“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a bad idea. I liked Savana. She was fun, interesting. I liked who I was when I was around her. Plus, she’d introduced me to Lawson. “Maybe. But even if that doesn’t work out, I’ll be fine.”
He smiled in that universal Dad way. Head canted. Eyes sorrowful but proud. The one that told me he couldn’t believe we were here and that I was his adult daughter and that, yeah, I might be okay by myself for a few days.
“I know, sport.” He leaned over, kissed my forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” Pulling back, he whispered, “You know that?”
I nodded and he opened the door. “I’ll text when I get there.”
“Okay.”
“If you need anything, if anything comes up,” he said, collecting his luggage from the backseat, “let me know. Bills are paid. Fridge and cabinets are stocked.”
“Okay.”
“I left a debit card in my top drawer in case you need anything. Use it.”
“I will.” The conversation felt mechanical, rehearsed, though it was anything but. My dad was leaving, and I was in an unfamiliar city. He was going home. The home I knew, where I’d grown up, the home that would always be home to me. I didn’t know whether to be sad or jealous. Throw in the sense of confusion still lingering at the edges of my mind, and I had a large cup of emotional overkill.
I stayed put, watching him through the rearview as he walked around to the driver’s side. I knew he’d want to do his dad thing, hug me goodbye. And true to form, he didn’t disappoint. My feet had barely touched the pavement, the humid air snagging my breath, before he wrapped me in his arms and held on as if his flight wasn’t scheduled to board in less than an hour.
This time, I did open my mouth and said something, even gave him a little nudge. In response, he pulled me in closer, squeezing me tighter until I could literally count his heartbeats. Hugging me the way he used to.
After pressing his lips to the top of my head, then my temple, he waved me back inside the car and waited for me to buckle up. Snatched up the luggage resting against his leg, his gaze focused on the bustle on the other side of the windows.
“See ya, sport. Love you.” With an abrupt shove, he shut my door and made for the sliding glass doors.
He didn’t look back.
“Love you, too,” I whispered.
I didn’t listen to the radio on the way home. My brain was talkative enough, though, really, almost nothing since the abrupt ending of dinner made an ounce’s worth of sense.
Walking into the house—something I’d done plenty of times—didn’t help. If anything, the anxiety I usually left outside wrapped itself around me like an intruder. I closed my eyes, intent on calming myself. After such a rollercoaster day, it stood to reason I’d be out of sorts. In fact, had I felt any less all over the place, I’d probably have real cause for worry.
Which was why I declared myself “fine,” locked the door, climbed the stairs and headed straight for the shower; my favorite place of refuge when my thoughts haunted me. Twenty minutes later, I sat cross-legged in the center of my bed, dressed in my version of PJ’s: a t-shirt and sleep shorts.
And then I called Lawson for the first time.
He answered on the second ring.
“Hi.”
Something about hearing his voice pierced through the wall of peace I thought I’d built.
“Harper? Is everything okay?” His voice was full of concern and, unless I was mistaken, relief.
“Yeah.” Shaking. I was shaking, eyes brimming with tears. “Yeah,” I said again, “I’m good. My dad…he had to go back to Ohio for a few days.”
“What? Why?”
I explained the whole new teacher thing and Dad’s promise to help, if they needed him.
“Didn’t you say he’s a professor at the community college?”
“Full-time.” I sighed, remembering the way he’d lashed back at me when I’d pointed out the irresponsibility of leaving without notice. I didn’t doubt he’d call them. Make arrangements for another teacher to cover his classes. Still. It was out of character for my strict, punctual, you’d-better-be-barfing-up-a-lung-if-you-don’t-show-up father. He was partially at fault for the firm standards I put on myself.
“Wow. I’m…I’m sorry, Harper. Are you okay? Sorry, I already asked you that.”
A soft laugh. “You did, but thanks. Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little stunned. It was unexpected.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Lawson said quietly, and I could imagine him sitting on his couch, a guitar in his lap. Bet he’d stopped playing when I’d called, so he could talk to me. “So, now you’re by yourself for…ever how long he’s away?”
“Looks like it.” I drew in a breath, tamped down the tide of emotion that came in the aftermath of shock. “Any ideas on what I can do to pass the time? Without Dad, I’m already looking at days, possibly weeks of pop tarts and fast food. Good for local business, bad for the waistband of my jeans.”
He laughed and then…silence. A moment passed. When he spoke, his voice had dropped a clear octave. “I have a few ideas. All of which include you being here with me.”
Just like that, we were back where we were only a handful of hours ago. Closer than two people who’d only recently met should probably be yet drawn together like magnets. Fighting the pull would’ve been a useless endeavor.
My heart expanded inside my chest, and I set a hand there, as if to contain it from bursting out and plopping on my comforter. “That’s…that’s an idea.”
I couldn’t believe what I was saying, what I was thinking.
“How about this,” he said as electricity skimmed over my skin, twirled around veins, “you pack a bag and I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Yes.
That was my thought. My only thought.
What was happening? The rational part of my brain screamed, Slooow your roll, Evans. You can’t just move in and play house with someone you’ve known for five seconds! Because truth: it took longer to nurture a Ziploc bag of Amish Friendship Bread. But my heart, my swift-beating, swollen heart reasoned it was just for a few days. A sleepover that lingered longer than a single night. No big deal. We were grownups. Could make adult decisions.
I found myself nodding against the phone. “Okay,” I said. “I can do that.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m on my way. See you soon.”
I practically leapt from my bed, struggling to figure out my next move. Packing clothes to stay with the boy I liked turned out to be harder than Mr. Tipton’s sophomore advanced World Civics class. And that, by far, was the worst experience I had as a high school student. Learning the rights and obligations of citizenship in a hundred different countries, for me, was akin to standing in the plumbing aisle at Lowes while Dad tried to determine which size PVC fitting went with which PVC fitting.
By the time the doorbell rang, I’d jammed almost my entire closet and chest of drawers into the only suitcase I owned: a hot pink overnighter with flowers and hearts. Nothing screamed going-to-grandma’s more, which might’ve made sense if I’d had a grandma. As a girl on her way to Cambridge, however, it was just plain pathetic.
No doubt he heard my groan of frustration as I battled with running back to my room to dump at least half of what I’d packed. The guy hadn’t exactly asked me to move in with him, after all. One look at the 3-D effect of those daisies and hearts, thanks to my whole wardrobe bulging the fabric behind them, and I wouldn’t blame him for hightailing it back to his truck and leaving me in a cloud of dust. To lessen the chance, I decided to ditch the bag next to the stairs before heading to the door. At least that way, I wouldn’t have as far to drag it if he changed his mind.
As soon as I opened the door, I knew he hadn’t.
Lawson looked ridiculous-handsome in dark jeans and a heather gray t-shirt. He stood on my front doorstep, fingers jammed in the front pockets of his jeans, a smile on his face he tried to hold back by biting his lower lip.
“Wow,
didn’t I just see you a few hours ago?” I said, feigning confusion.
“Did you?” His brow furrowed, but he was smiling in earnest, and my lungs were working overtime.
“Just couldn’t stay away.” I shook my head. “What am I gonna do with you?”
He shrugged, rocked back on his heels. “You really wanna go there? I have an expansive imagination.” As my cheeks pinkened, he said, “I think I’m detectin’ a southern accent weavin’ in with that Ohio, Columbus. You’d better watch out. Before long, you’ll be saying things like tater salad and I’m fixin’ to go to the Walmart, y’all need anything?”
I pressed my lips together. Set a hand to my hip. “Don’t bet on it, Louisiana boy. Come on inside. I’ve just gotta grab my toothbrush.”
He followed, but his hand on my arm stopped me before I could make for the bathroom and the small bag of toiletries I’d scrounged together.
Looking down at me, he said, “There’s something I need to take care of first,” and reeled me in, close.
Our bodies touched, and warmth bloomed in my belly. The air around us thickened. His eyes were soft, beautiful, and I wanted to drown in him, in his nearness, in his depth. I settled on breathing in the scent of his cologne.
“Thanks for rescuing me.” I looped my arms around his neck, which felt natural, right. “Not that I needed rescuing.”
“Didn’t you?” His breath wafted across my face as his hands held my waist.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Do you have a habit of rescuing girls with fathers who leave them?”
The edge of his mouth twitched. “I can’t even rescue myself half the time, Columbus. Wouldn’t bank on my ability to rescue anyone else.”
“But here you are,” I whispered in reply.
“Here I am.” His voice was such a soft, sexy timbre, my knees buckled a little.
“Lawson—”
“Can’t wait.” He released his hold on my waist to cup my cheeks between his palms. Traced my bottom lip with that same calloused thumb he used to make his beautiful music.
I stiffened at first. I didn’t know why I stiffened. It’d been a long time since I’d been kissed. Senior year, prom, and it wasn’t the greatest. Definitely not memorable.
But Lawson, damn, he knew how to kiss.
I melted into him. His lips brushed mine, warm, soft and the tension in my body relaxed. I needed this. Wanted it. I hadn’t realized how badly, until he pressed harder, parting my lips, and a small moan flitted from my mouth to his.
Lawson. Lawson. His tongue slid against mine, sweet and minty, as if he’d popped a piece of spearmint gum on the way over, then spit it out before knocking on my door. His hands were hot against my face, his lips a pair of expert craftsmen, retreating, kissing softly, exploring patiently, before returning to sink deeper.
My hands moved up his neck into his hair, soft and thick, just as I imagined. I pushed closer, until there wasn’t an inch of air between us. Opened my mouth wider, relishing his soft groans, his hands roaming along my shoulders and down my back. He was patient. Careful. Reverent—as if I were someone precious, someone he cherished, someone he trusted.
It took several incessant buzzes from his phone to break the spell. Still he lingered, swept his lips across mine once more, a gentle, tender kiss, before he pulled back. I opened my eyes. And thought I might cry. The emotion was overwhelming. His eyes were dark, his lips pink from our kiss.
God that was good.
Too good.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’ve gotta take this.” His watch winked in the light of the foyer as he lifted his phone to his ear and turned away. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
He was busy. I understood. That he came here to be with me, suggested I stay with him while Dad was gone, was nothing short of a true sign of his limitless generosity. It was no wonder everyone loved him, no surprise reporters often began questions with, Now, you’re known for how good you are to your fans…
He was good to everyone. Including me. And we’d only just met.
And kissed.
I headed for the bathroom to grab my toiletry bag. After that kiss, there was no way I couldn’t go with him, if he still wanted my company. His work would probably consume most of his attention, and I already knew I’d have to respect that and give him space whenever he needed it. I’d want the same respect for myself. Like Dad said, we needed to know each other’s goals if we were going to be in a relationship.
Or friendship.
Or whatever this was. We needed to know.
Everything.
By the time I made it back to the foyer, Lawson was already off the phone, my suitcase in-hand, without a single snarky remark on its appearance or weight. This time, I wasn’t greeted with his easygoing smile.
I hesitated on the last step. Stood still and let him take in my hastily dressed appearance with his eyes: My favorite Ohio State hoodie with the missing string, the black leggings I pulled on over my sleep shorts, and my black Converse—not as cool as his.
“We’re doing this, yeah?” he said, unknowingly easing the last of my tension with words spoken as more of a given than a question.
Confidence restored, I moved toward him until the toes of our shoes nearly touched. “Yep. Just gotta lock up.”
chapter ten
Being in Lawson’s home again shaved off another level of tension I had left over from Dad’s departure. I’d been there once. Once. But the smells were already familiar. Leather, pine and Lawson’s cologne. I inhaled deeply, filling myself with him.
The sound of Lawson’s sneakers on the hardwood floors, the click of the door sealing us in. All of it felt cozy to me, safe. A gentle tugging at my soul. My gaze lifted to the shiny, framed records up the staircase and I sighed inwardly, smiled.
“So, the guest bedroom is across from mine. Hope that’s okay.”
I blew out a steady breath. We were doing this. A temporary situation, sure, but a sound decision, nonetheless.
“Of course.” I found myself focused on his mouth. Remembering the kiss from earlier. Is this how it would be? Thinking about it every second, until it happened again, if it happened again? And if it did, which I desperately hoped it would, would it feel the same?
Gosh, he had a gorgeous mouth.
Following him upstairs was like moving inside a dream. Feet moving without touching, a surreal, is-this-really-happening transition from point A to point B.
Maybe I was tired.
Maybe I was overwhelmed.
Hasty decisions weren’t my vibe. But I felt more comfortable with Lawson than I’d ever felt with anyone.
“Right here,” he said, and I couldn’t help but glance first at the door across the short expanse of hall. His door. His room beyond the door. Where he laid down, closed his eyes and slept. Where he undressed, showered—
“You have your own bathroom, fresh towels and toiletries, if you need them.” In the guest room, he set my suitcase and laptop bag (thank goodness I’d remembered it and my charger) on a tufted settee at the foot of the bed.
I looked around, lips parted. Shocked yet telling myself I shouldn’t be shocked, because what did I expect? A set of bunk beds and a tv with rabbit ears? Mattress on the floor and peeling wallpaper? These walls were a muted gray, the beamed ceilings white and vaulted like something inside a log cabin. Save for the large gray space rug covering most of the floor and several throw pillows, the room was white. White couch, white armchair, white lampshades, white bedsheets and curtains.
“No one’s ever slept in this room.” Lawson went to the elegant paned windows that spanned the entirety of one wall.
There were trees beyond, though hard to make out in the dark. Lawson’s shoulders lifted and fell as he gazed outside. He folded his arms across his chest, fingers gripping his biceps.
I wanted to grip his biceps.
“I definitely won’t be eating anything with ketchup in this room,” I said. “Or chocolate.”
He turned halfway to look at m
e, one eyebrow quirked. “We can always make an exception for chocolate.”
Heat crept into my cheeks and I tugged at the hem of my hoody. Wished I’d thought to dress cuter, make an effort. But everything between me and Lawson felt effortless. Like I could be me, the real me, bummed out to the max, hair tossed up in a messy bun, and he was cool with that.
The way he looked at me told me he was more than cool with that.
“What are you thinking?” I asked softly.
He took a moment longer to stare before inhaling a shallow breath. “I already told you.”
Yes, he had.
I shrugged, toed off my shoes. Re-tied my bun. Busied myself to hide my nervousness. “I know you want to know more about me, but there’s not much more to tell. I’ve lived a pretty uneventful life.”
“That can’t be true.” He moved for the bed, sat down, half on, half off, one leg bent on the mattress, the other dangling off the side.
Lawson wasn’t a tall man, but this bed was monstrous. He looked like a model sitting there. Expensive jeans, expensive shirt, expensive hair and a smile that set off glittering fireworks in my stomach. How many women, I wondered, had been this close to him? Had seen him like this?
We were both fully clothed. Several feet apart. And yet the room felt steeped in intimacy.
Doesn’t matter. That’s what I told the voice of fear whispering inside my head. My father was gone. I had no one I knew here, save for Savana. Lawson suggested I stay with him. It wasn’t a big deal. And it didn’t matter what women were in his past.
I was the woman in his present.
The thought gave me the courage to join him on the bed. I sat on the opposite side, legs drawn in, Indian style. “Go ahead. Ask me questions. Something you didn’t find on Google.”
He laughed, rubbed his jaw. “I was wondering when that would come up.”
“Hey, I can’t say much. I did the same thing to you.”
“You and eleventy-billion other people.” His eyebrows pulled together, his eyes glistening. “It’s impossible to keep even an ounce’s worth of a private life anymore. I’m under a magnifying glass 24/7.”
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