Page 75 of From the Start
“Ugh. Can you stop being perfect?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say he’s perfect. I blame his smell. When he’s near me, I can’t help but get mesmerized but his scent of whiskey and worn flannel. Like the first night you sleep in someone else’s bed and realize you never want to leave.
He smirks. “I’ll try, but I was born this way.”
“Fine. You can spend the entire day running yourself ragged serving Mermaid Moonshine to all the visitors.”
“Thank you.” He presses his lips to mine in a quick, hard kiss. I lean into him for more but he lifts his head and nudges me toward Blossom and Dakota.
“Who’s ready to watch a pirate fight for his woman?” I ask since I’m apparently not going back to work.
Pearl jumps up and down. “Me!”
I grasp her hand and lead her toward the main stage. Dakota and Blossom follow me.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I glance over my shoulder. Kai waves and smiles at me.
I want to watch him wave as I leave for work every day for the rest of my life. I am falling entirely too fast for this man. Slow things down, Harper. Slow things down.
He’s a child and will break my heart if I jump into a serious relationship with him. He’s not ready for serious. He might think he is but he’s twenty-four.
No twenty-four-year-old man wants to be serious with a thirty-two-year-old woman. Especially not a thirty-two-year-old woman with a bar to run and a Dad to care for.
Chapter 22
“Harper can knock on my door in the middle of the night whenever she wants.” ~ Kai
Kai
Someone pounds on my front door and I startle awake. I scan the room. I’m in my living room on my couch with the television blaring. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for Harper to message me, she got home safe.
There’s another knock on the door. I wish I could say this is an unusual occurrence but when Zane and Miles are your brothers, you never know what’s going to happen.
“Coming!” I shout.
I groan as I stand to answer the door. My entire body aches from working on my feet all day at the festival. I run five miles at least five times a week. I should be able to handle a day of manual labor. I don’t know how Harper does it.
“What are you…” I trail off when I open the door to find Harper on my doorstep. “Hey, Slugger.”
She forces her way into my house. “You drive me crazy.”
“Welcome to the club.”
“You run around acting like I’m your girlfriend who you someday want to marry and have children with.”
“It’s not an act.”
She continues to rant as if I hadn’t spoken.
“You’re twenty-four. I’m thirty-two. You can’t possibly be ready for marriage and children. Your prefrontal cortex isn’t fully formed yet.”
“What’s a prefrontal cortex?”
“I have no idea.”
I step toward her and grasp her hands. “Then, what does it matter?”
