Harper didn’t say a word.Just focused on where she was stepping, not even looking at him.Not quite the response he expected.
“Are there more like those in your closet?”
“A few.”
Trent held the car door open for her because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and because he also got to catch a glimpse of those perfectly toned thighs as she lowered herself into the seat.He closed the door and took a deep breath.
At the fiery tapas restaurant, aptly named Diablo, Trent watched Harper push thechorizo al vinoaround her plate.She’d picked at thetabla de carnewhile responding politely to his attempts to start a real conversation.
“So how long have you worked at José’s?”he asked, hoping it would spur her to tell him some of how she ended up in Miami.
“A couple of years.”She murmured a polite thank you to the waiter who removed their plates, watching wide-eyed as a server placed the hugepaella de mariscoson the table.
He ate a forkful; it was his favorite meal.But tonight, though the shrimp was succulent and the rice cooked to perfection, it was like he couldn’tfeelthe flavors—not with Harper being like this.Twice she looked up as if she were about to say something, but both times she stopped.This was not the Harper who had shot pool with him last night and had kissed him out of his pants on the curb.
Trent sipped at his one glass of wine, wishing for all the world that he hadn’t chosen to drive.A tall, cold beer would be great now.Or a pitcher of it.Or a keg.
“I need to ask you a real personal question, Harper.And I want the most honest answer you can give me.”
She stopped studying her food and looked up at him.Her shoulders dropped.Clearly, she knew what was coming.
“What gives?Last night you were having a great time, smiling and talking.And that kiss, by the way, kept me awake half the night with highly inappropriate thoughts.Today, you seem like you don’t want to be here.What happened?”
Harper bit her lip.The hand holding her fork started to twitch.
“Just say what’s on your mind,” he said gently, taking hold of her hand, stilling her fingers.“Good or bad, we can talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.It’s been a shitty day.I have stuff going on in my life, and I keep going backward and forward as to whether now is the right time for me to be doing this.”Pushing the rest of her food around on her plate, she avoided looking at him.
“Thisbeing dinner, or this being us in general?”Using his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her chin.
“Both.It’s not you.Shit, I sound like a cliché.It’s just.Shit… shit…” Tears glazed her eyes.
“Wanna get out of here so we can talk?”
“Yes.”She sighed.“Yes, please.I really do.”
***
They walked down the tiled pathway, the light coating of sand crunching underfoot as they passed the evergreen shrubbery and headed toward the beach.On a rock just off the boardwalk, Trent let go of her hand and unbuckled her shoes.It felt oddly intimate.Surprising.But nice.He slipped off his own, carried both pairs in one hand, offering her the other.
Taking comfort in the way his hand enveloped hers as they walked slowly to the edge of the water, Harper tried to organize her thoughts.The hustle and bustle of the thriving streets faded the closer they got to the ocean, replaced with the soft shuffle of palm trees and sounds of gentle waves breaking on the sand.
“Today, I had to write a victim impact statement.I had to relive every detail of what happened and then write about how it affects my life now.”Harper paused, grateful when Trent said nothing and just continued to rub small circles on the inside of her wrist.
“I ended up looking at the photographs from the hospital and went for a walk down memory-fucking-lane.”Harper let out a frustrated sigh.“Sorry.I don’t usually swear.Well, maybe I do.I don’t know.”
Trent laughed and pulled her into his strong arms to hug her.“Seriously, darlin’, you never have to apologize to me for that.”
Walking along, smelling the sea air and hearing the calming whoosh of the waves helped Harper center herself, push herself to keep speaking.
“It happened four years ago.”She stopped, shaking her head.“I still don’t understand how I allowed myself to get to that place.I’m still mad at me.”
Trent stopped, then helped her sit in the sand facing the water.He joined her, stretching out his long legs.There was hardly anybody else on the beach, and the few people around were either too far away or too engrossed in their own lives to pay them much attention.
Harper’s mind raced.How much should she tell him?She still wasn’t sure.Enough to maybe understand where she was coming from—which could also be enough to scare him away.
“It wasn’t a random stranger,” she began, poking the sand with a small stick.“It was someone I’d been with for two years.My brother’s best friend.”
