Page 60 of The Attraction

“What?” I ask.

“BBQ ribs were his favorite food. I haven’t eaten them since he left.” And I can’t help but feel proud of her for taking that first step out of the shadow she has been living in.

“Thank you,” I say, letting her know how much I appreciate her trying so hard to open up a little. “Maybe one day down the track, we can find an American ribs place and can enjoy some together. When you are ready, there is no rush.” I kiss her forehead as she looks up at me.

“I think I might like that,” she expresses with the slightest bit of hope in her voice. Something I’ve never heard when she talks about her father.

We may just be getting somewhere.

“Now let’s get ready to go the grocery shop, after I message Flynn and tell him not to worry about dessert.” And that sentence is enough to snap her from her thoughts.

“Yay! What are you cooking? It better be good. We need to show that little shit of a brother of yours that he’s not the only chef. Oh, can I cook too? Or at least try to. I need to message my mother and get her recipe for pumpkin pie. It’s to die for.” She is out of my arms and picking up her phone, messaging at speed. “I’ve never cooked it before, but how hard can it be, right?” The way her face has lit up makes me happy.

“Famous last words,” I declare as start I messaging Flynn.

* * *

Harper is standing in the middle of the living room where I’m sitting on the couch, watching the football game while she was showering.

“Seriously, how does my mother make baking look so easy? I just spent twenty minutes trying to get the flour out of my hair and the pastry from under my fingernails. And you, Mr. Master Chef, whipping up a lemon meringue pie and a chocolate mousse in less time than it took for me to cook one dessert. I’m just not meant to be a baker obviously. My talents must be in other…”

She takes my breath away most days, but just looking at her standing in front of me in a pair of jeans that fit her body perfectly and a white button-up shirt, tucked in at her waist on one side and the other just hanging loosely. Her feet are bare, with toenails painted a deep plum color that match her fingernails. Her black hair twisted into a messy bun with a few strands just freely hanging down the side of her face. The lightest dusting of makeup.

“Stunning,” is all I reply to her, cutting off her rant.

She stops mid-sentence, but it brings a smile to her face.

“Am I casual enough for your mum? I don’t want her feeling uncomfortable.” Her care for my mother just makes me fall that little bit more. I know I’m setting myself up for real hurt, but I can’t stop myself. It just means I need to work harder to make her fall just as hard back so she doesn’t walk away.

“Thank you.” Sitting forward on the couch and leaning out, I grab her hand and pull her toward me. Before she has time to protest, I pull her into my lap. “That’s kind of you to worry about her. It means a lot to me.” I kiss her softly on her lips.

“Ah-ah, you’ll smudge my lipstick,” Harper pretends to scold me.

“That’s okay, I’ll just kiss you on your other lips,” I say, smirking to myself.

“Forrest!” she shrieks and tries to squirm out of my lap.

“What?” I hold her tight around her waist and have no intention of letting her go just yet.

Both of us are laughing, and it’s like having Harper here, like this, is breathing life into my apartment.

With her settling on my lap, I know we still have a little bit of time before Flynn and Felisha arrive, and then later, my parents.

“We need to have a chat.” My words make Harper stop and look at me with a serious expression.

“What’s wrong?” I feel for her because every time someone wants to discuss something with her, it automatically puts her on alert.

“Nothing serious.” I put my hand on her cheek to calm her. “But we need to talk about us and what, if anything, we are going to tell people, especially my family.” If I had the option, I would be shouting from the rooftop of this building that Harper Williams is mine. But it’s not as simple as that.

“We can’t tell them.” The panic on her face tells me everything. She still thinks this is just for now.

“Okay, but can I ask why?” I try to keep my frustration from breaking free.

“What will happen when it ends? They will think they need to take sides.” And there it is. The fear that this won’t last.

“I don’t know how many times I need to say this. I will fight for you, Harper. You can try to push me away, but I’m stubborn as hell, and when I want something, I don’t give up easily.” My words make her flinch, but I figure the more I say it, I have a chance that eventually it will sink in.

“Oh, you think you are stubborn? Pot meet kettle.” And she is defaulting to humor so she doesn’t have to talk about this any longer.

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