Page 50 of Tourist Season
When she didn’t reply last night to my text about picking her up, and then never showed to excavate Arthur’s victims, I tried to convince myself that she just needed some space to process our mind-blowingly hot sex from the night before. Well,Ithought it was mind-blowing. The best sex I’ve ever had, and I know it’s not just the mushrooms talking. It just feltrightwith her. Natural. Like our energy fit together, two magnets snapping into place. But maybe she doesn’t feel the same way, and it chews me up. She still didn’t reply this morning. And when I texted her an hour ago, she didn’t reply to that either.
As the minutes have trudged onward, I’ve become increasingly worried about her. She’s usually so responsive. This isn’t like her. It’s bad enough that she might be avoiding me, though I could understand that, given the circumstances. But what if it’s something worse? What if she’s sick? Hurt and alone? She operates in shadowed circles. What if some of those ghosts have caught up with her? What if Arthur has turned on her? What if she’s—
I cut my thoughts off before they can spiral into my darkest fears and march through the gate, not stopping until I’m pounding on her door.
“Harper …” No sound comes from within her cottage. I knock again and press my ear to the door. Still nothing. “Harper.”
I catch a muffled groan that sounds as though it’s coming from the back of the house.
In a heartbeat, I’m striding down the flagstone path that skirts the side of the cottage. I’m nearly at the corner when the front door opens and I halt abruptly at the sound of my name.
“Nolan …?” Harper’s head pokes out the door, her eyes flicking toward the street before landing on me once more. “What are you doing here?”
Relief is a flood that washes through my veins. It’s followed quickly by a wave of embarrassment.
And then, suspicion.
There’s something wild in her eyes. A sharpness in their silver shards. She retreats just a little, backing into her lair like a feral creature. She looks like she’s ready to run. What I wouldn’t give to see a wicked smile flash across her face before she bolts away from me with a challenge to catch her. Maybe she’s wearing those tiny sleep shorts that highlight every curve in her ass and that low-cut tank top that hugs her breasts. The sudden fantasy of chasing her down and fucking her brutally as she screams my name goes straight to my cock.
I clear my throat in the hopes that it might somehow clear my mind too as I walk closer to the door, my steps careful and cautious.
“I was …” What do I say?I was obsessively worrying about you until I finally decided to trespass on your property, which I’ve already done several times, though you don’t know that…?Fuck, that sounds awful. “I was at the river last night. Alone, despite the fact I don’t know where to dig. Figured I should stop by to make sure you were coming this evening, seeing as how we’ve got a strict schedule to adhere to.”
“I’ll be there.”
Her assurance is delivered with no biting edge, no roll of her eyes. Andthat’swhat worries me the most. She retreats farther as I near the door, shielding her body behind the slab of wood so that only her face is visible in the narrow crack of light.
What if she’s naked?
What if she’s naked andnot alone?
Jealousy explodes through every cell in my body, incinerating my earlier fantasies into bitter ash.
I do my best to convince myself that whatever she’s hiding is none of my business. That the only reason I care about her well-being is because it has the potential to affect me too. As soon as I’m sure she’s all right, I promise myself to go back to the inn and leave her the fuck alone. “Everything okay?” I manage, my words slow and measured.
“Yep.” She nods emphatically. “Great.”
“Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because you hate me and you want to kill me?”
Touché. “Not … right now.”
“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
I lay my palm on the door and her eyes dart to it before landing back on me with enough fury to set my skin on fire. When I put just a little pressure on the wood, she pushes back. “Why are you being so weird?”
She snorts a sardonic laugh. “You’re the one who’s pushing on my door like the fucking psychopathic serial killer that you are. I have your precious book, don’t forget. If you think you’re going to stop by to kill me, think again.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I say, my heart scraping my ribs on its way to my guts as her glare intensifies beneath the dark bangs that frame her eyes. I’ve been unraveling my grip on the idea of vengeance, one talon at a time. But it’s obvious Harper would never believe that. And it’s going to be fucking difficult to convince her. Maybe even impossible. She might need my help sobadly that she’s willing to go out into the night and dig up bodies with me. But despite what she said when I fucked her, she doesn’t truly trust me.
And in this moment, as I’m standing as an uninvited guest at the doorstep of her home, caught in the corrosive power of her mercury stare, a realization hits me so hard it steals the air from my chest. That as much as I’ve wanted justice for Billy’s murder and the injuries that will haunt me forever, the need for retribution has kept me trapped in the past. If I’d come here wanting to meet Harper and, unfathomably, forgive her, a whole different life might have risen around me. But I’ve been so focused on our history that I might have destroyed the seeds of our future before they even had a chance to grow.
My hand slips from the door, landing back at my side. A thick swallow grinds down my dry throat. “I’m sorry, Harper,” I say, and her brow furrows with wary surprise. “I shouldn’t have—”
