“She’s my business partner. It only happened a few months ago, but I’m so glad to have her help. I really needed it, and now we’re both invested in the business.” Delilah beamed, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Harper! Look who I just found.”
West’s heart bottomed out at the sound of her name, at the fact that she would know he was there. He kept his panicked gaze on Delilah a moment too long and her eyebrows drew together, like she had no idea what the problem could be.
Of course, she wouldn’t know. No one knew that once upon a time, many years ago, on a late summer night under a star-filled sky, he’d kissed Harper Hill for hours. Hours and hours. Long, tongue-filled kisses that had induced wandering hands and sighs full of longing. Oh, and the biggest case of blue balls West had ever endured in his life. That hours-long kissing session had been worth it though. Harper Hill had tasted just as good as he’d imagined. She’d melted in his arms, so responsive, so damn sweet . . .
And then he’d walked away like a complete jackass, never contacting her again. All along he’d known he was leaving. He’d completed two seasons at the Wildwood fire station straight out of high school. Put in for a promotion wherever he could, letting the lady in human resources know that he wanted the hell out of the ranger unit. Far away from his hometown, far away from his family, specifically his dad, so he could start fresh. He’d kissed Harper that night because he could. Because he desperately wanted to. Because he knew he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his actions.
He’d moved out of Wildwood the next day and never looked back.
Not one of his finer moments. Did Wren know about his make-out session with Harper? Best friends shared everything, but he had a feeling Harper had never confided in hers about the two of them making out. After all, he was Wren’s big brother. At the time, Harper had been off-limits. Forbidden.
She still was. So much that he could hardly chance a look at her.
But he had to. Look. Just to see if she was as pretty as she’d been from far away when he’d lurked behind Coke boxes and stared at her.
Very slowly, very carefully, trying his best to keep his smile in place, he turned his head and met Harper’s gaze for the first time in what felt like forever.
His knees felt a little wobbly.
Harper was even more beautiful up close. Long hair the color of the sun riding low in the sky, reds and golden browns and strands of blonde that waved past her slim shoulders, with that cute little pert nose sprinkled with freckles. Freckles she’d always hated.
That one night, his last in his hometown, he’d done his damnedest to kiss every single one.
Her dark brown eyes flashed at him, and those perfect, delicious, bee-stung lips didn’t slide up in that natural sunny smile of hers. Harper Hill was friendly. Beyond friendly. The entire Hill family had a reputation to uphold in this town, and Harper was just as cheerful as all the rest of them. She had a natural way about her, drawing people in, always surrounded by friends—by people who wanted to be her friend, like it was a privilege to bask in her glory.
Right now though, she looked like she wanted to draw and quarter West. Maybe hang him up by his toes so he dangled above the ground, much like he remembered his dad and grandpa doing when they brought home a buck during hunting season.
Yeah. He’d never been one for blood sport as a kid or an adult. Harper though?
She appeared ready to shoot him dead with just the look in her pretty brown eyes.
IT TOOK EVERYTHING within Harper Hill to draw herself up to her full height of a mighty five-foot-three and appear indifferent. Inside, she quivered like a leaf. After all, Weston Gallagher stood in front of her in the flesh, all six feet plus of him. And he looked so good, so ridiculously sexy, her stomach fluttered at the way he smiled at her all friendly like. As if the last time they’d seen each other they hadn’t had their tongues down each other’s throats. Or their hands all over each other’s bodies.
She felt her cheeks warm remembering all the places West had touched her.
“Hey, Harper,” he said, his voice deep and sure. She’d never forgotten the sound of his lazy drawl. How it seemed to ooze over her like warm, thick honey, making her languid and weak.
So weak.
Not right now though. Nope, right now hearing him say her name, looking at her like they were old friends, maybe even mere acquaintances, made fire flash in her blood, setting its temperature to boiling.
“Weston Gallagher. I heard a bad rumor you were coming back to town,” Harper sniffed, offering him her best fake smile. The one she didn’t use very often because damn it, she was a nice person. Everyone said so. “Looks like it was true.”
Delilah gaped at her, her big brown eyes wide with disbelief. Harper was never unfriendly to anyone. Nice had been bred down into the very essence of her. The entire Hill family, since her great-grandparents moved to Wildwood ages ago, were known as the friendliest people in town. Wildwood’s own homegrown Welcome Wagon, not that anyone knew what a Welcome Wagon was anymore.
Harper did. She was queen of the Welcome Wagon now. Gracious and kind and, above all, accommodating.
Except when it came to Weston Gallagher.
“Good to see you, too, Harper. As always.” He gave her a salute, his smile actually growing into a full-blown grin, the cocky bastard. “You’re even prettier than I remembered.”
And with that, he turned tail, taking his cart along with him as he got the hell out of there.
Fast.
“He didn’t even say good-bye,” Delilah grumped, sending Harper a look that was full of way too many questions. “What was that all about, girlfriend?”
Harper tilted her nose in the air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Inside she still quaked with nerves. She’d seen West for the first time in years and hadn’t fallen apart. Hadn’t thrown herself at him either.