Page 32 of Score on You

Harper’s blink is slow. “Oh, you’re going to wait for marriage.”

That gives me pause. “I suppose those traditions belong strictly to Billmoore.”

She shrugs. “Not necessarily. It just depends on your personal beliefs. Plenty of couples wait until their wedding night.”

My mind whirls fast enough to make me dizzy. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

There hasn’t been a reason to, until recently it seems. Sex is so far off my radar that it doesn’t even appear as a speck. But I do find Ridge extremely attractive. The thought of being intimate with him is definitely appealing. Warmth collects in my lower belly, and I shift on the seat.

“This is happening very quickly,” I add.

Harper must catch the stress tightening my features. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re not rushing into anything. But there are many options for when the time comes for the next step, and youwant to prevent… you know. That way you don’t expand your waistline until you’re ready.” She widens her eyes and makes an arc over her flat stomach.

Sydney chooses that second to be done with her drawing. “Are you pregnant, Mommy?”

The idle chatter surrounding us abruptly ends. It feels like every pair of eyes shifts to stare at our table. Even our server pauses on her return to us with the drinks held in midair. Secondhand embarrassment flares in my cheeks and I duck my chin. Meanwhile, Harper winces and faces her daughter.

“No, I’m not expecting a baby,” she says loud enough to appease the crowd. Then she leans closer to Sydney. “And please don’t shout that. People are listening.”

The little girl glances around. “Why are they spying on us? That’s rude.”

“It’s just what folks do. Daddy will hear about this before I even get the chance to call him. Rumors in this town spread faster than”—she cuts herself off with a quick glance at her daughter’s rapt focus—“jelly on toast. We should probably put a lid on discussing your… reproductive safety choices until later. Otherwise, everyone will assume you’re preparing to do the deed with your grumpy neighbor.”

“Oh, no.” Flames erupt across my face. I peek at those seated nearby. Most appear to have lost interest in us. “The gossips aren’t that bad.”

“You’re not giving them enough credit. I heard about Ridge painting your door before he even finished the job.”

“That’s unbelievable,” I whisper as my stomach somersaults. “I still can’t believe he did that.”

Harper swats at the space between us. “Puh-lease. That man would do anything for you.”

“That’s not true,” I mumble.

“Wanna bet?”

“I don’t like to gamble.”

She laughs. “Then how about giving him a surprise? I think it’s your turn.”

“Like a plate of cookies?”

“Sure, he’s gonna love that.” When Harper wiggles her brows, concern spikes my heart rate. “But I have another suggestion that will satisfy more than his sweet tooth.”

A giggle that’s ripe with sneaky undertones demands my attention. I glance over to where Harper is typing on her phone. The grunt I aim at her does little to pause whatever she’s writing.

“Could’ve sworn you were on the clock,” I gripe.

“Oh, hush,” she retorts without bothering to look up. “You’re the last person who can give me shit for texting on the job.”

Yet I haven’t since this shift started. The only person I’m interested in hearing from is busy. With what, I’m not sure. As if I’m not already suspicious, another giddy noise comes from the blonde who’s supposed to be bartending.

My gaze shifts from Harper to her husband. Jake is firmly planted on his usual seat, a beer clutched in one palm. The fingers of his other hand drum on the wood counter as he watches his wife slack off on the job. No phone in sight.

I pin a glare on the so-called exemplary employee. “Are you talking to Callie?”

“Maybe.” She averts her screen but not before I see the length of the blue bubble that’s a signature style for a certain text-chatty brunette.

I frown at my screen that remains blank. “What’s she saying?”

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