Page 52

52

HARPER

I take another shot, grinning at the burn sliding down my throat and into my stomach.

The bass thrums through my chest, the bar packed with people cheering, drinking, and dancing .

I’m having the best night of my life.

"Another one!" Allie shouts, waving at the bartender.

She’s flushed, barefoot, and drunk off her ass.

I laugh, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You trying to kill me before the wedding?" I slur.

"Hell no, I’m trying to make sure you actually have fun before your overgrown caveman of a fiancé comes to collect you."

I smirk. "Oh, he so is."

Tara raises a brow, sipping her beer like she’s watching a movie. "I remember Ford in high school. He was a bit… intense.” She sets her beer on the table, her gaze locking on my flushed face. “You want him to come, don’t you?"

I press a hand to my chest, feigning innocence. "Who, me?"

Chloe snorts. "You’re literally testing his patience on purpose."

I grin. "And?"

I know exactly what I’m doing.

Ford is obsessive.

Possessive.

Dangerous when pushed.

And I love pushing him because I know what comes next.

My blood rushes faster, and my pussy clenches just thinking about it.

"You’re insane," Tara mutters, shaking her head.

"Certifiable," Chloe agrees with a grin.

Before I can respond, Gram stomps up, holding a bottle of whiskey and looking absolutely thrilled with herself.

"Alright, baby," she hollers. "It’s time for a goddamn show!"

Allie gasps, her eyes lighting up . " Yes! Harper, get on the table."

I choke on my drink. "Excuse me?"

“Just like Coyote Ugly. Get on the table.”

I raise my brows. “Didn’t they dance on a bar?”

"On the table!" Gram insists, already grabbing my arm. "This is your last wild night before marriage, so own it."

Tara mutters something about either me or Gram needing therapy.

Maybe both.

Chloe leans back, amused as hell. "Harper, you don’t have to?—"

Too late.

Gram has a death grip on my wrist and the power of a thousand chaotic grandmothers.

Drunken Allie has joined in, her whistle deafening.

Before I can blink, I’m hoisted onto the damn table, hands in the air, my face hot as the entire fucking bar turns to look at me.

" Fuck yes !" Allie cheers, clapping like a damn seal.

The bartender hands her the microphone, and suddenly, the entire bar quiets.

Allie sways on her feet, blinking at the mic.

"Allie," the DJ says, sounding concerned. "You sure you wanna?—"

She shoves a hand in his face. "Shhh. I’m having a moment."

Chloe smirks. "You got this, girl."

She throws a fist in the air. "Yes. I’m gonna rock it. "

The first notes play, and she tilts her head, a dazed look on her face.

It’s a song I haven’t heard in years, but given Allie’s recent situation, it fits.

The music to “Life Goes On” by LeAnn Rimes belts through the speakers.

Allie sways with the beat—kinda—then opens her mouth.

The bar goes still as Allie sings.

The girl has always had an amazing set of chops, and even drunk, she’s fucking incredible.

My breath catches.

Movement from the door draws my attention.

Goddamn it.

My eyes lock on Connor as Jake, Daltyn, and finally, Cole slam into him like a four-car pile-up.

Connor is standing still, his eyes wide, staring at Allie like she just made his world stop turning.

I smile.

Allie’s voice is raw, sweet, unsteady but powerful, like she’s baring something she didn’t mean to.

The entire bar is entranced , but no one more than Connor.

Gone is his usual smirk, replaced by something I’ve never seen before.

His eyes are locked on her like she’s the only thing that exists.

Oh, shit. He has it bad for her!

I glance between them, my heart clenching.

This isn’t a joke anymore.

Not for him.

And for the first time since she met him, Allie doesn’t seem to notice.

She just belts out the lyrics with her whole heart, lost in the music.

She’s singing the song like the badass she is.

Her gestures and movements accentuate the lyrics, the words hanging in the air like a confession.

Connor’s chest rises, falls—too fast, too uneven.

Like he’s wrestling with something he doesn’t want to feel.

My body has been swaying to the music and Allie’s powerful voice, but suddenly, I stop.

I feel it.

A presence.

A shift in the air so sudden, my stomach drops.

I know it before I even turn.

Ford.

He’s here.

His growl is so loud, it pulls Connor from his Allie-induced trance.

Connor grabs Ford’s arm. "Bro, wait. Just?—"

Ford doesn’t even hear him.

Connor tries again. "Man, just let her?—"

I’m frozen, unable to move, watching the train barrel toward me, about to run my ass over.

But then Allie’s voice hits the final chorus, and she belts out a high note, her voice clear and steady, despite how drunk she is.

Connor stills.

His hand loosens on Ford, and his breath shudders as he stares at Allie like she’s an angel.

And in that moment, he’s fucking gone for her.

Helpless.

Speechless.

Smitten.

He doesn’t even try to stop Ford a third time.

Which means—I’m screwed.

Because Ford is already moving toward me with the speed of a runaway train.

The moment his eyes lock on me, the moment he sees me standing on this goddamn table, wearing his shirt and nothing else, I know.

I’m dead.

The heat in his gaze is pure fury.

Pure possession.

Pure, unrelenting Ford.

I fucked up.

But instead of apologizing, I grin like an idiot, my body warm from the booze flowing through my veins.

"Big bad Ford found me," I sing song, gyrating my hips like I’m dancing around a pole, poking the bear one last time.

Connor, who is still reeling from Allie’s singing, snorts. “Oh, shit. Harper’s gonna die.”

Jake shakes his head. "She’s gonna wish she was dead."

My eyes move to my fiancé.

His eyes burn into me.

He doesn’t say a single word, just stalks forward.

I feel the heat of his body as he gets closer, reminding me of an inferno.

I’m hot, ready to take off his shirt.

But then, my buzz momentarily clears my brain fog as I see that look.

The one he gave me in the coal storage building, when he unrelentingly edged me.

Oh, shit.

Fear swims through my veins.

Panic makes my mouth so dry, it’s like cotton.

And before I can even think of running, he grabs me….

And rips me off the fucking table.