Page 8 of Make Her Mine

Harlow gives Graham an affectionate grin. Then she looks at me. “No.”

“It makes sense,” I insist.

“They’ve been friends all their lives,” Sloane says, speaking up for the first time. “If it was going to be more than friendship, it would’ve happened by now.”

“They were just kids before. Maybe they needed to grow up a little,” I offer.

Now it’s Margot‘s turn. “Anyone who has been around Harlow and Graham knows that they’re only friends. There’s no chemistry. And this entire town has been around them before.”

I’m gritting my teeth now. “Look, Zach isn’t the brightest bulb in the drawer. We tell him that Harlow and Graham are in love. They spend their time together this week so that Zach can’t get close. He leaves town and it’s all over. This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

“They’ll never be able to pull it off,” Sasha says. “They’re going to run into Zach a lot even if he’s only here for a week. They’re not going to be able to be convincing as a couple in love.”

Margot nods. “I guarantee they can’t kiss with any heat. And if they try, they’ll probably get the giggles.”

Harlow actually giggles at that. Again, she’s looking at Graham. He’s grinning at her too.

“And Graham is interested in someone,” Harlow says. “I don’t want her believing that he’s involved with me.”

“Harlow,” Graham says, his voice low with warning.

She gives him a wink.

Wait, my brother is interested in someone? Who? Why hasn’t he told me? Has he told Ginny? Will he tell me if I ask?

Probably not. If he’s got Harlow, he doesn’t need anyone else. It’s always been that way.

Harlow looks at me. “So this is a terrible plan. Big shock. You’re bad at matchmaking too.”

“Well, excuse the hell out of me for trying to help you with Zach,” I say with a frown.

“First of all, I don’t need help with Zach.”

“You’ve always needed help with Zach. He’s the one person who could talk you into terrible decisions.”

Her eyes widen and her cheeks get pink. “Fuck off, Jefferson.”

I take a breath. Okay, that was low.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just…” Then I decide to be fully honest. “I really hate that guy. And he seemed so happy to be home and everyone at the bar seemed happy to see him and…I wanted to see him sad.”

I shrug. I never said I was a saint.

Harlow studies me for a moment. Then she smiles. “Did the idea of me with someone else make him seem sad?”

I lift one brow, but say, “Yes. And a little surprised. I think he thinks you still have feelings for him.”

She shakes her head. “I hate him.”

“He’s very easy to hate.”

“Very easy,” she agrees.

Our smiles grow.

“I can understand the urge in the moment to make him sad. Or knock him down a peg. Or whatever,” she says.

“I’d love to knock him down,” I mutter. And I don’t mean emotionally. Or with my words.

---