Pretend You're Mine(3)
“And then ended up getting punched out by a drunken jack-off in a parking lot?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. That is a bad day.” Sophie studied her for a minute. “So no wallet, no phone, no cash?”
“Nothing. Also, I ran out of gas in your parking lot.”
Sophie threw her head back and laughed. “Kid, it couldn’t have happened in a better place. I’ll take care of everything.” She tucked her gloss into her front pocket. “My shift’s starting, so meet me at the bar. I’ve got a beer and some nachos with your name on them.”
Harper watched as Sophie breezed out through the barn-style door. What she wouldn’t give for that kind of confidence in life.
She dropped the icepack and looked in the mirror. The bruise was nasty all right. It flowed from temple to cheekbone in a mottled purple. What if Luke was still out there?
Harper yanked her hair out of her ponytail and brushed her bangs sideways across her forehead to cover some of the bruising. She let the rest of her hair fall, tousled around her face.
Not great. But it would have to do.
She pushed through the door and into a very lively Friday night. The log cabin theme continued in the main bar with timber beams and a huge stone fireplace off to the side. Twin pool tables drew a crowd in a raised alcove overlooking the outdoor patio.
And there was Luke, standing at the long, rustic bar with a beer, waiting. He nudged an empty stool towards her with his foot. The gesture walked the line between invitation and order.
He was seriously smoking hot. Dressed in jeans and a plain gray t-shirt, he was seriously ripped. Like, romance novel cover ripped. And those eyes. Green and gray and brown. No wonder all she could say was wow.
She slid gingerly onto the stool as her muscles whimpered. They stared at each other for a minute. The silence hung thickly, cutting off the volume of the rest of the bar noises.
“Hi,” Harper said finally.
“Hi.”
“I’m Harper.” She extended her hand for the overdue introduction.
“Luke.” He took her hand in a strong grip and held it. “Come here often?” He smiled and the dimple appeared again. Harper felt her heart stumble. Oh, good lord. Not now. This was the worst possible time to develop a crush. She had sworn off men not two hours ago and promptly gotten her ass kicked by another one. She ordered herself to pull it together.
“First time. I hear the parking lot gets pretty rowdy on Friday nights.”
He straightened and brought his fingers to her face, gently brushed her bangs back. “How’s your face, Harper?”
“It’ll be okay, Luke.” She blushed, saying his name. It felt strange to be so familiar with a stranger. “How’s your hand?”
He was still cupping her face, running his thumb lightly over her bruised cheek.
Someone nearby cleared their throat. Sophie was behind the bar, grinning like an idiot at them. “Sorry to interrupt, kids, but this is for you,” she said, tossing an icepack at Luke. “And this is for you,” she slid a beer bottle to Harper. “Nachos are on the way. On the house. Sit.”
“Thanks, sis,” Luke said, barely sparing Sophie a glance while he sank down on the empty stool next to Harper’s.
Harper blushed under his stare and grabbed the beer like a lifeline. “Thanks.”
Sophie winked at her before hurrying away.
“Nice job out there, Luke.” A beanpole of a man in a red baseball hat smacked him soundly on the back. “That was one hell of a shot you gave Glenn. They teach you that in the Army?”
“Thanks, Carl.”
“Down and out in one,” Carl hooted, miming a right hook. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
“Just remember that next time you don’t give me a discount at the lumber yard,” Luke said dryly.
Carl laughed again and turned to Harper. “It’s nice to see Luke here in such pretty company. I didn’t catch your name, Blondie.”
Luke made the perfunctory introduction. “Carl, this is Harper. Harper this is Carl.”
“Well, Harper, if there is anything you need while you’re in town, you don’t hesitate to ask me. I’ll be happy to do anything, anything at all for you.”
“Yeah, I bet you would,” Luke said. “How is your wife these days?”
“Big as a house. Baby Number Three is due next week.” He puffed out his chest with pride. “This one’s gotta be a boy. A man can’t have three daughters.”
“He can if he’s getting paid back for raising hell in high school,” Luke said. “Maybe you should go home and rub Carol Ann’s feet to try and make up for it.”