“Yes, she does.” Mitch gulped down club soda, stretched out his long, long legs. “Oh, yes, she does.”
“But I enjoyed the experience quite a lot.”
“She just . . .” Mitch sailed his hand through the air to illustrate. “Sailed off as if she’d been born on one of the damn things.”
“We Harpers do tend to have excellent athletic abilities and superior balance.”
“But she doesn’t like to brag,” Mitch pointed out, then glanced over at the click of heels on hardwood.
Harper did the same, and felt his reputed superior balance falter.
She looked frigging amazing. The skinny little red dress, the mile-high shoes combined to make her legs look endless. The sort of legs a man could imagine cruising over for miles and miles. Her hair was so damn sexy that way, and her mouth was all hot and red.
She had a baby on her hip, he reminded himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about what he’d like to do to that mouth, that body when she was carrying Lily. It had to be wrong.
Across the room, Logan let out a long, low whistle that had Hayley’s face lighting up.
“Hello, beautiful. You look good enough to eat. You look good, too, Hayley.”
At that, she gave one of those husky rolls of laughter, and hip-swayed over to drop Lily in Log
an’s lap. “Just for that.”
“How about some wine?” Roz offered.
“To tell you the truth, I’ve been wanting a cold beer.”
“I’ll get it.” Harper all but sprang out of his chair, and was heading out of the parlor before she could respond. He hoped the trip to the kitchen and back would bring his blood pressure back to normal.
She was a cousin, sort of, he reminded himself. And an employee. His mother’s houseguest. A mother. Any one of those reasons meant hands-off. Tally them up, and it put Hayley way off-limits. Added to that, she didn’t think of him that way, not even close.
A guy made a move on a woman under those circumstances, he was just asking to screw up a nice, pleasant friendship.
He got out a beer, got out a pilsner. As he was pouring, he heard the squeal, and the rapid clip of heels on wood. He glanced over and spotted Lily running, with Hayley scrambling behind her.
“She want a beer, too?”
With a laugh, Hayley started to scoop Lily up, only to have her baby girl go red in the face and arch away. “You. Like always.”
“That’s my girl.” He hoisted her up, gave her a toss. The mutinous little face went sugar sweet and bright with smiles. Pretending to pout, Hayley finished pouring her beer.
“Shows where I am in her pecking order.”
“You got the beer, I got the kid.”
Lily wrapped an arm around Harper’s neck, dipped her head to rest it on his cheek. Hayley nodded, lifted her glass. “Looks like.”
IT WAS WONDERFUL to have everyone around the table again, the whole Harper House family, as Hayley thought of them, sitting together, diving into David’s honey-glazed ham.
She’d missed having a big family. Growing up, it had been just Hayley and her father. Not that she’d felt deprived, she thought, not in any way. She and her father had been a team, a unit, and he was—had been—the kindest, funniest, warmest man she’d ever known.
But she’d missed having meals like this, a full table, lots of voices—even the arguments and drama that went hand-in-hand in her mind with big families.
Lily would grow up with that, because Roz had welcomed them. So Lily would have a lifetime of meals like this one, full of aunts and uncles and cousins. Grandparents, she thought, stealing a glance toward Roz and Mitch. And when Roz’s other sons, or Mitch’s son, came to visit, it would just add to the rich family stew.
One day, Roz’s sons, and Mitch’s Josh, would get married. Probably have a herd of kids between them.
She shifted her gaze toward Harper and ordered herself to ignore the little ache that came from thinking of him married, making babies with some woman whose face she couldn’t see.