I watch as goosebumps trail up her arm and I unlace my fingers from hers. Slowly backing away, I give her my signature Jensen smile. Not the one I give my customers or clients. Not the one I give family or friends. I give her the one I give specifically when I’m trying to seal the deal with a woman. That’s what I’m trying to show her after all, right?
Her leg wobbles just a fraction and she swallows. “Um, me too.”
I back away from her and toward the steps of the porch. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All right.”
“Goodnight, Harper.”
“Goodnight,” she says. She’s still staring at me, her eyes fixed on some spot on my face.
I head down the stairs and back toward the cabin, the night sky so bright with stars, I can’t take my eyes off it.
If I have to guess, Harper has finally gone inside. She’s such an interesting person. I’ve met a lot of people while traveling and in my line of work, but no one quite like her. That’s what I love about traveling in general. No two people are the same, although you get your types. But Harper, she’s so delicate. And I have an appreciation for that.
I get back to my room in the cabin and undress, peeling out of my jeans and shirt. I’m not too proud to admit that even men assess themselves and their flaws in the mirror. I haven’t been to the gym in almost a month and I can see the toll already. My work schedule has been pretty hectic, but it’s about to slow down. Maybe I’ll ask Gentry if there’s a gym around here tomorrow.
I flex in the mirror and poke at my stomach. Still flat but softer than it was when the carbs were less frequent and the gym was more often. I shrug, knowing in the grand scheme I’m probably the only one able to see what I see anyway. That’s not arrogance talking, just a willingness to remind myself we all see ourselves in a different light than everyone else.
I lie back on the bed and my phone dings.
Harper: Okay. I get it now.
Me: I will teach you how to use the force. Worry not.
Harper: Are you speaking Jedi?
Me: Obviously.
Harper: Okay. How about I’m Eminem and you’re Dr. Dre instead?
What the hell? I stare at my phone in awe. I mean, that’s probably the coolest analogy ever, but I never would’ve expected it from her.
Me: Doesn’t everyone down here just listen to country?
Harper: Um, no.
Me: I’m impressed yet again.
I set my phone down. Maybe Harper isn’t that much of a lost cause after all. She probably just needs a few reminders. Her self-esteem seems like it could use a serious boost. I can’t imagine what her husband leaving her for another woman did to her confidence. But she should be confident.
Again, she just needs reminding. And I can definitely help her with that.
7
Harper
Let’s just say the past two days have been interesting. From the moment Jensen did his flirty fake goodnight whatever on the porch, he’s been…interesting. We’ve continued to play the getting-to-know-each-other game, divulging random facts to each other throughout the day either by text or when we’re together in person. Some are trivial, some more serious. Our favorite snacks, how our first kisses went down, our celebrity crushes, and whatever else the mood calls for.
As if that’s not enough, he fucking flirts with me. And he expects me to flirt back. Which I’ve discovered I’m horrible at, except when I’m impressing him with how many Eminem lyrics I’ve memorized and can recite. Of course, I can’t rap them fast like he can, but I know them by heart all the same.
“What’s in two days again?” Jensen asks me as we walk a trail through the property.
“The bridal luncheon.”
“Where women have tea and sandwiches on the lawn?” he asks.
“This isn’t a country club,” I say, laughing. “More like, women eating platters of meat and doing shots of bourbon in a plowed corn field.”
“Wow, okay. Party time,” he says.
“Pretty much.” I laugh, recalling my own bridal luncheon. One decent memory I have because Charles wasn’t involved.
“Wait, does this mean you’re going to get drunk?” he asks.
I nod. “Probably.”
“Are you gonna drunk text me? Or want to make out?” He pokes his elbow into my ribs.
“What? Oh my god, no.” As I say it, I feel my cheeks getting hot.
“You know, maybe liquor will be just what you need to be a little more flirtatious.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” When I look over at him, I notice he’s stopped.
Jensen’s staring out over the back field, at all the sunflowers in full bloom. “Wow,” he says. “This is incredible.”
I look out over the field, the heads of the tall sunflowers bobbing as the breeze passes through them. “They are pretty.”
“I read somewhere that they face the sun, but when they can’t find the sun they face each other.”
“As beautiful as that is, it’s not true,” I say.
“No?”
“Unfortunately not. By the time they’re full grown, they’re pretty well stationary but will follow the sun a little.”
“They’re pretty like you. And I don’t know why, but they feel kind of shy. Like you,” he says.
“You think I’m pretty like a sunflower?”
“Yes. Somehow so grand but understated. A little overlooked, or underappreciated. Maybe that’s what I mean,” he says.
I know I’m blushing at this point. I feel the heat over my cheeks, spreading down my chest. “And shy, too?”
“Yeah. Like, you don’t realize you’re a sunflower,” he says. “Look at that field. So breathtakingly beautiful, just existing, but content just following the sun.”
I swallow hard. He said breathtakingly beautiful. Whoa. That’s a bit more than pretty. I don’t know that anyone’s ever called me something like that. Of course, he’s got the “content” part wrong. Very wrong, I think. I feel it more and more each day.
Jensen looks at me, pulling his eyes from the flowers as he smirks.
“Content,” I whisper.
“What?” he asks.
“You said content.”
“You’re not?” he asks.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” he asks as we turn, continuing our walk toward the main house.
“I’m not sure why exactly. I guess if I knew why, I could fix it. I’ve just felt less and less content with my life every day since Charles left. Not because he left, necessarily. I don’t think his return would make me feel more content. Just in general, like I’m missing something.”
“Maybe you should try new things, see new places. Meet new people until something clicks,” he suggests, like it’d be so easy to just leave and go somewhere else.
Where would I even start? “Where would I go?” I ask aloud.
“Wherever you want.” He shrugs. “That’s the beauty of being an adult with nothing tying you down. You can fly free.”
I think about his words as we approach the porch. Lyla and Gentry fly out of the side door in a hurry.