Page 37

Harper rolls her pretty eyes, grabbing a throw pillow and hitting me lightly on the arm. “Hush. You’re comfortable. I can’t help it.”
I reach for the remote, flipping through channels, not landing on anything interesting.
“Have you ever celebrated a holiday here?” Harper asks. “I can almost imagine a Christmas tree in the corner.”
I smile, remembering the one Christmas we spent here. My mom, dad, sister, and I were all huddled in this small space. It felt a million miles away from the city.
“A few times,” I tell her, reminiscing. “One of my favorites is Fourth of July. The town throws a huge celebration with a parade, a festival, and an incredible firework show. Everyone watches on blankets in the town square. It’s an experience. A must.”
“Really?” she asks. “Wow. I’d love to go.”
“It’s a date,” I tell her.
Her cheeks heat. “Adatedate?”
I see how her heart rate increases in her neck and notice the her grin. She wants it to be. Maybe I do too.
“I didn’t stutter,” I confirm.
“Okay then.” She shyly glances away from me, then meets my eyes.
I can’t stop the amused grin that pulls at my lips as I watch her struggle with that revelation, until she suddenly blurts out, “Like adate, date?”
“Harp, you know that thing you do where you overanalyze things for no reason?”
She nods. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
“Yeah. You’re being a Frasier right now,” I explain, referring to something she might understand a little more clearly.
“Yeah? Well, you’re being a Martin.”
She chuckles, then growls as she picks up a pillow from behind her and playfully smacks me with it. I grab another one and pop her upside the head.
Harper leaps off the couch, ready to go to battle with me. “Did you seriously forget who my brother was?”
I grab another pillow. “How could I? You both won’t let anyone forget. Don’t go to war with me, Harp.”
“Then concede and make me breakfast in the morning, Calloway!” she declares proudly, her grin infectious.
“And if I don’t?” I tease, shaking my head, unable to hide how damn happy she makes me feel with her competitive nature. It’s ingrained in all the Alexanders.
“Then prepare to lose,” she retorts, snatching a big cushion off the chair by the window.
With all her strength, she steps forward and whacks me with it, and it actually hurts.
I drop the pillow and hold my hands up. “Breakfast is yours. You win. I’ll drive to the small store at the bottom of the mountain tomorrow morning, and I’ll grab food. We can go grocery shopping next week.”
“Music to my ears. I don’t want to be in public yet,” she says with a firm head nod and a smile.
She returns the cushion to the chair, and a comfortable silence settles between us. It’s only punctuated by the crackling of the fire.
I note the curve of her smile and the ease in her posture. For the first time since I brought her here, she looks genuinely relaxed.
“You really are something—you know that?” I say, my voice deeper than I intended.
Her cheeks faintly flush, her eyes brightening with warmth. “Could say the same about you.”
I surrender and sit on the couch. Harper rejoins me, and we return back to where we were.