Page 126 of Redeeming Harmony

Warren stood near the bookshelf, holding a couple of books with an open box at his feet. He took one look at her face and said, “Tell me what’s wrong, poppet.”

She opened her mouth to say nothing was wrong and started crying instead. And not delicate, dainty tears, but loud braying sobs that shook her body and made Winston leave the room with his ears flattened to his head.

Her father hurried over, and she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his throat and crying so hard his collar was soaked in only a few seconds. He patted her back and rocked her back and forth. After a few minutes, she got a hold of herself and stepped back, scrubbing at her face with her palms. Warren handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, poppet, dry your face and blow your nose.”

She blew her nose and wiped her face before following him to the couch and sinking into it. Warren squeezed her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just a bad day,” she said with a hiccupping sob. “Nothing specific is wrong.”

“I’m your dad. You can’t fool me with that nothing specific nonsense,” Warren said. “You’ve been avoiding me since Wednesday night, and you just tried to sneak past me like you were sixteen and late for curfew.”

“I was friends with someone, and now I’m not, and I miss them.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped at them savagely. She’d cried so much in the last forty-eight hours it was a wonder she didn’t need an IV line for dehydration.

“Nathan,” Warren said.

Her body jerked so hard that Winston, who’d rejoined them to lean against her legs, made a startledwoof.

“Why do you say that?” she asked. “I’m not, I mean, I was never friends with Nathan.

Warren snagged his beer from the coffee table and took a drink. “Poppet, your old man is neither stupid nor blind. The two of you were more than friends and have been for some time. And even if I had somehow missed the way you and Nathan looked at each other, was a year away from home long enough to make you forget how effective the gossip train runs in the Falls?”

She stared silently at him, and he said, “Nathan’s been miserable at work for the last two days. Did you fight?”

“Sort of, but not really.” She picked at the edge of the handkerchief, embarrassed to tell her father that they’d never actually been dating. But he was waiting for an explanation, and she couldn’t lie to him. “We were more than friends, but we were never actually dating. We were just…”

Oh God, she couldn’t say it, not to her dad.

“Having casual sex?” Warren said.

“Dad!” Her face gave the sun a run for its money in the heat department.

Warren laughed. “You think I don’t know what a friends with benefits relationship is?”

“Oh my God,” she said. “I want to die. I can’t discuss my sex life with you, Dad. Don’t ask me to do that.”

Warren laughed again. “Poppet, I want to know about your sex life even less than you want to tell me about it. But I am curious as to why you two weren’t dating. You like him, and I know damn well he likes you. He can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the room.”

When she didn’t reply, Warren said, “Oh shit, it’s not because of me and the clinic, is it?”

“No,” she said. “I mean, at first, it was partially the clinic. It wasn’t doing well, and Nathan needed to focus on fixing the whole Dr. Death thing. And, okay, yeah, there was a big part of him that didn’t want to piss you off or have you leave the clinic because he respects you a lot, Dad. He wants you to be proud of him and not regret selling the clinic to him.”

“I wouldn’t,” Warren said. “Nathan is a damn good vet, and up until he broke my baby girl’s heart, I had no beef with him personally either.”

“I broke his heart first,” Harper said as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m the bad guy, Dad.”

Warren squeezed her hand again. “Tell me why you think that.”

“Because it’s true. Nathan wanted more. He wanted to date, and I said no.”

“Why?” Warren asked.

“Because my… my life is a mess, and I’m not good enough for him,” she said.

The lines on Warren’s forehead deepened into a scowl. “Now I know that’s not true.”

“It is,” she insisted. “I’m too much like…”

“Too much like who?” Warren asked, even though Harper was certain he already knew.

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