“So, soldier?” Harper turned back to Luke.
“Captain in the Army National Guard Brat,” Sophie said, plopping down an overflowing plate of nachos and a pile of napkins.
Luke eyed his sister and said nothing.
Hmm. Military. That ranked right up there with firefighters and cowboys in the noble and sexy profession category. Was there nothing that wasn’t scorching hot about this man?
Harper glanced around the bar that was getting more crowded by the minute. It seemed like everyone was talking to everyone else at the same time. No one was alone, even if they arrived that way. Greetings and hands rose up from all corners of the room.
“I’m getting the feeling that this is a very small town and I’m the only stranger here,” Harper ventured.
“Don’t bother feeling like a stranger. It won’t last,” Luke warned. “See that woman over there in the Easter Bunny sweatshirt?”
Harper spotted her gabbing it up by the jukebox.
“That’s Georgia Rae. She’s probably already plotting on how to corner you and extract your life story.”
Harper laughed and sampled a cheesy nacho.
“And that,” Luke said, gesturing at a gray mustached man by the pool table, “is my Uncle Stu. I guarantee he already called my dad to tell him that I’m at the bar with the girl who took down Glenn Underhill. And see how Sophie keeps checking her phone? That’s my mom texting her to find out what you look like.”
“Wow. I should probably get out of here before they invite me to Sunday dinner,” Harper laughed.
Luke’s phone on the bar buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “Too late.”
“Very funny.” Harper rolled her eyes and took a sip of beer.
He held up his phone for her to see.
Ask your friend if she can bring a pie to dinner Sunday.
She choked, slapping a hand over her mouth. “This can’t be real. I’m still in the parking lot unconscious, aren’t I?”
Luke laughed and put a solid, warm hand on her back. “You wish.”
Click.
Harper glanced up to see Sophie holding her phone extended towards them.
“Soph.” Luke’s voice held the sharp edge of a warning.
Sophie smiled innocently. “What? Oops, gotta go. Order’s up.”
“Did she just take a picture of us?”
Luke grabbed his beer. The spot on her shoulder where he had touched her still felt tingly.
She put her head in her hands, until she bumped her cheek and remembered the bruise. “I feel like I’m in some alternate reality. I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“Where are you supposed to be?”
“Fremont.”
“You’re a long way from Fremont.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Harper, Fremont is four hours west of here.”
