Page 42 of A Brush with Love
At the checkout counter, Dan pulled out his wallet at the same time Harper reached for hers.
“Nuh-uh, no way,” she said, waving at his hand. “A deal is a deal. You lost.” She fumbled to pull her credit card out of its pocket, and he gave her a bemused smile.
“Don’t worry, Harper, I’ll still honor your rights to a second date,” he said with a wink, sliding his card out smoothly and moving to put it in the chip reader.
“Stop it,” Harper said, giving up on her wallet and wrapping both of her hands around his wrist, tugging at it sharply. His arm jerked into a stack of coupons sitting on the counter and sent them flying. The checkout clerk let out a dull sigh.
Harper shot the woman an apologetic smile, which turned into a gape when Dan easily pulled against Harper’s grip, lifting her clutched arms up as he inserted the card.
“I can buy my own groceries. I’m… I’m a feminist,” she said weakly, watching the receipt print out. “Independent.”
“I know you are,” he said with a smile. “But—also as a feminist—I can buy your groceries too. Now let’s go, you’re making a scene.” He grabbed the grocery bags in one hand and laced his fingers through Harper’s with the other, leading them out of the store.
CHAPTER 14
DAN
“Do you have anything particularly perishable?” Dan asked as they walked along the darkening streets. “If not, maybe we could get coffee?” He pointed his chin toward a café a few stores down, still holding Harper’s hand. He had no intention of letting it go.
She looked up at him with a sweet smile. “Coffee sounds good.” Harper studied him and Dan saw a new openness in the way her eyes met his.
As if noticing it for herself, she looked away and dropped his hand, running her fingers through her hair and giving it a gentle tug before tucking a lock behind her ear.
Dan tamped down the pang of disappointment. He could be patient. He’d wait however long it took for her to let him in, brick by brick.
They stepped into the warm café. Mismatched furniture filled the space, art lining every inch of the walls. Shelves and cabinets sat in the corners, overflowing with books and board games, discarded pieces littering the tables throughout the shop.
After ordering their coffees, they chose a table near the front window and sat in happy quietness, sipping their drinks and watching people pass in the December chill.
A pile of checkers and poker chips were stacked on the table,and Dan watched Harper’s hands as she fiddled with the pieces, running her nail over their edges and turning them between each finger. He wanted to map the strong tendons and blue veins that stood out against her skin, trace her angular knuckles, and entwine her long, nimble fingers with his own.
Her hands were always moving, taking every opportunity to flex and stretch. It was like she discovered the world around her by using her hands, every touch allowing her to find the nuances of her environment, flitting along with a delicate grace as she explored hidden patterns she seemed to sense before she saw.
He loved watching her hands.
She wrapped them around her coffee cup and brought it to her lips.
“What are you staring at?” she asked over the rim.
Dan’s attention snapped to Harper’s face.
“Your hands,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.
Her eyebrows lifted behind her bangs. “My hands?”
“I like watching them explore. They’re fascinating.”
She gave him an incredulous frown that made him laugh.
“They are! Your hands are beautiful. I mean… all of you is beautiful,” Dan’s heart beat up into his throat as the words spilled out. “But I’m admiring your hands in particular tonight.” He ducked his head, worried that he’d said too much.
But holding back that simple truth would be like denying the sky was blue or grass was green. She was beautiful and she should know it.
Harper let out an embarrassed snort of laughter and clapped a hand over her eyes. Adorable dimples wrinkled her chin as she tried to suppress a smile, and Dan tried and failed to hold back a laugh.
“I. Hate. You,” she said, her hand still covering half her face as the smile won out.
“Why’s that?” he asked, tugging at her wrist. She kept it firmly in place.
