Need You for Mine(55)
Adam laughed. “I don’t care what she says on her blog. As long as she helps fill tables, and all the proceeds go to the Back-to-School Packs fund, we’re golden.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that,” Harper said. It was still unfair, and extremely petty, but if Adam was okay with it then who was Harper to deny Liza? It wasn’t as if boasting about fake accolades was any more dishonest than convincing an entire town of a fake relationship. Which gave Harper fake street cred in the allure department. “She asked my advice on lingerie for a date she has, right now, actually. She said she wanted to feel sexy.”
“Lingerie? Sex? Hell, if I knew this was what women talked about, I would have asked to chat it out a long time ago,” he said, only half joking. “What did you recommend?”
She felt her cheeks flush. “Honeysuckle.”
“Ah. Great choice.” He lifted his hand to tug at the neckline of her shirt over one shoulder. “Is that what you’re wearing under here?”
She smacked his hand away with her free one. “No.”
“What?” he said, sounding like the offended party. “I’m in my skivvies and I don’t even get a little peek of lace?”
“You’re the subject, not me.”
“What are you going to subject me to?”
She ignored this, but didn’t move her shirt back up. “Liza wasn’t shopping for just any date. It was a first date. With Clay Walker.”
“Ouch.”
“I guess my pep talk on how he could be a good dad and manage to find some time for himself really inspired him. To ask Liza Miner out.”
“Classic dildo move.” His gaze drifted over her mouth, as his hands drifted well below the belt loops on her cutoffs. “Guy’s a moron.”
“Yeah, well, I wanted that moron to want me.” She closed her eyes because they felt suspiciously wet. “Here I am, trying to reinvent sexy and alluring to attract the attention of one of the most sexy and alluring designers in the world, and I can’t even attract the attention of the guy I’ve been crushing on for almost a year. How am I supposed to save my grandma’s shop?”
“The same way you save everything else in this town.” He tilted her chin up until she opened her eyes. “With your entire heart and soul.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said. “I still have my whole heart and soul to give, because no one wants a piece of it.”
“Ah, sunshine.” He touched her cheek. “You give a piece of it every day to everyone you meet. The kids in your class, the people around town, the moron who wants to start dating and misses the perfect woman standing right in front of him. Even the asshole who can’t manage to plan a picnic.”
“You aren’t an asshole.”
“See, right there, you see the best in everyone. You’re warm and quirky and sunny and so damn open and giving it blows my mind.” His gaze tracked down her body and back up, making her shiver from head to toe. “And that, Harper Owens, is alluring and addicting and sexy as hell.”
Harper couldn’t remember anyone calling her sexy before. Coming from a master woman-whisperer, she should have discounted it. But she couldn’t. He seemed so genuine, and she could tell he believed what he was saying.
Distracting herself from how heavenly his hands felt on her body, she played with a string dangling off the hem of her shirt. “A year, Adam, and he asks my advice on dating, then asks someone else out on my date, and I’m stuck here. Working.”
“Correction, sunshine,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her onto his lap—his nearly naked lap, which her short cutoffs did little to protect her from. “You’re here with your boyfriend, who happens to be Mr. July. And everyone knows that July is the hottest month of the year, reserved for the hottest subjects.”
She laughed. She was feeling silly and rejected and like a fraud, and he still managed to make her laugh. “Everyone knows that, huh?”
“Yup.”
Just like everyone would know the second Mr. July burned out on this faux-mance. People wouldn’t ask him if he was okay, or if he needed to cry it out. Because everyone would assume that he’d dumped her. Harper Owens. The ordinary woman who caught the most extraordinary fish in town, but couldn’t reel him in.
And wasn’t that going to suck.
She drained the last sip of Scotch, noticing that her belly was delightfully warm, and handed the glass back. “Thank you for listening to my pathetic day, but I’m all talked out.”
She went to stand, but he pressed his palms down on her thigh, holding her in place. “Oh, honey, my day will make your pathetic one seem like a trip to Disneyland.”