Page 84 of Almost Ours
“Can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
Shane snorted. “Sure, sure. Just a heads up though, buddy–if you’re planning on sneaking off with her tonight, you’ll need to berealdiscreet. Those moms? They’re like bloodhounds for drama.”
I laughed, but the thought of stealing some time alone with Harper wasn’t exactly unappealing.
As we neared the civic centre, my mind drifted back to her text. What was she wearing? What was she thinking right now? And more importantly, how the hell was I supposed to focus on anything else tonight when all I wanted was her?
The room buzzed with laughter and conversation as I stood near the drinks table, chatting with Shane and a few hockey dads. I nodded along to a story about last season’s playoffs, Shane holding court as usual, tossing in sarcastic jabs and keeping everyone laughing.
I laughed at the right moments, but my focus was elsewhere, scanning the crowd.
And then the door opened, and a cold gust of late-December air swept in.
Everything else fell away.
Nina walked in first, her sparkly black dress catching the soft glow of the string lights overhead. Her brown hair was down in loose curls, and she moved with her usual easy confidence, a knowing smile already tugging at her lips as she scanned the room.
It was Harper who stole the air from my lungs, though.
Her blonde hair was styled half-up, loose waves spilling over her shoulders, soft and golden in the light. The red dress she wore hugged every curve perfectly, the fabric shimmering slightly as she moved. It clung to her in all the right places, showing off the toned strength of her frame while still leaving enough to the imagination. Her smooth skin glowed against the deep red of the fabric, and when my gaze dropped to her legs, I caught sight of black leather heels that made her look like she’d stepped out of a God damn dream.
I was rooted to the spot, mouth going dry. My brain short-circuited. All I could think–over and over–wasI need her. Right. Now.
“Barzal,” one of the dads said, snapping me out of my daze.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” I forced a tight smile and cleared my throat, answering the dad’s question about stick tape or some other inconsequential topic before excusing myself. My drink hit the table harder than I meant to, and I grabbed two glasses of champagne from the server walking by.
Shane was still smirking as I headed toward the women. “Good luck, lover boy,” he called after me.
I ignored him, weaving through the crowd until I was standing in front of Harper and Nina. Harper looked up at me, her green eyes meeting mine, and her shy smile made my pulse hammer.
“Wow,” I said, handing each of them a glass of champagne. “You both look… absolutely stunning tonight.”
“Why, thank you,” Nina replied, flashing me a grin and taking her glass.
Harper’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks, Ryan.”
Shane joined us then, drink in hand and already full of his usual snark. “Nina,” he drawled, giving her an exaggerated once-over, “don’t you clean up nice? Almost didn’t recognize you without the usual scowl.”
“Funny,” Nina shot back, arching a brow. “I was about to say the same thing about you–except I still recognize the smug face.”
Shane laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “You’re welcome. Also, you do look good. Like, for real.”
Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her small smile as she sipped her champagne.
I looked at Harper again, unable to help myself. Her gaze flitted to mine, and her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile that sent heat racing through me all over again.
“Should we get a table?” I asked, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.
“Sure,” Harper said, her voice quiet.
The four of us moved to a table, settling into easy conversation as the room continued to fill. Though, I barely heard a word anyone else said. My focus was locked on Harper–the way the dress moved when she shifted, the way her lips curved when she laughed.
Dinner couldn’t come fast enough–and neither could the chance to get her alone.
The lingeringtaste of the fancy holiday dinner was still on my tongue as I sipped my drink, laughter and music filling the civic centre. The meal had been incredible–far fancier than I’d expected for a small town event. There’d been nice salad with nuts and goat cheese, a perfectly cooked prime rib, tender and rich, served with all the trimmings, and a chocolate dessert so good that it might have ruined all other desserts for me.
People had started dancing now, their movements lit by the soft glow of fairy lights strung across the room. I leaned back in my chair, nursing my drink, but my focus wasn’t on the crowd–it was on Harper.
