Need You for Mine(56)

She snorted, because she’d been to Disneyland. It was her senior trip, and she was in love with the captain of the water polo team. Curtis was sweet, smart, going Ivy League in the fall—and gay. Not that Harper knew. It came as a complete shock when he decided, during the big Happiest Place on Earth photo beneath Sleeping Beauty’s castle, to kiss the captain of the football team. Well, a shock to Harper—her friends were only shocked Harper didn’t know.

“Impossible,” she said.

“It’s a second-glass kind of story.” He took the bottle off the stand next to the chair and refilled the tumbler. “One I promise will have you laughing.”

She crossed her arms.

“Fine, if by the end I convince you mine was worse, then I get a peek at what’s under that top of yours.”

Convinced there was no way his day could have been more embarrassing, and wanting to get off his lap before she went in for another hug—and pressed herself against that twelve-pack—she said, “I think this is just your mine is bigger than yours mentality kicking in, but go ahead.”

“As an April Fool’s joke, I submitted a request for a condom vending machine, which was accidently passed up the chain of command.”

Harper’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

He gave her a look. “It gets better. I had to go apologize to the chief’s secretary, in person, for writing the word dick seventeen times in a formal request.”

Harper felt Adam cringe, so she had to ask, “Who is the chief’s secretary?”

He handed her the glass. “Mrs. Franklin.”

Harper choked on the whiskey. “Mrs. Franklin? She was my first-grade teacher.”

“Mine too. I had to look straight into the eyes of the woman who taught me the importance of penmanship and explain the importance of proper hose safety.” Adam took the glass back and drained it.

“What did she say?”

“That she was so impressed with my use of innuendo she didn’t feel the need to hand it over to her boss.” Adam leaned back against the chair, and Harper felt herself slide a little closer. Her heart followed suit. “I’ve screwed this promotion thing up a few times now, been passed over for lieutenant more than that, but I need to get it right. This is my last chance to prove I’m more than my reputation.”

Harper knew it was none of her business, but sitting on his lap, listening to the frustration in his voice, she felt herself being pulled in. Becoming invested. “Prove it to yourself? Or to the chief?”

“What do you mean?”

“Love interests aside, I’m pretty good at reading people,” she said. “But I can’t figure you out. It’s clear to me how much you want this promotion. You’re planning the biggest headache of the year, and you even took yourself off the market to impress your boss. But you still picked up Baby in a bar, while in uniform, came here having no idea who she was, then two minutes later you kissed me, and have probably kissed a dozen other girls since—”

“I haven’t kissed anyone.”

“—even though you knew it would look bad.” She stopped, along with her heart. “Wait, you haven’t kissed anyone since me? But that was like two weeks ago.”

“I know. I haven’t even gone looking,” he said, sounding equal parts surprised and proud. She understood the first emotion, but the second confused her. It had only been a week that people thought they were dating, but he’d already taken himself off the market before that.

Why?

Was she that bad of a kisser that he’d gone into hiding? Or was she that good and he’d felt those darn tingles too? Not that she got the chance to ask, because he said, “Thinking back to that night with Baby, you were right, it was a stupid move”—his voice dropped to a low rumble—“but haven’t you ever needed to let go? Drop all of the BS and escape for a while?”

“Yes.” Harper had spent most of her childhood pretending that the sets in the play were real, that the cast was her family, and that she belonged in that extraordinary world.

“So you go out, meet someone, there is heat and zero expectation beyond mutual pleasure. And there it is, the chance to get lost for a while, blow off some steam, and before you know it, you’re in a ladies’ dressing room, caught up in the moment, waiting for the rush to take you over, like you’re free-falling from thirty thousand feet without a chute, and . . .” He paused, the look on his face one of confusion. “Really? Never?”

Harper realized she was shaking her head. Because embarrassingly enough, she’d never experienced anything like what he was describing. Even worse, she didn’t know it existed outside of books.