Page 35 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“I’d like that.”
“Good.” That smile again, small but devastating. “Drive safe, Harper.”
I’m halfway to my car before I realize I’m smiling for no reason except that I already want to see him again. And for the first time in months, that feeling doesn’t scare me.
It feels right.
15
Not What You Think
Cole
Harper’shalfwayacrosstheparking lot toward her car when the impulse hits me like a slap shot to the chest. Before I can second-guess myself, I’m calling after her.
“Harper.”
She turns, eyebrows raised, keys already in her hand. In the glow of the restaurant’s outdoor lighting, she looks like something out of a movie—bright blue eyes, hair catching the light, that small smile still playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Want to come back to my place?” The words are out before I can think them through properly, and I grin before she can react. “Not what you’re thinking. Promise.”
She tilts her head, skeptical amusement replacing surprise. “That sounds exactly like what you’d say if itwaswhat I’m thinking.”
“Scout’s honor.” I hold up my hand in what I hope looks like an official Boy Scout salute. “I have a better offer than another night of Netflix and whatever late night snacks you’ve got in your fridge.”
She’s quiet for a moment, studying my face like she’s trying to decide if I’m being genuine or just really good at playing innocent. Finally, she shakes her head with a laugh that sounds like surrender.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the offer?”
“You’ll have to trust me and find out.”
She hesitates for exactly three seconds before that smile spreads into something more decisive. “Fine. But if this turns out to be some elaborate scheme to get me alone, I’m calling my cousin and shewillhunt you down.”
“Noted and appreciated. Hop in. Your car will be fine.”
When she climbs into my truck, she tucks her purse carefully at her feet and buckles her seatbelt, still shooting me sideways looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep the drive light, asking about her favorite movies and telling her about the time Rex tried to steal an entire Thanksgiving turkey off the counter when he was a puppy.
“He actually got it halfway to his bed before my roommate caught him,” I say as we pull into my driveway. “Finn still brings it up every holiday season.”
“Smart dog. I respect his ambition.”
“Don’t tell him that. His ego’s already too big for his own good.”
The second we step through the front door, Rex comes barreling over like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment. His tail is wagging so hard his entire back end is wiggling, and he immediately plants himself at Harper’s feet, looking up at her with pure adoration.
“Well, hello there,” she says, crouching down to pet him. Rex melts into her touch like they’ve known each other forever, leaning his full weight against her legs and making those soft little whining sounds he reserves for his favorite people.
“Guess you’ve passed the pup approval test,” I say, watching the way Rex’s eyes actually close in bliss when she scratches behind his ears. “He’s usually more suspicious of strangers.”
“I’m good with dogs. They can sense authenticity.” She’s grinning when she says it. I love her sarcasm.
Rex refuses to move from Harper’s side, so I have to bribe him with a treat to get him to go lie down in Finn’s room. He follows the treat reluctantly, shooting reproachful looks over his shoulder like I’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal.
“Roommate’s on vacation,” I explain as I shut the door on Rex’s dramatic sighs. “Rex gets jealous when he has to share attention.”
Harper straightens, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture draws my attention to the line of her neck, the way the soft lighting in my living room makes her skin look warm and touchable.
“So,” she says, “what’s the big mystery offer that’s supposedly better than Netflix?”
