Page 135 of Tides That Bind

“How long until you’re done for the night? Let’s grab dinner at the diner.”

Harper raises her eyebrows. “The diner?”

I shrug. “You said you didn’t have time for anything fancy tonight. I’m starving and there’s no food at home. Are you ready to go?”

“I need a few minutes.” She presses up onto her toes, kissing me. “If you help me, it’ll go by faster. Can you put those in the box and bring them back to the new studio space? Whatever isn’t worth saving you can leave. We’ll recycle them.”

Before Harper moves away, I slide my hands from her hips down to her ass hiding beneath her tight, spandex shorts and squeeze it.

“Thanks, Riley.” Harper calls over her shoulder with a smile as she heads for the door.

I chuckle, moving to the table and pulling out the box from beneath it to pack up the candles that still have something left worth burning.

Shutting the box, I lift it and head back out the lobby, down the smooth, concrete floors until I get to the curtained off partition. The new space looks a lot different than the last—and only time—I was here. The floors are no longer dusty. Gone are the folding tables and chairs. Hammocks hang on the hinges that were previously unloaded.

And of course, there’s the hoop.

I press my lips together in a tight line, remembering Harper’s body as she arched and molded herself into a shape I’d say is totally unnatural, but seems totally reasonable for her.

Shaking my head, I eye the closets flanking the wall to my side. The jarred candles rattle inside the box as I balance its weight with one hand so I can open the door, finding mostly vacant shelves. I slide it inside.

I should head back into the main studio and see what else Harper needs help with so we can get out of here. But I don’t.

Physically, I’m here in the studio’s addition, watching ten, light green hammocks drift back and forth from an invisible breeze. I’m looking at the high ceilings, the large windows that have tarp over them.

And then, I’m looking at the hoop.

Mentally, I’m halfway through a daydream…

“Alright, I’m all cleared out. I locked up the front. We’ll goout the back. Are you ready?” Harper pushes through the curtain. “It looks great with everything up now, don’t you think?”

Shelooks great. She already looked great before, when she was just in a sports bra and those damn tight shorts. But now, she’s playing with the zipper ofmyhoodie that hangs open on her, landing mid-thigh. The sight of my sweatshirt on her does something to me it didn’t do the other night, lights this kind of proud, possessive fire in my chest now that all walls have turned into rubble at our feet.

Yeah,I think to myself as I smirk.That’s my girl.

Harper pushes back her long braid that’s fallen in front of her shoulder. The movement makes a few, front locks slip free, covering her face.

I scowl.

“I already locked up out front. We need to go out the”—Harper pauses when I stomp over to her—“what are you…”

I lift the loose braid, slipping off the tie at the end. “Turn around.”

Harper knits her brows together.

“Turn around,please,” I tell her again as I free the tresses from the braid, letting my fingers comb through the silky ends. I look at the hair tie of hers I just removed and hand it back to her. “This goes in the trash.”

“What?” Harper asks. “Why”

I pull off the extra rubber band from my wrist. “There’s something about you that bothers me,” I say, taking a hold of her hair.

“Just one thing? I expected a full list,” Harper teases.

I give her hair a playful tug and she gasps. I collect all of it in my hand, lifting it up and smoothing it back.

“It’s this.”

“My hair?”

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