“That’s a loaded question.” She laughs again. “I have a favorite place for Tacos, BBQ, Steak, Pizza, so you’ll have to be a little more specific.”
I step closer, removing some of the distance between the two of us. Her eyes flick to mine, and I can see the heat in them; I can feel the tension between us crackling in the air. “Harper, pick someplace to order from before I say fuck it and take you straight to bed.”
“Oh,” she says as her lips form a perfect O and her cheeks turn a deep red color. She fumbles with the papers, pulling one out and smacking it against my chest.
I break the eye contact, looking at the menu she’s picked. “I’ll take the crab rangoons, fried rice, and bourbon chicken.” She calls in the order, and I hand over my card to her to pay for dinner.
“Food should be here in about thirty minutes,” she says, setting her cell down on the counter. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks, slipping away from me. It’s probably a good thing she’s put some distance between us, for now. I’m not sure how much more the air could have crackled amongst us before we’d have combusted.
“Sure, what do you have?” I ask. She opens the fridge and bends over, looking inside. I try hard, but I’m a red-blooded man, and her ass is on perfect display. I can’t help but admire it.
“Nathan?” Harper says, and I snap out of my trance.
“Yes, sorry, what were you saying?” I ask, flicking my eyes to hers.
She smiles, knowing damn well she caught me checking out her ass. “I was telling you I have some wine, a beer, or water.”
“A beer sounds great,” I tell her. She reaches back into the fridge and produces a bottle. I check out the label, realizing it is a locally brewed beer. I pop the top and take a healthy drink. “Wow, that’s got a really good flavor,” I state, then take another drink.
“It’s one of the only kinds of beer I’ll drink. I don’t usually like beer, but theirs I can tolerate.”
“How long have they been around?” I ask, taking another drink.
“Five years or so,” she says. “Would you like to go sit outside on the deck?”
“Sure, but will we be able to hear the delivery person?”
“I have a Ring doorbell, so it will alert me on my phone,” she says, shaking her cell in her hand.
“Well, that’s handy.” I chuckle. I follow her out onto the deck, where we each take a seat in the two Adirondack chairs she has.
“So,” she says, breaking the silence that we fell into.
“So,” I parrot like an idiot, which causes her to laugh. I follow suit, and that breaks us from the awkwardness that settled between us. “Tell me you’re single, Harper,” I state, wanting to make damn sure I’m not crossing any boundaries with her.
“I’m single, Nathan,” she confirms. “I wouldn’t have agreed to dinner tonight if I wasn’t,” she asserts, giving me a pointed look.
“I didn’t think you would, but I just wanted to hear it from your lips,” I tell her honestly.
“And you?” she questions.
“Very single. I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. And when I did, well, let’s just say she wasn’t really there for me; she was there for what my name and status did for her.”
“I’m sorry.” She grimaces.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. I’ve grown used to it over the years. I never know when someone wants to get to know me for me, or when they want to get to know me because my bank account has more digits than they could ever fathom.”
“That must be hard,” she says, taking another sip of her glass of wine she brought out with her.
“As I said, I’m used to it now. It sucked the first time it happened. It broke something inside of me, if I’m honest, and I never really looked at the women I’d go out on dates with as more than a temporary thing. I know that might make me an asshole, but it was a form of self-preservation. If I didn’t get attached, then, when they ultimately left, I wasn’t the one left with a broken heart.”
“I can understand why you’d do that,” she says.
“Tell me about taking over the bakery,” I state more than ask. She takes the bait and changes the subject.
“After high school, I still worked there part-time when I could, around my college classes. I was in my senior year when Mom had her stroke, and all hell broke loose. She was in the hospital for a few weeks recovering and being rehabilitated. Unfortunately, she never fully recovered. She requires assistance for almost everything. Dad had to retire early to take care of her. I’d always planned on taking over the bakery one day, but figured it would be ten-plus years later, not when I was attempting to finish up my senior year.”
“So, what happened?”