by Amber Garza
“Okay. Sounds good. Thanks.”
The nurse returns with my paperwork. After I take it, Harper leaves the room so I can change back into my clothes. I get out of the bed, feeling a breeze at my back where the hospital gown exposes my backside. When I see the bag with my clothes inside I suppress a laugh. My clothes are only slightly better than the gown. It’s a pair of swim trunks and a tank top. I’m guessing one of my co-workers brought the tank since I was shirtless when I went into the water. In one fluid movement I yank off the gown and toss it aside. Then I put on my clothes and meet Harper in the hall.
She raises her brows, appraising me as she leans against the wall. “You have the whole lifeguard look down pat.”
I smirk. “Is that your way of saying you think I’m hot?”
She laughs as if what I said was ridiculous, but pink spots appear on her cheeks.
“Because if so,” I continue, “the feeling is mutual.” Reaching out, I finger the edge of the sleeve of her short pink sundress. “I mean, when you showed up at the hospital wearing this little number, were you trying to finish me off?”
Harper glances down at her pink dress and gold sandals, revealing the sexiest pair of feet I’ve ever seen. I never thought I was a foot guy, but her slender feet with the perfect little toes have turned me into one. Hell, this girl is ruining me. I like every inch of her sexy body. “I didn’t even notice what I was wearing,” she says. “This is what I had on when I got the phone call.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t change. I like it.” I nudge her in the shoulder. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice. I hate the hospital.” She exhales and pushes off the wall.
The gesture cuts to my heart. I sling an arm over her shoulder. “Thanks again for coming. I had no idea Lewis would call you.”
“It’s okay. I’m kinda glad he did.”
“You are?” I’m surprised by her admission.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t elaborate, just walks forward.
Damn, this girl is mysterious. I scramble to catch up to her, feeling even more drawn to her than minutes earlier. I swear this chick will be the death of me. Her bare, shapely legs move swiftly down the hallway. We pass nurses and doctors hurrying by, files and clipboards tucked under their arms. A woman wheels an old man in a wheelchair next to us. Even he notices Harper, stealing a glance at her legs and raising a brow. She has absolutely no idea how hot she is, and damn if that doesn’t make her that much hotter.
Suddenly I’m happy that I almost died today. It was worth it to bring her back to me. And knowing that she’s glad to be here too, makes it that much better.
The sun blinds me when we head outside. My head is still pounding, and as we make our way across the lot I feel sweat beading under the bandage on my head. Harper drives a little blue Honda. When I slide into the passenger seat I inhale her familiar scent. It permeates her car.
I give her directions as we pull out of the parking lot. It isn’t difficult. I live fairly close to the hospital, and when I tell Harper my street she says she’s familiar with the area. As she heads down the street I turn to face her. “Hey, when we get to my house I’d rather not tell my mom what happened?”
“Don’t you think she’ll notice the bandage?” Harper reaches into the center console while she drives, her fingers searching for something.
“Need something?” I ask.
“My sunglasses.”
I lift them up and hand them to her. She squints as she places them over her eyes. “Thanks.”
“Is the bandage really that noticeable?” I joke, knowing that it’s covering my head.
Harper giggles. Hell, even her laugh is sexy. I find myself entranced by it. “Yeah, I don’t think there’s any way around that.”
“Okay. So I’ll tell her I hit my head. But I’m not going to tell her about the hospital or the near drowning.”
“Can I ask why?” Harper keeps her eyes trained on the road, her hands on the wheel.
I squirm in my seat. “Um…well, my mom doesn’t cope well with things. She kinda hasn’t since my dad died. She’s sort of, well…she’s really depressed. Like seriously depressed.”
Harper nods still looking forward. “I get that.”
“Yeah, I guess you do.” I’ve never believed in soul mates or any crap like that, but in this moment I’m rethinking my position on that. Harper seems to be made for me.
“Grief is a funny thing. No one ever tells you how to behave. There’s no manual or how to guide. We all have to find our way.” Harper’s eyes flicker to mine. “How long ago did your dad die?”
“It’s been three years.” I snort. “You’d think my mom could move on by now, but she’s sort of stuck.”
“It’s been a lot more than three years since Heather died, and it’s still hard for our family. In fact, my mom is just now cleaning out her room. We’ve kept it the same all this time. It’s like we were waiting for her to come back or something. How sick is that?”
“Not sick. Sad, maybe, but definitely not sick. My mom slept on the couch for months after Dad passed because she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in bed without him. And she never could look at his stuff again. Eventually I had to clean out their room and get rid of his stuff.”
“That must’ve been hard on you,” Harper’s tone is so understanding it almost breaks me.
“Nah. It was fine. I did what I had to.”
“Is that why you still live at home? To take care of her?”
I shrug. “She needs me.”
She turns on my street and nears my house. All the curtains are drawn, and my stomach clenches. Mom’s getting worse every day. I keep holding out hope that she’ll snap out of it, but it seems to be more serious than that.
“My house is right here.” I point to it, feeling a little sick. Harper parks along the curb right out front. As I push open the passenger door, I turn to Harper. “You know. You don’t have to come inside. I’ll be fine.”
She gives me a wry smile. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Damn, she’s feisty. My heart flip flops in my chest. “No. Trust me. I definitely don’t want to get rid of you.”
“Good because I’m not leaving an injured man on his doorstep. I may have been a total asshole the other night, but I don’t plan to repeat the performance.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re cute when you get all pushy like this?”
She blushes and looks downward. Biting my lip, I resist the urge to grab her face in my hands. So badly I want to kiss her like I did that day on our hike. But I don’t want to push it. Not today. Not when she’s just stepped back into my life. I clear my throat and step out of the car. Warm air hugs me. Harper trails behind me as I walk toward the front door. When I reach it I realize my keys are still at work. Luckily when I try the knob the door is unlocked. It’s dark inside, and white spots fill my vision as I head into the family room. Silence surrounds us. The only sound is the humming of the air conditioner, low and steady.
“She must be asleep.” I look at Harper, feeling relieved.
She swings her arms by her sides, looking a little lost. “Well, can I get you anything before I leave? Some water? I could make you something to eat.” Glancing at the couch, she says, “Or I could get you situated on the couch. You should probably get some rest.”
Grinning, I step forward. “You are so damn adorable when you ramble.” Without thinking on it any further, I reach up and cup her face with my hand. It curves around her throat and I can feel it swell when she swallows. Tilting my head down, I cover her mouth with mine. Her lips are soft and warm. They meld with mine, moving slowly and sensually in a way that drives me wild. “Thank you,” I speak against her mouth.
“No problem.” Her breath tickles my lips.
“Tag?” Mom’s voice startles me, and I jump back. She walks down the hallway wearing a pair of pajamas, her hair disheveled and indentations painting her cheek. Her eyes widen as
her gaze lands on my bandage. “What happened to you?”
“Oh. Just hit my head at work. It’s no biggie.”
Her brows furrow and her eyes cloud over. “So you’re okay?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m fine. I promise.”
She looks over at Harper with suspicion in her eyes. “Who’s she?”
“Mom,” I scold her. She used to have better manners than she does lately. It’s like her depression has rendered her socially inept. “This is Harper. She’s a…” I pause, wondering what Harper is to me. Not my girlfriend, although I’d like her to be. “She’s my friend,” I finally say.
“Hi, Mrs. Williams.” Harper steps forward, extending her hand to my mom. “It’s so nice to meet you.” Her voice is sweet, her demeanor calming.
Mom’s face softens and she shakes Harper’s hand. “You too. And you can call me Priscilla.”
“Okay, Priscilla. Your home is lovely,” Harper says.
“Would you like to stay and have some iced tea?” Mom asks, surprising the hell out of me. “I think I have some.”
“I would love to.” Harper glances over her shoulder at me and smiles. I smile back, completely impressed with how she won my mom over in a matter of minutes. Although I can’t say that I’m completely shocked. She won me over just as fast.
11
HARPER
“YOU TOOK THE day off work? Okay, I’m totally worried that an alien has come to earth and taken over your body,” Kate speaks incredulously through the phone.
Holding my cell between my shoulder and my ear, I sit on my bed and slip on my silver sandals. “Nope. No alien. It’s me.”
“Wow. Last week you didn’t want anything to do with this guy and now you’re skipping out on work for him.”
I chuckle. “I’m not skipping out on work. I have like a gazillion vacation hours I’ve never taken.”
“Exactly my point. What’s going on, Harper?”
“What do you mean?” I freeze, startled by her accusatory tone. The house is silent since Mom and Dad have already left for work. Standing up from my bed, I make my way to the dresser and pick out a pair of dangly earrings.
“It’s a little odd, that’s all.”
“What is?” After putting on the earrings, I lean against the dresser and wonder why Kate is being so weird about this. Isn’t she the one who’s always bugging me to get out more?
“You broke things off with him last week.”
“I got scared. You know me,” I explain.
“Yeah, I do. Better than anyone. That’s why I’m concerned. The minute Tag has an accident at work you rush to his side. I’m worried that maybe this has more to do with Heather than with Tag.”
“This has nothing to do with Heather. I didn’t realize how much I liked him until I got the call that he’d been hurt.” I try to think of a way to explain it to Kate. “I guess I realized that fate had given us a second chance, and so I jumped at it.”
“As long as you’re not trying to rescue him the way you wish you could’ve done with your sister.”
“Believe me, when I’m with Tag I’m not thinking about my sister, or anyone else for that matter.” I snatch up my purse and fling it over my shoulder. Before leaving the room I study my reflection for a minute. My long hair is tousled in a beachy look, and I’m wearing my favorite sundress. Reaching into my purse I pull out my peach lip-gloss and swipe it across my lips.
“Ooh, does this mean there’s been more kissing?” Kate asks.
I giggle.
“That totally means yes.”
Dropping my gloss back into my purse I head out of my room.
“Okay, well enjoy your day lip-locking with the sexy lifeguard,” Kate says. “I’ll be at work thwarting the advances of old Mr. Grabby hands.”
“I’m sorry.” I laugh thinking about the old man who comes in once a week to the restaurant and flirts shamelessly with Kate. “I’ll think about you.”
“Yeah. Sure you will,” Kate replies sarcastically before clicking off.
I drop my phone into my purse and hurry outside to my car. As I drive to the coffee shop to pick up some breakfast for Tag, I mull over Kate’s words. I know she’s worried about me, but her accusations struck a little too close to home. Could it be that on some subconscious level I am trying to find redemption for Heather’s death by helping Tag now? I mean, it’s true that he did almost drown. The similarity is there. But I liked Tag before the accident, didn’t I?
I sigh as Tag’s face surfaces in my mind. Picturing his light eyes, golden hair and dimpled cheeks, a fluttery feeling ripples through me. No, I like Tag. It’s as simple as that. It has nothing to do with Heather or anybody else. He makes me happy, and I enjoy spending time with him.
Not that I blame Kate for worrying. I don’t exactly date much. Or at all. But maybe that’s because I haven’t met the right guy yet. Perhaps Tag is the right one. A smile jumps to my lips at the thought. I skim my fingertips over my lips as I pull into the coffee shop parking lot. They buzz as I recall our last kiss. Tag stirs feelings in me that no one else has. I’d be stupid not to pursue this. I have no idea if things will last with us, but I plan to enjoy every minute I have with him. We never know how much time we have with people. I know that better than anyone.
Tag doesn’t bother hiding his shock when I show up unexpectedly at his house with coffee and pastries. He’s shirtless, his shorts riding low on his hips. Without meaning to, my eyebrows raise. Tag meets my gaze and smirks shamelessly.
Ignoring him, I hold up the coffees and paper bag. “Special delivery,” I say in a sing song voice.
“You didn’t have to do that.” He steps aside to allow me to enter.
“I know. I wanted to.”
“Wanted to bring me breakfast, or wanted to see me shirtless?” He winks.
“You are such an egomaniac.” I hand him his coffee. He wraps his thick fingers around the cup and I find myself imagining them on my skin. God, he’s right. I can’t help but look at his body. He’s too sexy. It’s really unfair.
“Are you saying that you were not checking me out when I answered the door?”
“No. I wasn’t,” I lie. “I was…you know…wondering about your tattoo.” Nice save, Harper.
“My tattoo, huh?” He puffs out his chest and my gaze lands on it. “What about it?”
“Well, for starters, what does it mean?”
“That story is gonna take some time,” he grins. “How much time you got?”
“All day.”
“Really?” He moves toward me, cup in hand.
“Yep. I took the day off work.”
“For me?” His eyebrows raise.
I nod, wondering if this was stupid. Will he think I’m moving too fast? Being too forward?
But then he smiles. “That’s amazing. Thanks.”
“I have a lot of vacation days saved up.” I shrug. “It was a no brainer.”
“Wanna sit down, then?” He waves his hand, indicating the couch.
I nod and follow him. After we sink down into the plush leather couch, I open the bag of pastries. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a few different things.”
“I’m not picky.” Tag looks at me as if he’s studying my face, as if he’s trying to memorize every feature. It makes me uncomfortable, and I squirm in my seat. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got. Pick out what you like first.”
“Such a gentlemen,” I tease, grabbing out a blueberry muffin. “This is my favorite, so you can pick from the others. After handing him the bag, I pick a chunk off the top of my muffin and toss it in my mouth.
“This is really cool, you coming over like this. I thought I was going to spend a boring day watching TV or something.”
“I figured as much. You don’t really strike me as the kind of guy who sits around a lot.”
“Not if I can help it.” He scoots so close to me that our thighs touch. My pulse quickens, and I struggle not to choke on my muffin.
“So, tell
me about this tattoo.” I pop another bite into my mouth and wait for his response. This conversation may have started as a diversion, but I am honestly curious about it. I’ve wondered about its significance since the day he pulled me out of the ocean and I stared up at his rock hard abs dripping water down on me.
“I got it after my dad died. I wanted to get something to remind me of him but also something encouraging, you know?”
“Rise,” I read the word etched over his chest.
“Yeah. My mom was sinking into this depression, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to rise above it. And also it reminds me of my dad and where he is now.”
I’m taken aback. “What do you mean? Don’t people go into the ground after they pass? They don’t rise.” I think about my sister’s gravestone and how I put flowers on it every year for her birthday.
“Their bodies go into the ground, but not their souls.” Tag takes a bite of his donut. After swallowing he gives me a pensive look. “Don’t you believe in heaven?”
“I don’t know. It seems pretty unbelievable, doesn’t it? It makes more sense to me that our life ends when we die. That we cease to exist. The idea that our souls will float up to some magical place in the sky sounds like a fairytale to me.”
“The best kind of fairytale because it’s real,” Tag says, a wistful look on his face.
I sit back on the couch cushion wondering about this confusing boy sitting next to me. “You really believe that?”
He nods. “Yeah. And it gives me great comfort because if it’s true then I get to see my dad again. Don’t you want to see your sister again someday?”
I choke back the emotion that wells in my throat. “Of course, but she’s gone for good.”