Page 11

11

HARPER

“ I need to be back at the house before nine a.m. The contractors will be there for renovations.”

Ford’s head snaps up, his glare locking on mine as he clicks my seatbelt into place.

His jaw works back and forth before he grumbles, “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

Exasperation wells inside. “Ford. You don’t have to play guard dog?—”

His jaw clenches, muscles flexing as he leans closer, his voice low and lethal. “Someone. Threw. A. Rock. Through. Your. Window.”

I’m well aware.

Pulling back, he yanks his hoodie over his head, revealing his bare chest. “There. Was. A. Note.”

I try not to stare at his chest.

Lies.

I’m totally checking out his chest.

Forcing my gaze away, I match his tone, my frustration bubbling up. “I’m. Fully. Aware.”

He glares at me, and I glare back.

Crossing my arms, I lift my chin defiantly. “Be reasonable. Why would anyone try something in broad daylight with a house full of contractors?”

Instead of answering, he shoves his sweatshirt at me. “Put this on since you were too stubborn to grab a coat.”

His gaze flicks down to my plaid pajama pants, his lips pressing into a tight line. “At least you put pants on.”

I look down at my legs, then back at him.

His expression is unreadable, but there’s something simmering in his eyes.

Disappointment?

Is he mad I’m wearing pants?

I bite my lip to keep from smiling and duck my head, pulling his sweatshirt on.

The warmth of his body heat still clings to the fabric, and the second it surrounds me, I melt.

Admit it. You didn’t grab a coat on purpose.

You wanted his hoodie, knowing he’d give it to you.

When he leans over, double-checking my seatbelt, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with his scent like a lunatic.

As soon as the passenger door shuts, I exhale a quiet sigh, watching him round the vehicle.

I was falling apart ten minutes ago.

Now, I feel safe.

And it’s all because of Ford.

He climbs inside, and the engine rumbles to life.

I can’t help but check out his profile as he backs out of the driveway.

I rub my fingers over my pajama pocket, fixating on insignificant shit, like how they are the best invention ever, to avoid thinking about what actually matters.

Like the rock.

The note.

Or how Ford fucking yummy-as-sin Brooks is sitting next to me, radiating protectiveness and fury in equal measure.

I glance at him, the glow of the dashboard lights casting his face in sharp lines.

His expression is unreadable, but the tension rolling off him is thick and palpable.

He’s stewing, barely keeping it together, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel like he’s imagining wrapping them around someone’s neck.

I should not find that sexy.

But I do.

I swallow hard, forcing my eyes forward.

I’m not looking at his chiseled, ridiculously muscular, abs-for-days, gray-sweatpants-wearing self.

I’m not looking.

Not at all.

My self-control lasts all of three seconds before I glance over at him again.

Big mistake.

The sweatpants situation is… a problem.

My lips part, breathing suddenly difficult, and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from making a sound.

But a whimper still escapes.

Oh my God.

Horrified, I snap my head to the front window, staring out at the passing scenery, praying he didn’t hear it.

“Harper?” His voice is deep, low, and filled with something I can’t decipher.

Shit.

I don’t look at him. “What?”

A long beat of silence stretches between us.

“You don’t have to resist me taking care of you,” he says quietly. “It’s not a sign of weakness. Or that you’re incompetent or incapable.”

My eyes snap to his.

He’s intently watching me, his focus unwavering.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe because my mom always depended on my dad. When he had a heart attack last year, she… fell apart.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight.

“Physically, she was fine. But mentally? I knew she didn’t think she could survive without him.”

Ford’s hand wraps around mine, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry.”

His voice is thick, laced with emotion. “I… well, Gram told me your dad was in the hospital.” He looks at the road. “It was the middle of the season, and I couldn’t?—”

“I didn’t expect you to.” A fiery blush rises. “I mean, we weren’t together and….”

“I should’ve called.” The concern in his eyes nearly undoes me. “To see how you were.”

He’s warm and solid.

Safe.

My body leans toward his like it’s natural.

Like he’s still my anchor.

Like I could just sink into him.

No.

At the last second, I force my back straight and turn away, staring out the window.

My breathing is ragged.

I am not my mother.

I don’t need a man to take care of me.

“I get it,” he says softly, as if reading my mind. “But there’s no shame in relying on someone, Harper.” His fingers absently stroke over the back of my hand. “Look at my Pap and Gram. They were each other’s rock. When one was down, the other stepped up.”

My chest tightens.

He’s right.

I’d seen it firsthand.

Their love had been unshakable, their bond a force of nature.

They functioned like a team.

Unlike my parents, where my mom relied on my dad but never the other way around.

“When did you become the rational one?” I ask, forcing a teasing tone.

A chuckle rumbles through him, warm and deep, sending shivers down my spine. “Maybe about the time you became irrational?”

I gasp, clutching my chest. “Wow. That was a solid burn.”

His lips twitch. “I have my moments.”

Headlights illuminate the front of Gram’s house, and nerves swirl inside me.

It’s ridiculous, but walking into that house with Ford beside me feels… intimate.

Like we’re together.

Like we’re still Ford and Harper .

The couple everyone thought would be together forever.

My stomach knots.

Gram will take one look at us, at me, and know that I’m stuck.

That I haven’t moved on.

And if Ford is over me… if he doesn’t feel the same pull I do… I don’t think I can handle the crushing rejection.