“Exactly.” His blue eyes sparkle in that hypnotic sense. “What did you expect after I got reunited with the woman I’m going to marry?”

A wheeze lodges in my throat and I almost cough up a lung. This doesn’t ease my rattled thoughts. Unintelligible nonsense sputters from me in response.

Meanwhile, Harper appears positively giddy as her grin stretches to hit a world record. She cups one side of her mouth and leans toward me. “He’s a really great guy.”

“I know,” I whisper just as loudly in return.

She smiles. “Are you gonna keep him around?”

Woodsy spiced cologne and undeniable temptation blow on the breeze. My scattered wits collect themselves, allowing me to picture us years down the road. “I’d bet on the odds.”

“Yes, cowgirl. Giddy up!” Harper stills. “Did you get him on a horse yet?”

“Nope, but his butt will be in the saddle soon.” More stress seeps from me at that visual.

“Whatever she wants. I’ll step up to the plate.” Drake pretends to swing a bat.

“Wrong sport,” I laugh.

“Similar mechanics.”

“Not even close.”

“My athletic abilities spread beyond the pitcher’s mound.” He winks.

“You’ll see once certain muscles are stiff and you can barely walk.” I mimic the sore, bow-legged motions.

“Damn, beauty. At least buy me a drink first.”

“I’ll make your refill a double.” The alcohol table was properly stocked by a bartender after all.

“Welp, you don’t need me to loiter on the romance. This has been a blast. Cheers, lovebirds.” Harper begins backing away while glancing at her phone. “And on that note, there’s a Ridge and Callie sighting. That’s my cue. Stay sharp!”

---