Page 82 of Deathmarch
Harper wiped his fingers, then reached over to take her hand. “Forget about the idiot. You can live your life anyway you want.”
He said the words with so much certainty, she actually believed him.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”She pulled her hand away. She didn’t know what to do with the tingles that kept running up her arm for as long as Harper was touching her. “Do you have a girlfriend? I guess just because you live alone, it doesn’t mean—”
“No.”
She needed to examine why that filled her with relief. Later. “Ever been serious with anyone?”
“There was someone at the police academy, but it didn’t work out. We wanted different things. She wanted to be a city cop, work big cases, drugs, organized crime, then end up at the FBI. Guess I’m not that ambitious. I just want to protect the people I love and grew up with. I didn’t want to move to Philly.” He shrugged. “Not sure it would have worked anyway. I was pretty immature.”
“And now you’re all mature?”
“Practically God’s gift to women.” He pondered that for a second. “All right, maybe not God’s. Maybe a minor saint’s?” He punctured the air with his last barbeque rib when he thought of the right one. “St. Jude.”
“Patron saint of lost causes?”
He grinned.
She grinned back.
For a few seconds, they ate in companionable silence. Then he said, “You know, I had it all planned out. Back when I was a know-it-all nineteen-year-old, sure as shit that I had my act together. I was going to run away with you.”
She stared at him. When she spoke, the words came out breathless. “But I ran away first.”
He drank up his water. “Timing was not on our side.”
The understatement of the century.
“We both needed to grow up,” she said after a moment.
“Me more than you, but I won’t disagree in principle.” He watched her. “And now?”
“I’m leaving as soon as my foot heals enough to drive long stretches. Another day or two?”
“Bad idea to drive on an injured foot. You’d want to be healed all the way. In an emergency, being able to slam your foot on the brake fast enough, hard enough, might make all the difference. You should wait a week, then see a doctor for a checkup, make sure you’re cleared.”
She couldn’t afford to sit out a whole week.
“You don’t get a vote,” she snapped.
He watched her. “Have you noticed that ever since you came back, we’re always fighting? We never used to fight.”
“Because I had a planet-sized crush on you, and I just followed you around like a puppy dog and said yes to everything you cooked up.”
“Fond memories.”
“Now I’m an independent woman who takes shit from no one.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Or maybe you’re always disagreeing with me because it’s your way of fighting your attraction for me.”
“How does your head not explode? It’s a medical mystery. Maybeyoushould see a doctor.”
Instead of a retort, he rose and walked around the table. When she turned toward him, he dropped to his knees in front of her and brushed the hair out of her face. “You know, my head does have something wrong with it lately. I’m constantly fighting to push you out of my mind. It takes a lot of energy.” Then he added, “I wish you would stay.”
And then he leaned forward.
He was going to kiss her. The thought speared through her stunned mind as he closed the distance between them and brushed his warm lips over hers.
