“That sounds great, my careful girl,” he said, and kissed her hard, grinning like he’d gotten the gift of a lifetime, and she sure felt like she had.
“But I have to go home and get clean clothes, toiletries, my work stuff. I have events to cover this week, and I should review my notes at some point. Do you still want to go to the flea market today? I’d love to pick up some of my friend Leanna’s jam.”
“Ah, the famous Luscious Leanna’s Sweet Treats jam.”
“You know Leanna Remington?”
“I met Leanna and her husband, Kurt, through Drake and Serena. I wish I was into thrillers, because from what I hear, Kurt’s an amazing author. We’ll swing by your place to pick up your stuff and hit the flea market while we’re out.”
As they sat up, he took her hand and said, “I know this feels fast, Harp, but how many guys can say they wished at a fountain and their wish actually came true? I’m starting to believe in fate, and I don’t want to waste a second of our time together.” He must have seen the surprise in her eyes, because he said, “When we tossed our pennies into the fountain, I wished we could be more than a one-night stand.”
Her heart turned over in her chest, because she’d wished for almost the same thing. She’d wished he’d call. Little did she know she’d inadvertently hidden her phone number from him. They’d made their wishes in the fountain before they’d even slept together. For a guy who had thought he was getting a one-night stand to want more before they’d even had that made her believe in fate, too.
“You knew I was going away and you still wished for more?”
He pulled her to her feet and gathered her in his arms, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Yes, because what I had with you in just a few hours was more than anything I’d ever had before.” He brushed his lips over hers and said, “I knew one night couldn’t be it for us, so I wished that it was only the beginning of our story.”
WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Harper’s cottage, Gavin wrapped his arms around her from behind as she unlocked the door and said, “Would you mind if we cut a few flowers from your garden to bring to my place? My girlfriend loves flowers.”
“Great idea,” she said, turning to kiss him before pushing the door open. “Excuse the mess. I always print out my work when I’m reading through it the first time.”
There were papers spread out over her desk, coffee table, counters, and even on the couch cushions. Nearly every page was marked up in red ink, with notes scribbled in the margins.
“So this is what you do when you’re not at my place.”
“Not always,” she said as she gathered the papers. “This is what I do after most of the first draft is done. Your brilliant idea of using my experiences in LA for inspiration was just what I needed to get my creative juices flowing.”
“Which is awesome, but how do you work like this? Where do you sit?”
She shrugged. “Wherever. I’m used to it, and I can’t do this outside because, as you can imagine, a breeze would create havoc with my organization.”
“This is organized?” He raised his brow.
“If I had more space, I might set up tables or something, but this works for me.”
She was so selfless in her pursuit of her dreams, it made him want to give everything he had to help her achieve them. “I can’t wait to read what you’ve written.”
He reached for a piece of paper, and she grabbed his hand, stopping him.
“Uh-uh. You can’t read it until I tweak it.”
He pulled her in close and said, “Maybe I can entice you into sharing sooner.”
His lips came down over hers, and she returned his efforts eagerly, going up on her toes for more. His hands slid down to her backside as he deepened the kiss, and she melted against him. Man, he loved the way she reacted to him with all the same emotions he felt.
She pressed her hands to his chest, abruptly breaking their connection. “You might be able to charm my panties off, but you’re not going to read this until it’s a bit more polished.”
“Hold on to the charming your panties off thought for a second. That means your writing is good, right? Because when you thought your writing wasn’t your best, you let me read it.”
“I hope it’s good, but I don’t know for sure.”
He kissed her neck. “I could help you decide.”
“I can see this is going to take nerves of steel.” She stepped back, her cheeks flushed. She held her hand up like a barrier as she placed the papers she was holding on the desk. “It’s not fair to use that wicked mouth of yours to coerce me like that.”
He hauled her against him, loving the heat in her eyes and the giggle that slipped out. “How would you like me to use it? Like this?” He sealed his mouth over her neck, sucking hard, and she gasped a sharp breath. “Or maybe you prefer this?” He dragged his tongue down the center of her chest and tugged her top down so he could lick the swell of her breast.
“Gavin,” she said breathily. “We’re going to end up in the bedroom again.”
“And that’s bad because…?” He swore he saw her mind churning, like she was digging deep to come up with a reason.
“You’re right.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the bedroom. “There are worse addictions than having sex with my boyfriend.”
His chest constricted at how easily the endearment sailed from her lips.
As they tumbled down to the mattress in a tangle of gropes and hungry kisses, he intended to show her just how much more than an addiction he hoped to become.
AFTER MAKING GOOD use of the condoms they’d bought at the pharmacy in Provincetown, they showered again, packed up enough of Harper’s things for the next two nights, and cut flowers to take to his house. Harper put the flowers in a wide-bottomed vase that wouldn’t topple over in the car, and then they made their way to the Wellfleet Flea Market.
The flea market was held in the parking lot of the drive-in theater. It was bustling, with people moving in and out of the snack building and between vendor booths. Canopies were lined up as far as the eye could see. Colorful banners flapped in the breeze, and children darted in and out of the playground. Harper set the vase beside the car in the parking lot so the flowers wouldn’t die while they meandered through the market.
“Aren’t you worried someone will take those?” Gavin asked as they walked toward the colorful canopies, which brightened the overcast day.
“If they do, they need them more than we do.”
They strolled hand in hand through the market, checking out used books, jewelry, clothing, collectibles, and various arts and crafts. It was a balmy afternoon, the type of oppressive heat that begged the sky to open up and give relief.
“Wow, it looks like he emptied his garage over here.” Harper pulled him toward a booth with boxes of old records, tools, books, and a plethora of other miscellaneous items mixed in with furniture and Oriental rugs.
An older man with thin gray hair and skin like leather said “Howdy” as they approached. He sat in a folding chair with a scruffy dog at his feet.
“Hi,” Harper said as she blazed a path around boxes toward whatever she’d spotted. “Gavin, look.” She pointed to two decorative wooden plaques. A rustic chain with a mason jar hung from a large fishing hook at the top of each one. “You know those string lights they sell at the Christmas Store in Orleans? You could put those in the jars, and they’d go perfectly in your bedroom or even your living room, don’t you think?” Her eyes brimmed with excitement. “You know what? You could get a bunch of mason jars and use solar string lights along the path down to the dock at night.”