I’m shaking my head in denial before he’s even finished speaking. He can’t think like that. Ever. We obviously need each other. Otherwise, we both become desolate, useless zombies.
“But I didn’t go anywhere. I mean—” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yes, I stayed at Gretchen’s this week. But it wasn’t because I was trying to avoid you.”
I was trying to surprise you.
I peel my eyes back open to see the clouds on his face clear like they do after a bad storm.
“You were getting all of this ready,” he finishes, tipping his head toward the market.
I nod. “They called me the day after the gala, letting me know there was an opening. All thanks to you.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “All I did was fill out an application. You’re the one who had to make all of that, do all the work. Give yourself a little credit for once, Harper.”
Tentatively, I ease my body toward his. “But you’re still the one who believed in me enough to do that in the first place. Even after we broke up.”
His expression says he refuses to apologize. Not that I’m asking him to.
Hell, no. I owe him everything.
“You just needed someone to show you that you could,” he grates out. “You already hated me at that point. I figured it couldn’t make things any worse when you found out what I did.”
I can’t hear any more of his self-loathing. He’s the most thoughtful, considerate, beautifully kind-hearted man I’ve ever met.
I cup his cheek in my hand. He immediately leans into my touch. “I never hated you, West. Not for a second. I asked Gretchen and Sloane to bring you here today so I could show you that. And to say thank you.”
His eyes search mine. Even after everything he heard at the booth, I can still see the concern there. The hesitance to surrender to his own hope. “Did you really quit your job at the Foundation?”
“Yes.” I remove my hand from his cheek and run it nervously through my hair. “I’m going to try this full-time for now.” I wave back at the market. “I’ve already got orders coming in through my new website and Etsy. We’ll see how it goes.”
He snatches up my hand and places it on his chest. “I know you only push your hair back like that when you’re nervous or anxious. But you never have to be either around me. You know that, don’t you, princess?”
My fingers flex over his pec. “Yes.”
“The only time I ever want you anxious around me is when you’re waiting for me to fill you up. Right before I push inside you. That’s the only exception.”
Heat pools in my belly. “I think I can manage that.”
A smile begins to take shape, but he’s quick to stave it off. “And Shae?” The question comes out gravelly. “Your mother?”
Emotion clogging my throat, I shake my head.
His eyes fill with pain. “I never wanted you to lose them over me. I didn’t tell you about what Shae did the night of her birthday because I didn’t want to ruin that friendship for you.” His face hardens. “But I fucking hated the way she treated you, Harper. She wasn’t good enough for you. I saw the ways she hurt you, even if you didn’t. The night we broke up, I just wanted you to see that. Because she didn’t deserve to have you in her life. Neither of them do.”
God, this man.
I can’t possibly love him more than I already do.
I place my finger over his lips, silencing him. “I didn’t cut them out of my life over you. It needed to happen. I finally saw who they both are behind the veil because of you. You were right—they’ve never truly wanted me to be happy. Because then it wouldn’t always be about them. And I want to be happy, West. With you.”
His eyes slide shut. His hands snake around my waist, pulling me into him. “It can’t be this easy. It’s supposed to be harder to win you back.”
I smile. I can’t help it. He’s too adorable and sweet and ridiculously sexy. “You already did win me back. That’s what you’ve been doing these last four months. I’m the one who screwed up. I’m the one who was too blind and stupid to see what was right in front of me the whole time. And I’m the one who let you walk away. It’s supposed to be harder for me to win you back.”
His face softens. “I know taking this step wasn’t easy for you, princess. And I’m so goddamn proud of you.”
When was the last time anyone ever said that to me? Certainly not my mother or my father. It’s in this moment that it occurs to me how much I’ve needed someone to be proud of me, approve of my goals, support my dreams. Believe in them. And West always has. Without question. Without fail.
“I love you.”
He acts as if I just revealed the secret of life. Like every answer to every riddle in the universe was just laid at his feet, and he never has to question anything again. Like every problem he’ll ever face was just solved for him.
There’s relief. There’s humility. There’s—
“Then we’re definitely in the right spot,” he says, his chest vibrating with laughter. “Because this is where I fell in love with you. That first day in the market. How I fell even more in love after that day, I’ll never know. But I did.”
“Even after we broke up?”
His eyes narrow again, as if he doesn’t appreciate the reminder that we ever ended things. Because we never will again, his expression practically screams at me.
“After we broke up, I had to earn you,” he reasons. “I didn’t work hard enough for you in the beginning. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if you hadn’t liked what you’d seen. I was just a lucky bastard.”
I laugh, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
I definitely let my attraction to him be known within the first five minutes. Hell, we were making out and dry humping only eight hours later.
“I actually had to get to know you,” he goes on, tipping my chin up with his finger. “Living together gave me that opportunity. Which was why I never told you about the opt-out clause in our lease.”
I frown. “The what now?”
If there was ever a more mischievous look in a man’s eye than the one in West’s right now, I can’t imagine it. “Our landlord called me a few days after we broke up. Explained that there was some new state legislation that required all rental properties to have opt-out clauses in their leases. He added it in after we signed. We basically had ten days to back out of the contract without penalty or fines if we enacted the clause. I told him that wouldn’t be necessary.”
Oh, that little—
“Are you serious?” I smack his chest. “You never thought that was something I should have known?”
He tightens his hold on me, satisfaction emanating from his features. “If you had known, you would have taken that option, and I wouldn’t have learned all I did about you. And the more I learned, the more I loved.”
That softens some of the indignance swarming my veins. I guess I can’t really be mad, though. His sneakiness brought us back together, in a way. Plus, I was treated to months of watching him walk around shirtless, so...
“Everything I saw, everything I heard, was pure fucking torture.” His mouth forms a thin line. “But I couldn’t do anything about it. You weren’t ready. I mean, obviously, I failed at keeping my hands off. No man has that level of resistance. But believe me when I say I’ve been fucking desperate to tell you how much I love you ever since we signed that damn lease.”
I beam at him.
And like two lighthouses communicating with each other, his light beams right back like a beacon.
“I was so stupid,” I confess in a broken voice. “It’s all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t—”
He kisses me.
I moan at the contact, needing it more than I ever could have imagined. It’s as if he hasn’t touched me in years, instead of just over a week. I can feel the hard ridge in his shorts calling to me. Right on cue, my sex throbs for it, needing to be filled just as ferociously as he needs to be gripped.
“It doesn�
��t matter now,” he whispers. “None of it does. Let’s just get past it, so we can move forward.”
I nod eagerly, thankfully. I would have spent the next month straight apologizing for my stupidity if he’d needed to hear it. I would do anything to have him back in my life. Permanently.
He kisses me again. And this one leaves us both in a sweaty, gropey state.
“Now, how about we go home and come up with some more product names?” he pants after tearing his mouth away. “Those women will really be hot and bothered once they hear what I’ve got in mind.”
My expression is half smile, half wince. “Sorry, I’ve got to work.”
He stills. “You’re kidding me.”
But he can’t hold back his smile this time.
“I’ve got a business to run, flyboy.” I shoot him a wink. “Ever heard of ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’?”
“Ever heard of ‘absence makes the balls grow bluer’?”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Aw, don’t worry. They’ll return to normal by tonight. Then you’re going to be begging me to give them a break.”
He scoffs, looking offended by the implication. “Apparently, we still have more to learn about each other.”
I start to pull away, but then he gets a look on his face. One that stops me in my tracks.
“What?”
He hesitates for a second. “Tell me this is for real this time.” There’s a note of pleading in his voice that makes my insides ache. “Tell me you’re going to stay mine now. Because you need to understand that I’m not giving you up again. I’ve had enough of that bullshit. It’s not happening a third time.”
Damn my new job.
Because all I want to do now is devour him right here on this sidewalk, against the wall, in my car, in our bed.
I take his hand in mine and squeeze. “Neither of us is ever going anywhere again. We’ve got a lease to renew, remember?”
He grins, nodding slowly. “Damn right we do, princess. No opt-out clause necessary.”
I confirm that with another quick kiss.
He walks me back to my booth with mussed hair and stubble rash, to the giddy delight of my friends.
What I don’t tell him is that I don’t think I ever would have used that opt-out clause, even if I had known about it. Deep down, I hadn’t wanted to be separated from him any more than he’d been willing to let me go. Even back then, we’d known things weren’t over between us. We’d both just been too misguided and prideful to admit it.
And thank God for that.
Thank God he’d been wise enough to hide things from me.
But that’s one secret I’ll never tell him. He’ll never let me hear the end of it otherwise. And it looks like I’m going to be stuck with him for a long time.
Forever, most likely.
That’s a whole lot of new pranks to come up with.
Game on, flyboy.
Two months later
“If you didn’t want me to fuck you against this wall, then why did you wear that dress?” West pants against my mouth. His hips thrust against said dress, which is thankfully, still covering my thighs.
Or maybe not thankfully.
He’s working me into a frenzy and this is so not the place for one of our rendezvous in exhibitionism.
“So that you could peel it off of me later,” I answer breathlessly. “Not at our own celebratory party.”
His mouth quirks up in a half-grin. Then he grinds, grinds, grinds himself against me. The rush of arousal that rolls over me has me lightheaded and swaying in seconds.
“What if this is how I celebrate?”
A whimper escapes my mouth against my will. “That’s why we’re hosting our own private party at the house later. Champagne is optional. But nudity is required.”
My nipples are about to poke through my dress, I’m so feverishly hot. And the autumn temperatures aren’t doing anything to cool me off.
He chokes out a laugh. “I like the way you think, princess. But I still owe you payback for that little stunt this morning.”
I fight back a devious snicker. “Oh, come on. Toothpaste inside Oreos is classic. And serves you right for eating cookies for breakfast anyway.”
He growls as his mouth goes into attack mode against my neck. “You’re just lucky that mint chocolate happens to be my favorite flavor.”
I innocently bat my eyelashes up at him after he pulls back. “You still love me, though, right?”
He presses his forehead against mine. “More than you’ll ever fucking know. That first day in the market, I told you I needed more. Remember?”
I rub his arms comfortingly, while his hands squeeze my waist. “Yes.”
“I still do. And not just more. I need…everything. All of it. Everything you’ve got, princess, I need. So bad I ache for it all the damn time.”
I cup his cheek. “You have everything, West. It’s all yours.”
His eyes pierce mine. “Not yet I don’t. Marry me, Harper.”
It’s hard to swallow around my suddenly dry mouth.
It’s not the first time he’s asked, and it won’t be the last. He knows my answer isn’t no—hell, we both know with absolute certainty it’s going to happen. Just…not yet. Right now, all I’m saying is there’s no rush. We’re going to actually enjoy dating for a while because there’s really no hurry to sprint to the altar. And considering everything in our relationship up to this point has been crazy fast and ass backwards at times, I think we can afford to take some time and enjoy a slower pace.
“Ring or no ring,” I assure him, “you have all of me. We don’t have to make anything legal for that to be official. Every part of me is already yours.”
It’s the right thing to say to appease him, but the absolute wrong thing for this environment. All of our friends and family are on the other side of this wall. Our mutual satisfaction will have to wait until our naked festivities later tonight.
It takes some effort to pry him off my lips. But we eventually emerge from the corner he dragged me into minutes ago and rejoin the party on the roof of The Live Oak Tavern and Music Hall in downtown Charleston. Gretchen has some connection and was able to rent out the entire rooftop bar for this party.
A party to celebrate our two new companies.
Charleston Charter Service. Offering helicopter charters all over the Lowcountry.
And Harper West Products. Offering all-natural beauty and skincare products.
Turns out, West moving his home base to Mount Pleasant never became necessary because Mother backed off all of her threats. I still haven’t spoken to her since the gala, so I don’t know what prompted that decision. But I suspect it might have something to do with Dan.
Who recently hired Carter to handle their divorce.
And if you haven’t already guessed, Dan was the one who filed.
He was also the first one to invest in Charleston Charters. Followed by Carter and Gretchen’s boss, whom I’ve yet to meet. Thanks to the three of them, West was able to come up with enough capital to buy the helicopter from his former boss and officially open for business.
He flew his first charters this week.
And if you can believe it, one positive thing did actually come from Mother’s audacity at the gala. By announcing the launching of West’s charter service to a room of business executives, government officials, and other richie riches who have enough money to burn, people have been booking weekly charters left and right. In fact, West is already on the verge of having to hire an assistant to help organize the schedule and payments, as well as a maintenance technician to assist with pre-flight checks and general upkeep of his aircraft. He’s been so overwhelmed with how well things are already going, he’s been bouncing off the walls like a kid on a sugar high.
We both have.
Harper West Products has been kicking ass and taking names. So much so that I’m working with a realtor right now to try and find me a retail space. My overflow of inventory has ta
ken over our house and Gretchen’s loft, and the number of orders I’m receiving has justified opening a physical location. My products are also gaining recognition on social media, gifting me with tens of thousands of followers already. We were even featured on Lowcountry Home magazine’s Top Ten Small Businesses of the South list.
Gretchen was right. About my business, about West’s. No wonder she’s landing new accounts at the ad firm like crazy. She’s got an eye for pinpointing success.
Strangely, though, Gretchen is the only person missing from this party.
Gaze flitting over the roof, I spot Sloane and Carter talking hand-in-hand with Seth and Todd. Emerson and Quinn are chatting near the bar. A few of Carter’s friends are milling about, along with Dan, my realtor, Sloane’s father and stepmother, and West’s old boss.
West’s entire family should also be arriving any minute, hence my jittery nerves as we approach our friends. West doesn’t remove his arm from my waist as we move from conversation to conversation. He’s reassured me about ten thousand times that his parents and sisters already love me just from hearing him talk about me. But this is the first time I’ll officially meet them, and I want them to…approve. No, I shouldn’t care whether or not anyone else approves of my dating West.
But I won’t lie. I want to impress them.
I want them to wink at him when I’m not looking and tell him he’s found a good one.
To tease me about why such a nice girl like me is with a jokester like him.
To ask when the wedding is.
I want all that fun, family ribbing that’s said half-jokingly, and that’s certainly not something I’ll ever get from my own family. I just…want to fit in somewhere. I want the Devereaux’s to accept me, tell me that I belong with them.
I want them to be proud to claim me.
Like West is.
I brace myself when the door to the roof all of a sudden bursts wide open. I expect his sisters to come barreling through and make a beeline for me so they can finally inspect me with their own eyes.
But instead of a biologist or a women’s college basketball coach or two former hippies, Gretchen marches onto the scene. Gretchen, looking frantic and frazzled, the likes of which I’ve never seen from her. Didn’t even think it was possible.
The Six Month Lease (Southern Hearts Club Book 2) Page 24