Page 64 of Waiting Forever
“Nathan?” Harper’s voice sounds. She knocks again. “I know you’re in there. I can see you.”
Aw, shit. I glance at the dark hallway that leads to Kensi’s room, hoping she stays put, and then unlock the set of doors closest to me.
The sound of crickets and toads greet me when I step outside.
I turn to Harper, keeping a good five feet or more between us. “How did you get back here?”
A fence lines the property with locked gates on either side of the house. The only other way into the backyard is through the conservation by the lake. She wouldn’t dare venture into those marshy woods to get here.
She holds up a silver key. “I remembered where you hid this from when we got locked out that once.”
I narrow my gaze. “That once?”
“Oh, come on. You have to remember. It was only four months ago. We were having drinks at The Wine Room with Marcus and Brandi. You thought you forgot your key to the front door and dragged me to the side of the house where you kept a spare hidden. But this little thing”—she wiggles the key—“only unlocks the gate. We decided to have sex in the pool and sleep under the stars, but when you took off your pants the front door key fell out. Guess you had it all along.” She inches toward me. “Unless you knew that, but you thought it’d be more fun to lie so you could fuck me in the pool.” She gazes at the water. The surface ripples slightly with the breeze. “You remember now, don’t you, Nathan?”
I scratch my head. “Vaguely. I had a lot to drink that night, but I know for a fact I wasn’t lying about the front door key. I thought I didn’t have it.”
Besides, even if Harper wasn’t my girlfriend at the time, which she was, I had no reason to lie to get into her pants. From the first time I met her, she told me she was a sure thing and then proved it.
Using keys, however, was new to me back then. When Sebastian lived here, we used apps on our phones to unlock the house and set the security system. After he was gone, and the threat of his family along with him, I didn’t see the need to set the alarm anymore.
Despite her vivid memory of that night, especially considering I’d thought she was as drunk as I was, it doesn’t explain why she’s in my backyard. “Why did you come back here instead of knocking on the front door?”
She crosses her arms defensively. “I did knock.”
“When?” Now, or is she referring to earlier?
“Before.” She looks away. “I knockedandrang the doorbell. You never answered.”
Suspicion enters my mind. “Did you leave and comeback, or have you been here waiting this whole time?”
She raises her chin, but she still can’t meet my gaze.
It’s all the answer I need. She’s been here snooping, trying to catch sight of me or catch me in the act. I hold out my hand. “Give me the key, Harper.”
She curls her fingers around it, hesitating before dropping it onto my palm.
I slip it in my pocket and notice my fly is down. Shit.I tug up the zipper and button the waist.
Her gray eyes study my appearance. “No shirt, bare feet, unzipped jeans, and just-fucked hair. Guess I know why you didn’t answer the door.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glance through the French doors into the house. The lights are on, with a clear view to the kitchen and great room. By the time Harper could have made it to the backyard, Kensi and I were in her bedroom. The gate on that side of the house is inaccessible. No hidden key, and the private garden to Kensi’s bedroom is surrounded by a high wall. She couldn’t have seen us together.
“Why didn’t you answer the door?” Harper scowls.
“I was sleeping.” I keep my tone casual.
She sniffs my chest. “You smell like sweat and sex. Want to tell me who you’re banging?”
I tense for a moment and then step back with a dry laugh. “What makes you think you have the right to info on my personal life? We haven’t spoken in over two weeks. As far as I’m concerned, we’re over. We’ve been over.”
“Over?” She scowls, but her eyes widen, hinting surprise. She blinks a few times and shakes her head, her stiff posture softening. “Just like that. We’re over? Not on a break or taking time. We’re just done.” She snaps her fingers and drops onto one of the outdoor couches.
“What is this?” I gesture to her demeanor. She actually looks sad. It’s a first. “What else was I supposed to think after you hung up on me?”
“I don’t know.” She pulls her maple hair over her shoulder and finger-combs the strands, her gaze on the table between the two couches.
I sit on the wicker arm of the one across from her. “I tried to meet up with you so we could do this in person, but you had other plans. Remember? When I didn’t hear from you, I figured we were done, and it was mutual.”
