Page 21 of Secret Baby With My Brother's Best Friend

"You look stunning," the compliment slipped from my lips before I knew it.

Harper looked at me, with surprise etched on her features. "You don't have to give me compliments when we are alone. The show is only for the audience," she said and went ahead of me.

We took the elevator down. By the time we emerged from the elevator, we had our arms linked to each other, and Harper was laughing like I said something funny. We entered the car and returned to our usual selves briefly before we arrived at the restaurant.

"We are here," I announced, glancing at Harper. "Are you good?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Let's go."

I stepped down from the vehicle and moved swiftly to Harper's side, holding the door open for her. Harper exited from the car, and I wrapped my arm around her tiny waist—the subtle touch sending a burning sensation to my groins. We strode inside the restaurant and sat at the center of the room, exposing ourselves to prying eyes.

I pulled out a seat for Harper. She smiled softly, mumbling "Thank you" as she sat down. I could feel everyone's eyes on us, which was very inconvenient. I took the seat across from Harper, watching her intently as she perused through the menu.

"You're staring," Harper whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of conversation in the restaurant.

"I'm admiring you. It shows attraction, and they are watching us.”

Her discomfort was evident as she replied, "It's suffocating, being the center of attention."

"Tell me about it," I muttered.

A waiter approached our table, his presence momentarily distracting us from our private conversation. "Good morning," the young waiter said. "What would you like to order?"

Harper's response was swift, a glimmer of defiance in her eyes. "I'll have an omelet with potatoes and orange juice."

The waiter jotted her order and then turned his attention to me, I barely glanced at the menu. "I'll have the Eggs Benedict with hash browns and orange juice as well. That will do for now. Thank you."

The waiter left to get our orders, and the silence grew heavy between us. It was uncomfortable and there were many eyes watching. "Why did you become a sports publicist?" I questioned, breaking the silence between us.

Harper hesitated, her eyes locking with mine and there was a glint of pain on her gaze "I don't know," she replied coldly, looking away. I could tell there was more to it but I didn't press her.

The waiter returned with our order some minutes later, and we ate our meal in silence, sharing a smile occasionally to fool our audience.

I observed as Harper playfully dipped her potato tots into the hollandaise sauce and a smile formed on my face. It was reassuring to see that at least that aspect hadn't changed. "Still fixated on that, I see," I remarked.

Harper's eyes flickered to me, then back to the sauce. She popped the potato tots into her mouth before asking, "On what?"

"Your strong distaste for ketchup," I replied.

"I don't hate it; I just don't like it. There's a difference," she argued, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I still can't see the difference though."

I dipped my potato tots in ketchup and savored the taste. "This is delicious."

"Tsk!" she scoffed. "This is the best," she declared with a smile.

"I'd say we have taken enough pictures here. Should we leave?" I asked.

Harper finished her food and nodded. "Yes."

I paid the bill, and together we walked back to the car. "Are we heading somewhere else?" Harper inquired as we strolled along.

"We could go to the cinema and catch a movie. There are many audiences there. What do you think?"

"Not a bad idea. I love movies."

I know. "Who doesn't?"

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