“So? Asher’s marrying your best friend—the one he cheated with. All bets are off, honey. Besides, Ford is so much better for you than Asher. And I’m not just saying that because he’s clearly better in bed.”
“It feels wrong.”
“Wrong can be right, too. You just have to change your mindset.”
I open the door and step back toward my room. Asher stands in front of my door, glaring at me as Ford walks out, pulling a shirt over his head. They both turn to look at me.
Crap.
Chapter 30
Ford
If I died today, I would die the happiest man alive, with the taste of Harper still lingering on my lips and the ghost of her fingertips branded across my skin.
Last night transcended any fantasy I’ve ever conjured. The way she trembled beneath me, her breath hot against my neck, her eyes locked on mine in that moment of perfect vulnerability. I expected the morning-after jitters, but I know her skittish behavior isn’t about lingering feelings for Asher.
It’s the guilt clouding her eyes. She’s terrified she’s become exactly what broke her heart: the betrayer instead of the betrayed.
Gina walks out behind Harper and gives me a thumbs up. I’m relieved to have someone on my side, someone in Harper’s ear telling her this is a good idea, the right decision. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I have the whole town rooting for us. Harper andmy names have never been linked together so often in casual conversation, and I love how we sound together—and how we came together.
Asher, however, does not seem to appreciate the idea of Harper and me as a couple. I’m convinced he’d stab me if he had a knife handy. “What is Ford doing coming out of your room without a shirt on?” Asher demands.
“I could’ve come out with nothing on, but this seemed most appropriate considering the audience,” I reply.
Gina giggles, but Harper looks horrified. Asher clenches his fists and asks, “You screwed my best friend?”
“Are you worried she’ll start comparing the two of you? Scared you won’t quite measure up to big ol’ Ford here?” Gina shoots back.
They’ve talked about me. I suspect the bratwurst comment Harper made twice refers to a certain part of my anatomy. My sausage, if you will. At least I’m not considered something smaller.
Harper glares at Gina, and I can’t help but smirk. But Gina’s raised eyebrow suggests Harper definitely enjoyed last night—maybe enough to let it happen again. And again.
“There’s no comparison between him and me. No one forgets their first,” Asher says.
The fact he has that accolade to throw in my face infuriates me. He was Harper’s first for everything, and I hate it. He didn’t deserve any of it.
“Asher, go find Kenzie,” Harper says. “I don’t think she’d appreciate overhearing this conversation.”
“Harper—”
“What I do or don’t do is none of your business, Asher. It hasn’t been since you decided to sleep with Kenzie while we were engaged.”
This is my chance, so I jump in with, “I think she means who she does or doesn’t do is none of your business.”
“Good one!” Gina exclaims, high-fiving me.
“Not helping,” Harper interjects.
Asher glares. “It is my business. You’re making a mistake, and I hope you’d consider my opinion after all the time we spent together.”
“Asher, I don’t care what you think anymore. I don’t care what you do. There’s nothing you can say that matters to me, and I want you to respect me the same way.”
“If I’m about to walk off a cliff, you would just let me? That’s where we’re at now?”
“I’d push you,” Gina mutters.
I snort, and Asher raises his fist, his knuckles white and trembling, veins bulging along his forearm like rivers on a map. Let him try. Right now, I’m floating six inches off the ground, drunk on the lingering scent of Harper’s vanilla perfume still clinging to my skin.
