Page 10 of Shattered
She'd changed from her work attire—jeans and a khaki button-down—into a pair of tights and a long, loose-fitting shirt. Her hair was still bunched up on top of her head. As usual, I imagined what she'd look like with it tumbling over her shoulders. I'd never seen her with her hair down, ever. Maybe that was why my fingers always itched to free her tresses from the confines of that knot.
"Two things," Harper said by way of greeting when I reached her at the door. There was no make-up to mar her creamy skin, and the scent of daisies enveloped me. I just managed not to close my eyes and inhale deeply.
"Flynn is not used to men coming around," she continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "He is overly excited that you'll be joining us. So, please, bear with him." I nodded and opened my mouth to speak when Harper shook her head and pointed her index finger skyward. "I won't tolerate any bad language in front of my son."
I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "Got it."
Her dark head bobbed a little as she nodded tentatively; her nervous energy filled the space between us. Her brows furrowed, and I got the feeling that she'd suddenly changed her mind about dinner. Just as she opened her mouth, little Flynn appeared by her side.
"Logan!" Disheveled white locks and a goofy grin greeted me.
I dropped to my haunches in front of the tiny human and held my hand out, palm facing Flynn. "Hey, little man. Gimme five."
Flynn reached high and then smacked my palm with as much force as a five-year-old could muster.
"You wanna see my superhero collection? I have-"
"Slow down, baby." Harper's hand gently squeezed the little boy's shoulder. "Let Logan come in and get settled first. Remember what I told you?"
Flynn's slim shoulders slumped, and his little head nodded. He dropped his head in childlike-disappointment and said, "Yes mommy." Then he turned and ran back into the house. I watched him disappear before glancing up to find Harper observing me.
Our gazes locked and held while I straightened to my full height. Try as I might, I couldn't figure out what was going on in that head of hers. Harper squinted slightly as if trying to solve some cryptic puzzle and then tilted her head in the direction of the house.
"You should come in."
"That'd be nice."
Without another word Harper turned and strolled inside with me short on her heels. That homey-feeling I always got when I stepped into my momma's house, hit me the moment my foot crossed the threshold.
Some of Flynn's toys were scattered on the thick chocolate rug in the living room. The mint green couches weren't new or modern, but they didn't subtract from the aesthetic feel. As we made our way to the kitchen, I noticed that there were plenty of photographs of just Harper and Flynn, but not one of Flynn's daddy.
I had never been one to lend out my ears, but, if the rumor mill was to be believed, Harper was a widow. While I continued to scan my surroundings, I couldn't help but wonder about the man.
"Beer?" Harper's voice drew me back to the present. She was standing in front of the fridge with one hand on the handle. Deftly, I let my gaze sweep over the marbled gray counters where I spotted a half-full bottle of beer.
"Beer's good, thanks."
Harper pulled an ice-cold beer from the fridge, opened it and handed it to me. Before I brought the bottle to my lips, I tipped it in the direction of the stacked ingredients on the counter next to the stove. "Anything I can help with?"
My question was met with a raised eyebrow. "You cook?"
My lips curled into a grin. "Sugar," I said lifting my free hand up and wiggling my fingers. "There ain't nothing that these hands can't do."
A small smile spread across Harper's face, and it almost stopped my heart. "We'll see." Bringing the bottle to my lips for a long swallow, I kept my eyes on Harper as she gathered a few items and then stalked toward me.
"You can help by chopping these," she told me as she dropped an onion, two tomatoes, and a pepper on the counter next to me.
I winked while saluting her with my beer. "Yes, ma'am."
While I chopped the ingredients for the sauce, Harper worked on preparing the meatballs. Seeing as the meat in the bowl held her attention, I figured it was the most opportune time to learn more about her.
"Why Willow Creek?"
Those deep green eyes of hers, filled with apprehension, rose to meet mine. "What?"
"You moved here without knowing a soul or having a job," I said, stating the obvious. "I'm curious: why did you choose Willow Creek?"
Harper studied me for a long moment. I got the impression that she didn't want to answer my question. But then her shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug, and she spoke. "There's no real reason. I just opened a map, picked a place and we moved."
