Open Your Heart (Kings Grove #4) - Delancey Stewart Page 0,29
either.
I was on Harper’s front porch in under ten minutes, and she pulled the door open with a broad smile on her smooth clear face. Looking at her gave me an odd feeling, a little like stepping into the sun from the shadows, or shrugging off a heavy sweater in the first warmth of spring. “It’s a dog,” she said, stepping aside to wave me inside.
“It’s not a dog,” I said, though really, it could be. You just didn’t see a lot of wild dogs up here.
She shrugged. “I heard the mountain lion, too, I think. I told the ranger about it. I hope they don’t kill it though.”
“I don’t know what they’ll do. Doubt they’ll kill it.”
She nodded. “Hey, I’m glad you came up. I owe you a thank you.”
I sat in the chair she indicated, at the end of the long wooden table near the kitchen. “Why’s that?”
She carried over a tray of vegetables and crackers, and then put a beer in front of me. “This okay?” she asked, indicating the bottle.
“Yeah, fine, thanks.”
She sat, lifting a glass of water to her lips and lowering it with a smile.
“No beer for you?” I asked.
“I don’t drink,” she said simply. “Plus, the water up here is amazing.”
That was true. “Best I’ve ever tasted,” I agreed.
She grinned at me and said, “Hey, I wanted to thank you for renting me this place.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Sure.” I didn’t add that I’d rented it before and would surely rent it again. Even if she was just another renter, something in me was pushed to make Harper feel more special than that. We sat in silence for a moment, and I felt the burden of polite conversation probably fell to me. “Did you go to work today?”
“I don’t officially start until Monday,” she said. “But I dropped a few things off to get my desk set up.”
“Hello Kitty notebook? Pink stapler?” I don’t know what made me say it, but I couldn’t help it, and Harper’s face lit up in a grin as she punched my arm.
“I’ll take those things in Monday. Today I dropped off my work tiara so it’d be all ready to go when I arrive.”
I laughed. “It’s great how that all worked out.”
“It is.” Silence fell between us then, and she watched me drink the beer. I felt awkward with her watching me that way, but there was something about it I liked at the same time.
“What’s the job, anyway?”
“I was angling for President or at least Chairman of All Things Important.”
“No dice?”
“I guess not. I’m the new events manager.” She raised her glass.
“Sounds good,” I said, clinking my bottle to the edge of her water. As I did it, I felt a twinge of guilt, and as soon as I acknowledged that little ping, the feeling grew and swelled until it avalanched around me, burying me beneath its weight. It occurred to me, not for the first time, that sitting here with a gorgeous girl, making light conversation and actually enjoying myself, was probably not what I deserved to be doing. I was a widower—and part of me felt responsible for my wife’s death. Shouldn’t I be thinking about that? Beyond the guilt I felt around Jess, I felt guilt whenever I wasn’t thinking of her. I wasn’t sure what the expiration date on guilt and grief was, and I bowed my head trying to figure it out.
When I looked up again, ready to make some excuses so I could wallow properly in the darkness back at home, Harper was watching me.
“Can I ask what happened?” she asked in a soft voice, those bright eyes fixed on my face.
I held her gaze a moment and then dropped it again. “What do you mean?”
“With your wife?” Her voice was soft, welcoming. Encouraging. And I was tempted to stay in the light of her kitchen, the aura of her smiling presence. But I knew I should leave. I put the bottle down, preparing to stand.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s not my business. I shouldn’t have pried. You just look so sad sometimes, so lost. I wondered…” she paused, her eyes darting away and a light blush climbing her pale cheeks. “I wondered if I could maybe help. Talk about it, I mean.”
“Hey,” I said, working to make my voice reassuring and kind. “It’s okay. I just don’t really talk about it, I guess.”
She nodded, and her smile returned. “Don’t go yet, okay?”