He was so beautiful, she had to clench her hands into fists to stop herself from cupping his face and pulling his lips to hers. She knew exactly where that could go: amazing sex and wishful thinking. Followed by weeks of loneliness.
She couldn’t keep making the same mistake.
“But it didn’t work,” she reminded him. “Every single time we tried, it didn’t work. And we both got hurt.”
A flash of surprise and hurt in his face. “I know. I wish it wasn’t like that.”
“It is like that, though,” Harper said. “It will always be like that as long as you’ve got your job and I’ve got mine. The second we even think about getting together everyone figures it out, you take heat at work, and it all falls apart.” Her throat tightened. “It hurts too much to go through that.”
He looked at her then, with those regretful eyes, and she had to tear her gaze away or she knew she’d ignore everything she’d just said and pull him to her.
“Besides,” she said, staring at the targets in the distance, “don’t you have a girlfriend now?”
Her words echoed in the long silence that followed before he finally responded. “Yeah.”
Hearing him confirm it caught her short. It took her a second to summon enough false enthusiasm to respond, “Well, that’s great. Is it someone I know?”
He watched her guardedly. “It’s Sarah Blake.”
“Oh.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.
Sarah was a patrol officer. Young and blond, with a heart-shaped face, a quick wit, and deep dimples. She was smaller than Harper, with the muscular build of a gymnast. All the cops had a thing for her.
Somehow that made it worse.
With effort, she asked, “Is it serious?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Maybe. I don’t know.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about this.” He closed the locker hard. The metallic clang echoed in the long room. “We better get out of here.”
“Sure.” Heat rose to Harper’s cheeks.
She shoved the gun into her bag and got her keys out.
Luke’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing the shoulder holster?”
“I carry it how I want,” Harper snapped.
She’d had enough of the gun range. Enough of pretending that she was fine. And that she didn’t have endless regrets. She turned and walked quickly across the shadowy shooting room to the dingy lobby. She heard the sound of Luke’s footsteps as he followed.
Neither of them spoke as he pulled the piece of paper Jerry had given to him from his pocket and set the alarm and locked the door.
Outside, Harper took a deep breath and stared up at the cloudy night sky. A hazy golden halo encircled the moon.
Ring around the moon—rain tomorrow, she thought, distantly.
When she glanced back, Luke was watching her with a strange, unreadable expression.
“Thanks for the lesson,” she said.
“No problem.” His tone was as clipped and cool as hers.
There was no point sticking around. No reason to drag this out. Every word between them was salt on their wounds. The best place they could be was away from each other.
She unlocked the Camaro and climbed in, her shoulders stiff. When she put her hands on the wheel, they felt numb.
She didn’t know why she was so upset. She’d known—or suspected, at least. And they were through.
It seemed she had let him go with her mind, but not with her heart. Because, this felt like breaking up all over again.
Shifting the car into gear, she drove away without saying good-bye.
Before she pulled out of the parking lot, she allowed herself one glance at the rearview mirror. Luke hadn’t moved.
He was standing right where she’d left him, watching her go.
23
After leaving the gun range, Harper couldn’t bear to go home. She didn’t want to drive through the marshes alone. She didn’t want to be in that cottage by herself, thinking about Luke and pretty blond Sarah Blake. She kept hearing the same words over and over.
“Is it serious?”
“Maybe.”
Instead of going to Tybee, she drove across town to a little duplex with a sweet front yard, where roses grew over the metal fence.
When she knocked, Bonnie cracked the door, peering out cautiously. She wore pink pajamas and fluffy white slippers that looked like she’d killed two rabbits and stepped into their corpses.
Seeing Harper, she flung the door open.
“Hey!” But her smile faded as she clocked Harper’s expression. “Shit. Something happened. You better come in.”
Inside it was warm, and all the lights were on. She’d obviously been painting—the room smelled pleasantly of oil paints, and a wet canvas leaned against a wall in the small living room. The painting was of a redheaded child who looked a lot like Harper, dressed in midnight-blue velvet, wearing a crown made of daisies and holding an owl on her arm. It was disturbing and beautiful.
“I like that,” Harper said.
“It’s going to make me rich,” Bonnie predicted.
Her house was a tiny Victorian two-story. Two little bedrooms upstairs, a small living room and kitchen downstairs, with a bathroom at the back. The living room was crowded with furniture draped in bright throws and cushions. A fire had been burning earlier in the hearth: now, glowing embers were all that was left. It looked as though she’d been heading to bed.
“I’m keeping you up,” she said, embarrassed. “I should go.”
“Don’t you dare.” Bonnie shoved her gently onto the sofa and headed for the kitchen. “Stay right there. I’m getting wine.”
From the kitchen, Harper heard her open the refrigerator and pull out a bottle. “Isn’t this your night off?”
“Something like that,” Harper said.
Bonnie returned from the kitchen holding two glasses. She handed one to Harper. “I was meaning to call you anyway.” Bonnie dropped onto the other end of the sofa. “That gig on Wednesday night at the Library with Allegra Hanson—she didn’t cancel. It’s going to happen. I double-checked today.”
This was a surprise. The last time Harper saw her, Allegra seemed shattered.
“I’ll come along,” she decided. “Might learn something useful.”
“I thought you’d want to.” Bonnie studied her face. “Now—what about tonight?”
Harper blinked hard. “Luke’s dating a cop named Sarah Blake. She’s younger than me. And really cute.”
“Oh, hell.” Bonnie reached across to squeeze her hand. “He’s such an asshole. He really, really is.”
“I know.” Harper sank into the pink cushions. “At least now I don’t have to wonder if Luke found someone else. There is no if.”
“Well, it’s his loss,” Bonnie told her loyally. “That cop, cute or not, she’s no Harper McClain.”
“Yeah,” Harper said, thinking of the way it had felt when he’d put his arms around her. How she’d let herself wish again for the things she couldn’t have.
Bonnie was watching her with a worried crinkle between her blue eyes. Harper forced a weak smile. “Now might be a good time to tell you I’m going on a date with my ex-boss.”