Or maybe they couldn’t.
Frowning, she tossed her phone in her purse and tried her best to focus on anything but West while she dug back into a file folder of receipts from 2009.
But there she was. Still feeling all swoony over West Gallagher. Probably going to end up being the biggest regret of her life. But she was going to try her best to enjoy every single minute of it.
“OH MY GOD, how many people are in this place?” Harper glanced around as they stood at the top of the stairs, surprised to see how crowded the small bar area was. She spotted a few familiar faces, but mostly it was filled with tourists, beer bottles in hands and giant smiles stretching their mouths wide. They were all dressed casually, many of them looking as if they had just come off the lake, their faces shiny with sunburns, their hair windblown.
Harper felt distinctly overdressed in her floaty white top, cropped jeans, and sandals, and she’d worried she was dressed too casually. Ha. Better that she was out and not sitting at home moping after West confirmed he wasn’t able to get off work tonight. Thank goodness she had alternate plans. A night alone with ice cream and her laptop didn’t sound like much fun.
Loud music played, the bass throbbing, making it hard to hear. Delilah leaned in close, yelling in Harper’s ear, “Look at all the good-looking guys in here!”
Wren somehow heard her over the music. “Yeah there are,” she agreed with a smile. “This place is crawling with them!”
Harper nodded, hoping she looked enthusiastic, though all she saw were average-looking guys, more than a few of them studying the three women with interest.
The reality? She so didn’t want to be here. But what was the option? Sitting at home alone waiting for West to call or going out with her friends, nursing the same drink all night and watching while they got their flirt on with tourists they’d never see again?
Plus, she needed to fake it for Wren’s benefit. She still hadn’t told her best friend in the entire world that she was, as Delilah had so thoughtfully put it earlier, banging her brother. She didn’t know how to tell her without making what she and West were doing sound sordid and sneaky.
“Let’s dance!” Delilah yelled as she dragged them onto the dance floor. Delilah started to move to the music, her movements fluid and natural, immediately making Harper feel inadequate. She knew she wasn’t a crap dancer, but compared with Delilah? Forget it.
Wren kept up with Delilah, earning them more appreciative glances from the few men on the tiny dance floor near the bar. They danced one song
, then two, onto three when Harper finally had to grab Delilah and tell her she was thirsty and needed a drink.
They talked about nothing in particular as they waited for the bartender to come over and take their drink order, screaming at each other over the loud music. Wren kept asking Harper what she’d been up to and she deflected, feeling like a jerk. But how could she tell her the truth?
“Oh, I’ve been working and pining over your brother who’s stuck at work. You didn’t know we’ve been seeing each other? Well, that’s the polite way to put it. Really we’ve been screwing around and let me tell you, Wren, West knows how to rock my world. I think I could seriously fall for him. Like . . . ”
Seriously.
Harper frowned. Um, she so couldn’t say that.
And she hated herself for it. Not being able to dig up the guts to tell Wren, afraid that she’d be mad at her, was ridiculous. But the longer Harper kept quiet the angrier Wren would most likely be. Harper was caught in a vicious cycle that was going nowhere. And she hated it.
“Hey! We need drinks!” Wren leaned over the counter, her hand in the air as she tried to get the bartender’s attention. He was too busy flirting with another group of women standing on the opposite end of the bar. All three of them wore teeny bikini tops barely covering their goods so they definitely had the advantage.
Already bored, Harper pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans to check if she had a message. Maybe West had texted her to let her know he was coming home? But there was nothing. Of course.
Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, just as Delilah slid in between her and Wren, a stern look on her face.
“Listen, don’t look so down in the dumps, wishing you were with your man,” Delilah said, glancing over her shoulder at Wren to make sure she wasn’t paying attention. But she was too busy trying to get the attention of the bartender. “She’s going to ask what’s up if you keep acting all sad and shit.”
“I need to just tell her. She’s going to find out eventually. I feel terrible that I’m keeping this from her,” Harper said. “I don’t like feeling like I’m lying to her.” Feeling like she was lying, that was a good one. There was no feeling about it.
She was totally lying.
“Whatever you do, don’t confess your sins with her brother tonight. The last thing I want is for you two to get into a fight. We’re supposed to be having fun.” Delilah grabbed Harper’s shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Come on, live a little. At least your man is giving it to you.”
“Your man? You have a man, Harper?”
Harper went still when she heard Wren’s voice. Delilah sent her a look, then turned, the both of them facing Wren like a united front. People crowded the bar, pushing into them, and the song blasting over the speakers switched to an upbeat country song, making everyone around them cheer in approval.
“Who’s your secret lover?” Wren asked, one delicate brow arched as she stared at Harper.
Nerves ate at Harper’s insides and she looked for guidance to Delilah, who was clearly sending her the keep your mouth shut message with her eyes.
But Harper . . . she couldn’t do it. She had to confess. Get it off her chest.