“Yeah, well, I wanted that moron to want me.” She closed her eyes because they felt suspiciously wet. “Here I am, trying to reinvent sexy and alluring to attract the attention of one of the most sexy and alluring designers in the world, and I can’t even attract the attention of the guy I’ve been crushing on for almost a year. How am I supposed to save my grandma’s shop?”
“The same way you save everything else in this town.” He tilted her chin up until she opened her eyes. “With your entire heart and soul.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said. “I still have my whole heart and soul to give, because no one wants a piece of it.”
“Ah, sunshine.” He touched her cheek. “You give a piece of it every day to everyone you meet. The kids in your class, the people around town, the moron who wants to start dating and misses the perfect woman standing right in front of him. Even the asshole who can’t manage to plan a picnic.”
“You aren’t an asshole.”
“See, right there, you see the best in everyone. You’re warm and quirky and sunny and so damn open and giving it blows my mind.” His gaze tracked down her body and back up, making her shiver from head to toe. “And that, Harper Owens, is alluring and addicting and sexy as hell.”
Harper couldn’t remember anyone calling her sexy before. Coming from a master woman-whisperer, she should have discounted it. But she couldn’t. He seemed so genuine, and she could tell he believed what he was saying.
Distracting herself from how heavenly his hands felt on her body, she played with a string dangling off the hem of her shirt. “A year, Adam, and he asks my advice on dating, then asks someone else out on my date, and I’m stuck here. Working.”
“Correction, sunshine,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her onto his lap—his nearly naked lap, which her short cutoffs did little to protect her from. “You’re here with your boyfriend, who happens to be Mr. July. And everyone knows that July is the hottest month of the year, reserved for the hottest subjects.”
She laughed. She was feeling silly and rejected and like a fraud, and he still managed to make her laugh. “Everyone knows that, huh?”
“Yup.”
Just like everyone would know the second Mr. July burned out on this faux-mance. People wouldn’t ask him if he was okay, or if he needed to cry it out. Because everyone would assume that he’d dumped her. Harper Owens. The ordinary woman who caught the most extraordinary fish in town, but couldn’t reel him in.
And wasn’t that going to suck.
She drained the last sip of Scotch, noticing that her belly was delightfully warm, and handed the glass back. “Thank you for listening to my pathetic day, but I’m all talked out.”
She went to stand, but he pressed his palms down on her thigh, holding her in place. “Oh, honey, my day will make your pathetic one seem like a trip to Disneyland.”
She snorted, because she’d been to Disneyland. It was her senior trip, and she was in love with the captain of the water polo team. Curtis was sweet, smart, going Ivy League in the fall—and gay. Not that Harper knew. It came as a complete shock when he decided, during the big Happiest Place on Earth photo beneath Sleeping Beauty’s castle, to kiss the captain of the football team. Well, a shock to Harper—her friends were only shocked Harper didn’t know.
“Impossible,” she said.
“It’s a second-glass kind of story.” He took the bottle off the stand next to the chair and refilled the tumbler. “One I promise will have you laughing.”
She crossed her arms.
“Fine, if by the end I convince you mine was worse, then I get a peek at what’s under that top of yours.”
Convinced there was no way his day could have been more embarrassing, and wanting to get off his lap before she went in for another hug—and pressed herself against that twelve-pack—she said, “I think this is just your mine is bigger than yours mentality kicking in, but go ahead.”
“As an April Fool’s joke, I submitted a request for a condom vending machine, which was accidently passed up the chain of command.”
Harper’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
He gave her a look. “It gets better. I had to go apologize to the chief’s secretary, in person, for writing the word dick seventeen times in a formal request.”
Harper felt Adam cringe, so she had to ask, “Who is the chief’s secretary?”
He handed her the glass. “Mrs. Franklin.”
Harper choked on the whiskey. “Mrs. Franklin? She was my first-grade teacher.”
“Mine too. I had to look straight into the eyes of the woman who taught me the importance of penmanship and explain the importance of proper hose safety.” Adam took the glass back and drained it.
“What did she say?”
“That she was so impressed with my use of innuendo she didn’t feel the need to hand it over to her boss.” Adam leaned back against the chair, and Harper felt herself slide a little closer. Her heart followed suit. “I’ve screwed this promotion thing up a few times now, been passed over for lieutenant more than that, but I need to get it right. This is my last chance to prove I’m more than my reputation.”
Harper knew it was none of her business, but sitting on his lap, listening to the frustration in his voice, she felt herself being pulled in. Becoming invested. “Prove it to yourself? Or to the chief?”