Page 8 of Caspian (HC Heroes #14)

C aspian’s heart pounded hard in his chest, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo in the quiet space between them.

Harper’s touch lingered on his skin like a spark, warm and electric.

She’d touched him twice now within just a few moments—once to brush his hair from his forehead, and now her hand was still in his, her fingers delicate but firm.

The urge to pull her closer, to close the gap between them and kiss her was so strong, it was all he could think about.

It burned through his mind like wildfire.

But he held back, forcing himself to remain still, to find the strength to resist that temptation.

He knew she’d experienced something bad, but he didn’t know what it was or when.

Still, the last thing he wanted was to push her too fast, too soon.

If anything was going to happen between them, she needed to make the first move.

He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Harper,” he said softly, “I’m really glad you’re here. I mean it.” He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it, lingering for an extra second because he couldn’t stop himself.

Her eyes widened slightly, and he could see a mix of surprise and something else—interest—flicker in her gaze. But before he could read more into it, she slowly drew her hand back, letting out a small, almost nervous laugh.

“I…uh, sorry,” she stammered, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I didn’t mean for things to get, um, like this.”

Cas smiled even though his chest ached with a strange mix of disappointment and understanding. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “We’ve got all the time in the world, right? No rush.”

The tension in her shoulders eased as she offered a small smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He decided to change the subject, sensing she needed a little distance. “Here,” he said, fishing the keys to the old blue Ford out of his pocket and holding them out to her. “Why don’t you take her back to your place, and I’ll follow you there.”

Harper’s face brightened, and she took the keys from his hand with a grin. “Sounds good to me. Let’s see what she can do.”

He watched as she climbed into the truck, the smile still playing on her lips.

Cas waited a moment before getting into his own vehicle, starting the engine, and falling into place behind her as they drove back toward her apartment.

He couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and relief.

She hadn’t pulled away completely, and that was something. He just had to be patient.

When they arrived at her place, Harper hopped out of the truck with an excited laugh. “She drives like a dream.”

“Told you she was a good one,” he stated as he joined her on the driveway. “Come on, let’s go talk to my dad.”

They walked through her cousin’s front yard and over to his father’s house, where he was already waiting on the porch.

Sam smiled as he watched their approach, and Cas’ gaze flicked to the sling around his dad’s arm.

Guilt and anger rose swiftly through his chest, squeezing tightly at the reminder that he was responsible for his father’s injuries.

Once again, the thought of Ortega, a relative of an old enemy from his past, had come to town seeking revenge, targeting his father, brother, and even his brother’s girlfriend in a twisted attempt to get back at Cas.

He was grateful every day for Dale and his friends, who had managed to capture the bastard before Cas could make it back, preventing what could have gone in a much different direction.

Pushing those dire thoughts aside left room for a swell of affection to wash through his chest. His dad had always been supportive, always encouraging him to pursue what he wanted, to make his own way.

“Hi, Cas. And you must be Sadie’s cousin, Harper,” Sam greeted warmly.

Smiling, she nodded as they stepped onto the porch. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor. Sorry, I interrupted your party yesterday.”

“Call me Sam. And you did no such thing.” He waved a dismissive hand. “In fact, I think you brought some excitement to the barbeque.”

Still smiling, she shrugged but remained silent.

Intuitive as ever, his dad nodded toward the vehicle in her driveway and changed the subject. “Cas tells me you’ve taken a liking to the old truck?”

“I love it,” she replied, her smile widening as she moved closer and held out her hand. “Thank you so much for selling it to me.”

Shaking her hand, Sam smiled. “I’m just glad it’s going to someone who’ll appreciate it. That old thing’s got a lot of life left in her.”

An hour later, the three of them sat at a desk in at Harland Bank and Trust, where Harper had just opened an account, and a clerk had transferred money for the truck purchase into his father’s account.

Caspian’s heart lurched out of his chest when he found out she’d closed her account in Michigan and had traveled all the way to Texas with her money in her purse. Alone.

Thank God no one had known. She would’ve been an easy mark.

Several grisly images of dead, vulnerable women rushed through his head. He’d seen way too many over the years. Granted, none had been in this country, but they’d been innocent victims, and shit like that went on in this country too.

“Why didn’t you open an account online and have your old bank transfer your money?” he asked, trying hard to keep his frustration and concern in check.

Harper shook her head. “No way. I wasn’t about to let some internet gremlin steal my life’s savings with a few clicks of a button. I wanted to do it myself and make sure it got where it was meant to go.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out she’d just allowed the clerk to transfer her money with a few clicks of a button when his father set a hand on his arm as if to stop him.

“And yes, I know, Mr. Martin here just used his computer to remove money from my new account into your dad’s, but this system is in-house, not out on the web,” she said with a tilt of her chin. “I’m sure it’s quite safe.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” Mr. Martin rushed to reassure, handing Sam a deposit receipt and Harper a folder with her new banking information.

“Mr. Anderson, the owner, takes pride in the fact our systems are very secure. We use the latest state-of-the-art equipment and encryption. Besides, we’ve been around for almost two centuries, and have never been robbed.

I can assure you, your money is safe with us, Ms. Quinn. ”

“Thank you, Mr. Martin. That’s good enough for me.” Standing up, she smiled and shook hands with the middle-aged, bespeckled man. Poor guy blushed and looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.

“Me, too,” his dad said, rising to his feet.

Cas rose also but kept his mouth shut as he followed Harper and Sam outside.

After all, his presence technically wasn’t needed.

Harper was more than capable of driving his father to the bank and title place, and returning him home, but he’d automatically driven his dad, and she’d followed.

He told himself it was because Sam was chomping at the bit about losing his independence and Cas didn’t want to subject her to it.

But Samuel Taylor’s good manners were ingrained in him since he was a boy and he’d never be anything but nice to Harper.

Cas knew this but didn’t care to dissect his unexpected need to tag along.

Since the bank was conveniently located next to the older strip mall in town, which housed a pharmacy, a pizza shop, and Harland Title and Tag, they decided to walk.

He shortened his stride and listened as she and his dad discussed the barn wood. Then Harper mentioned her vision for the feature wall in Sam’s old bedroom.

“That sounds great,” his dad said, holding the door open to HT and T for her. “If there’s any left, could you do that to my new room?”

Excitement lit her face as she entered then turned to face Sam. “Sure. I’d be happy to. I hope to get started on Cas’ today, and I should be done by the end of the weekend. So, I’d be happy to start yours next week.”

“Wow? That soon?” his dad asked. “I don’t want you rushing on my account.”

She laughed. “I won’t be rushing. Trust me. Now that I almost have a truck, I can transport my table saw and make quick work of the cuts. After I treat the wood, of course. That’s what will take the longest.”

“Can I help you?” The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with cat-eye glasses and a tight bun, greeted them with a hurried smile from behind her cluttered desk.

The company was small and cluttered with outdated beige walls and rows of filing cabinets crammed against the sides.

Behind reception, Cas could see and hear two agents working at their desks, shuffling papers and chatting with customers in low, businesslike tones.

The air was filled with the hum of conversations, the soft click of keyboards, and the occasional ringing of a phone.

His father smiled at the woman, who instantly sat up and blushed as he filled her in on their reason for being there.

While they waited in the reception area out front for one of the agents to finish with their customers, Cas leaned back against the wall and glanced at Harper. “So, how’s the diary reading going?”

She chewed her lower lip. “It’s interesting,” she slowly replied. “I read another entry last night. It was a little intense, honestly. I had to stop myself before I got too deep into it and risked bringing back my own nightmares.”

Cas nodded and wanted like hell to ask her about them, but this was not the time or place. “Sounds like your great-grandmother went through a lot.”

“Yes,” Harper agreed, her voice softening. “I think Mary was only seventeen at the time. There’s definitely some heavy stuff in there. I just feel like there’s something she’s trying to tell me, you know? Something I need to figure out.”

His dad moved closer. “You found your great-grandmother’s diary?”