SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,52
her son.
Harper joined her in staring at the retreating man. Why the sudden black mood? And did this mean their joining orbits was off?
Chapter Eleven
Mad marched to the bar and grimaced at the long line of customers waiting for service. He should have gotten his beer on his way to fetch the coffee, but he’d been thinking of something else at the time.
Thinking of Harper, looking so damn appealing in a pair of tight jeans, beat-up boots, and a gauzy embroidered shirt, as if she’d just landed at Sawyer Beach circa Summer of Love. Not only had she looked like daisies and peace signs, she’d been smiling and sending out undeniable flirtatious signals.
Of course, his mom had interfered right before he’d secured her promise to meet him for “dessert,” and then he’d been assigned the task of hot beverage-procurer. As the son of the town mayor, he’d been unable to be inconsiderate and refuse her.
And then he’d returned with that damn hot beverage and discovered exactly how inconsiderate he truly was. Had been, years ago.
I missed Sawyer Beach. Dreadfully at times.
Simple words that made him worry he’d somehow sent her away when she didn’t want to leave town. There was that damn globe birthday present, which now that he thought about it, practically yelled here’s your hat what’s your hurry. And then, when she returned to the States, was it possible she’d avoided moving back to the town where he continued to reside?
She’d thought him married, after all. With kids.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw her still chatting with his mother, happily enough it seemed, but he couldn’t shake this feeling that he’d let her down.
That he’d screwed up.
Six people ahead of him in line stood Sophie Daggett. If anyone would know…
She looked over as he sidled up to her. Her scowl didn’t warm his heart, nor the fact that she immediately directed her gaze elsewhere. “You can’t take cuts,” she said, making clear she wasn’t in an uplifting mood.
Well, he wanted honesty.
“Look. Sophie. Did I, uh, miss something six years ago when Harper was still here?”
“Of course you did.”
“I did?”
“You’re a man.” Her scowl deepened. “Of course you missed something. You missed something then, you’re missing something now, you’ll be missing something tomorrow too.”
She still wasn’t looking at him so he followed the direction of her gaze. That guy she’d been with before, Tatted Arms, had one of those lanky limbs curled around the waist of a girl in a polka-dot mini skirt and purple cowboy boots.
“You deserve better,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.
“Hart’s the best,” she snapped back, and that’s when he realized she was actually staring at Hart Sawyer, who had just reached the head of the liquor line. A woman stood at his side and he was solicitously turned to her.
“He’s buying that woman a drink,” Mad said, blinking in surprise. “He’s here with that woman.”
“Well, good,” Sophie said, with a little flounce, though there was a definite sharp edge to her voice. “Maybe his grief is easing. I’m happy for him. I’m very happy for him. I’m very, very happy for him.”
Then she pulled in a long breath and switched her attention to Mad. “Now, what did you want?”
He shoved his hand through his hair. “I wanted to know…years ago, six years ago…was Harper, well, really into me?”
“What is this, seventh grade?” she asked, proving Sophie still wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy.
He glanced back, saw his mother sitting alone and had to run his gaze over the crowd to find the green-eyed brunette, in the middle of a gaggle of other women.
Before I left, I felt dangerously close to becoming too much like my mom.
Who had never gotten over Harper’s father.
Yeah, he’d overheard that part too.
Now Sophie gave him an extravagant eye roll. “Yes, Harper was into you. You were into her as well, right?”
“Right.”
“Then she went out to see the world. You moved on. End of story.”
But why did the story end there, exactly? Why did he let it end when he’d missed her the second she’d shouldered into that huge backpack and left town?
Because they’d been young and she’d been so sure of what she wanted to do next…
And he’d never said don’t go or let’s go together or even write me every day or…
I think I might be in love with you.
Not the bubble gum kind, not the first kisses, first sex, first idea of what becoming a couple might be like.