“You help with the books. I’m good for it.”
“I haven’t gotten through your books yet and this seems like kind of a large investment for one cookout.”
“Cookout?” Luke swore. “Now we need a damn picnic table.”
While Becky wrote up the sale of her career, Luke rubbed Harper’s shoulders. He smiled at the tension he felt there. Maybe it was time to take pity on her.
“I’m not mad at you ... anymore,” he murmured against her ear.
She leaned back against him and looked up.
“I’m still sorry. It wasn’t very thoughtful of me to invite people into your home without asking you.”
“Maybe it won’t be horrible.”
Harper smiled. “There will be beer and hamburgers, and potato salad if we can stop at the grocery store on the way home.”
“More shopping? I’ll reserve judgment.”
“I was thinking. Now that there’s a couch in the house, you could have your bed all to yourself if you wanted.”
Luke pinched her. “Sweetheart, after last night, you’re lucky if I let you leave the bedroom at all for the rest of the month.”
He could see her blush creep down her neck.
Harper turned around and put her arms around his neck. “You know, Gloria’s bringing homemade apple pie. We could pick up some vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce to go with it, or for later.” She grinned wickedly.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so horrible, after all.
He hid his grin behind a sigh. “You might as well find some kind of breakfast table thing while we’re here because we’re never coming back,” he whispered to Harper.
She obligingly scampered off with Becky in tow while Bob himself stepped in to ring up the purchase.
“You ready to head back, son?”
Bob was twenty years his senior and had retired from a thirty-year career with the National Guard before taking on the home furnishings world.
“Yes, sir.”
“Word has it you’re a strong leader,” he said, peering over his reading glasses.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you for your service, son. Is this her first deployment?” He nodded towards Harper and Becky who had their heads together over a pub-height table set.
“It is.”
“Think she’ll hold up?”
“That girl can survive anything.” She already had. She would handle him leaving. She would handle starting a new life, yet again.
***
The fire in the cleaned up fire pit crackled, casting a warm, flickering glow around the backyard. Luke shifted his weight in the new wooden Adirondack chair.
Bob had thrown in four chairs with the purchase of the picnic table and the rest of the furniture. As soon as Luke’s credit card had cleared, Bob had loaded everything up on a truck and had it delivered. They had just enough time to get everything set up, the tags cut off, and the potato and pasta salads chucked into bowls before Aldo and Gloria arrived.
Aldo, the smart ass, accused Luke of nesting now that he finally convinced a woman to tolerate him. Luke hadn’t been amused by the joke, but Harper got a good laugh out of it.
She laughed a lot. It was a sound that warmed him up. A sound that made him realize how quiet his life had become before. A sound that made him wonder why he had valued the silence so much.
He took a sip of beer and watched her through the licks of flames as she and Gloria tried their hands at toasting marshmallows. The firelight danced gold in her hair. She was beautiful to begin with, but add that grin and her bubbly laugh, and it pulled at something deep inside. Rooting and taking hold.
“Hey, lover boy, if you’re done staring dreamily at your girl, I’m empty.” Aldo wiggled his beer bottle. “It’s your turn to play host.”
Luke stood up and took Aldo’s bottle before tipping his friend’s chair sideways and depositing Aldo on the ground. “Sure, no problem. Ladies, can I get you anything?” Harper jumped up.
“I’ll help you,” she said brightly.
“I think I can carry a few beers myself,” Luke teased, holding the back door open for her. “Or are you just trying to get me alone?”
Harper brushed up against him as she walked past. “I’m multi-tasking.”
He shut the door a little harder than he meant to in his haste to get his hands on her. Harper ran her finger down his chest to his stomach. He was hard even before she skimmed lower to the top of his jeans. “I’m helping you carry beers, stealing a very private moment with you, and letting Gloria and Aldo talk.” She dipped her fingers in his waistband.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,” he warned.
Harper let him back her up against the refrigerator. He saw the eagerness in her eyes and wondered if it was mirrored in his. His hands slid under her sweatshirt, fingers running over the impossibly soft skin. His mouth hovered over hers.