2
Harper
I spend all morning cleaning, preparing for Cora’s arrival. I make up the guest rooms and put fresh towels in the closet. Lyla is in town dealing with wedding stuff, so Cora dutifully told her not to worry about picking her up at the airport. She should be arriving anytime, and I’ll be greeting her and showing her around until my sister makes it back.
I finish up in the bathroom and make my way down to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of lemonade before stepping out onto the porch. Deciding this is the best place to wait for everyone, I take a seat on the porch swing and scroll through my phone when someone catches my attention from the corner of my eye. I look up to see a man walking up the driveway. He’s still a way’s off, and then he stops, looking around. He’s alone, and doesn’t seem to be from around here.
Maybe he’s a new employee? No, he doesn’t look the part. Maybe he’s visiting the farm and got lost? He does look like he’s from the city. I watch him for a few more minutes. He checks his watch and then adjusts the strap on his shoulder. I look up and down the driveway for a car but see nothing.
“Can I help you?” I finally call out.
Startled, he looks up in my direction. I have to shield my eyes from the sun to get a better look. He’s standing too far away to see much. The man starts walking in my direction and I grow a little nervous. It’s times like these I wish someone was around.
“I think I’m in the right place,” he calls back to me.
I stand from the swing and step to the edge of the porch to get a better look at him. I’d be lying if I didn’t say the first thing I noticed was his tight pants. His jeans sit low on his hips and hug from his thighs all the way down to his calves. Oh yeah, he definitely isn’t from around here. Those are city pants, for sure. So is that haircut. The man’s hair is shorter on the sides and longer on top, slicked back in place a little with one of those hard parts. Classic but apparently coming back into trend. He only has a little stubble, which is a blessing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to see his devastating jawline. As he gets closer to the porch, I can’t help but take in his sheer beauty. And I’m not sure I’ve ever called a man beautiful before. As least not a real one.
“Who are you looking for?” I ask, folding my arms over my middle to protect myself from, well, I don’t know. He just looks like the kind of man you need to protect yourself from.
He fishes for something in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I was told to ask for Harper?” he says, presumably scrolling through looking for the information. But why the hell is he looking for me?
“What do you want with her?” I ask, not sure I want to give myself away just yet.
“She won a prize,” he says.
“I did?” I asked, more confused than excited.
“Well, no. But at least I know you’re who I’m looking for,” he says.
Damn, he got me. If I had to guess, he’s maybe my age or a year or two younger. “I’m Harper,” I say.
He steps onto the porch, bringing himself face to face with me, but not really because he’s probably seven or more inches taller than me. He looks down at me, and it’s the first time I can really see his bright gray eyes. “I’m Jensen,” he says. “Cora’s brother.”
Oh. Ohhhhhhh, yes, okay. Not a leper. Definitely not a leper. But no, not okay. Because I can’t have this kind of hot guy just hanging around here for the next two weeks either. Excuse me, not even hot. Beautiful. Like actually beautiful. I’m already an emotional train wreck.
“Oh, nice to meet you,” I say, putting my hand between us for a shake.
He studies me for a second, a smirk on his face. I watch his shoulder shrug, and his bag falls effortlessly to the porch. He reaches for my hand, his arm flexing all the way up, his tight T-shirt doing nothing to conceal his form.
On the other hand, having something to look at for a few days might not be so bad. His large hand envelops mine, and its warmth spreads through me.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he says, a wide smile spreading across his lips.
“So, where did you come from?” I ask.
“Um, well, I’m originally from Boston like Cora but—”
I laugh. “No, I mean just now? You were walking.”
Jensen starts to nod his head, understanding my question. “I had my Uber driver drop me off at the end of the driveway, but to be fair that’s because I didn’t know the driveway was like, a whole additional road. So I had to basically hike the damn thing.”
I laugh again, looking down at Jensen’s once pristine white tennis shoes, now covered in a layer of fine dirt. A dusting, really. “You can probably save your tennis shoes,” I say, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing at his misfortune.
He looks down at his feet, his eyes growing wide. “I just bought these sneakers, too.”
“You call them sneakers?”
“You call them tennis shoes?”
“Interesting,” I say. We stare at each other for a moment, unsure what to say, and I watch him reach for his bag again. “Oh, I can take you back to the cabin if you want, so you can put those up. Or you can leave them here on the porch until your sister arrives? I thought you’d be arriving together?”
“No, I had to travel in from a business conference in Raleigh,” he says.
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I’m in pharmaceutical sales,” he says, and I didn’t see that coming. I’m a little impressed. Also a little intimidated.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask him.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he says.
Slightly embarrassed at my lack of hospitality due to my general distracted thoughts of him, I retrieve a glass of lemonade for him and we sit on the porch swing to wait for his sister, or literally anyone else. Lyla, Gentry, the Pope. Anyone will do. I need a buffer.
I watch him sip the lemonade at first, and then it turns to gulps. I watch his throat muscles work down the liquid and for a moment I’m transfixed by his Adam’s apple. I shake my head. Holy crap. I’ve got to get ahold of myself.
“Looks like we’ve got some time to kill, Harper,” he says, and I like the way my name sounds when he says it. I can’t explain why. The inflection, the tone, I don’t know what it is. Like it could be a song. “So, tell me about yourself.”
Oh no.
3
Jensen
I watch Harper shift in her seat. Well, in the swing we’re sharing. I can’t be sure but I think asking her to tell me about herself has made her uncomfortable, and I don’t know why.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell,” she says, her head down, a curtain of golden blonde hair covering her face.
And may I just add, it’s a gorgeous fucking face. I’m not a blind man. Anyone who didn’t notice her beauty definitely had to be. Harper has piercing blue eyes, and I do mean piercing. Even from a bit of a distance, it felt like she was looking into my soul. Her long blonde hair is straight but not lifeless. It cascades off her shoulders like a golden waterfall and I’ve stopped myself from touching it three times already. But her lips. Her pale pink lips look so full and soft. She has those naturally full lips, and I think bad things when I look at it so I’m trying really hard not to look at it.