Page 20

20

FORD

H arper glares at me from the chair she’s tied to in Gram’s kitchen, watching me bustle around, cooking us dinner.

Her wrist muscles flex, straining against the ropes, but there’s no slack.

I tied her up too well.

“This is ridiculous! Why can’t I be untied?” she huffs, her voice a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to panic.

“Because your stubborn ass will try to run away.”

She snarls, and fuck if that isn’t the cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard .

“What do you mean, try?” she murmurs, voice low and lethal. “I’d kick you in the nuts and leave.”

“That’s exactly why you’re tied to the chair.” I cross the kitchen in two strides, leaning over her until our noses nearly brush.

She smells like defiance, vanilla lotion, and temptation.

“But make no mistake, my love, you can’t outrun me. And the punishment when you’re caught…” I drag my knuckles down her throat, smirking as her pulse jackhammers. “Let’s just say, I’d enjoy it. A whole fucking lot.”

Her hands clench into fists in her lap. “What happened to you? The Ford I knew?—”

“The Ford you knew is the same man standing in front of you now. I’ve always gone after what I wanted. And that was you. You used to do the same… until you let fear win.”

Her breath catches.

She gapes at me, her mind working overtime as she scrambles for an excuse, but I just called her out on her bullshit, and she knows it.

“You’re so goddamn infuriating!” she explodes, jerking in the chair, her fists white-knuckled. “How the hell am I gonna eat since I’m tied to a fucking chair?”

Before I can answer, the front door swings open.

Gram and Connor step inside.

Harper’s head snaps in their direction, eyes wild with relief. “Good. Some sane people. Will you please untie me from the chair and talk some sense into your psycho grandson and friend?”

Gram calmly sets her purse on the table, blinks at Harper, then looks at me. “When I said you didn’t have game, I didn’t mean you should go kidnap her.”

Before I can defend myself, Connor erupts into laughter, bending over and slapping his knee as his howls echo from the walls. “Oh my fucking God. I love it here.”

“Oh, it gets worse.” Harper jerks her head toward Connor, her voice laced with sarcasm and desperation. “He’s threatening to marry me so I can’t charge him with kidnapping.”

She lifts her brows. “And he wants you to get ordained to officiate this sham of a wedding.”

Connor whistles long and low, dropping into a chair beside her. “Damn, Ford. That’s… kinda brilliant.”

He turns to Gram. “You gotta admit, that’s dedication.”

Gram raises an eyebrow. She’s clearly impressed. “He does have a point. You can’t testify against your spouse.”

Harper nearly chokes on air . “ Oh my God! Are you seriously defending him?”

Gram slides into the chair at the end of the table. “The man loves you. And he’s a good guy. You could do so much worse.”

“ Have you lost your mind? ” Harper screeches.

Connor leans back, arms crossed, thoroughly entertained. “The man is crazy for you, Harper. He’s wealthy, a great guy, and he can take good care of you.” He nods toward me. “And some women think he’s hot.”

I punch his arm. “Shut up, asshole.”

“Hey, I’m helping you here.”

“You’ll get ordained, right?” I lift a brow.

Connor shrugs. “Of course, man. Hell, if you need a witness, I can send a group chat to the team. Jake is only about two hours from here. Cole would definitely come here for a wedding. He’s always busting your balls about not having a woman. Hell, until you fake-dated Carly, he thought you were gay.”

Silence crashes over the room.

Harper’s expression darkens . “Fake dated?”

Connor, completely oblivious, laughs. “Oh yeah. PR stunt. Fans and media started questioning if he was into guys. It affected his game, so the team’s PR set him up with Carly to kill the rumors.”

Harper turns her head so slowly it’s terrifying.

Her expression is unreadable as she blinks at me.

“So you weren’t in love with that gorgeous supermodel?” Her voice is casual.

Too casual.

“Nope.” I grin.

She remains stoic.

Oh, she’s pissed.

And jealous as fuck.

And I fucking love to see it.

“Wow,” she mutters, looking down at the table, her face unreadable. “I had that all wrong.”

Gram snorts. “You actually thought my grandson was in love with that skinny, plastic-looking Barbie doll? Please. I raised him to have better taste than that.”

Connor throws popcorn in his mouth. “So you’re getting hitched to my boy. That’s awesome.”

Harper’s head snaps up . “No. I’m not getting married.”

I smirk. “Bullshit.”

Connor nods at me. “You figure out the honeymoon yet?”

I turn back to the oven, checking the lasagna. “Sooner than later. Simple ceremony here, then a real wedding in the fall. Christmas break, I’ll take her somewhere private for a week. Once the season ends, I’ll take her away for a full month.”

Connor’s eyes light up. “Island or cabin in the woods?”

“Cabin. No cell service. Private.”

“Oh, I have ideas. Remember that cabin Jake rented last year? Super remote.”

“Oh yeah. When he was trying to hide from that psycho stalker chick. ” I nod thoughtfully. “That could work. The lake behind it is fucking huge.”

“Excuse me!” Harper screams, her face red. “Can you stop planning an imaginary honeymoon?”

Dead silence.

We all turn to look at her.

Harper’s voice shakes. “I’m. Not. Marrying . Ford.”

I slowly walk over to her.

I place my hands on the arms of the chair, leaning over her until we’re nose to nose.

The tension crackles between us.

Her pupils are blown, her chest rising and falling too fast.

My voice drops to a lethal whisper. “Like hell you aren’t. We’re getting married, Harper.”

I drag my knuckles down her throat, smirking as her pulse pounds.

Hard.

“And that’s the end of this discussion.”