“Of course but you’ll think about it?”
She nods and the beast roars.
“That’s all the hope I need.”
She doesn’t say another word until she opens up her car door and slips into the driver's side. “You’d really be okay with teaching me?” she asks, staring out the windshield, gripping the wheel until her knuckles turn ghost white.
God, I want nothing more than to rip the clothes from her body, bury my face between her legs, and show her just how okay I am with it. Instead, with quick precision, I duck my upper body into her car. A surprised noise squeaks out of Harper.
She smells good, it’s like being spun in a cotton candy machine when I’m near her. But that’s Harper, she’s everything soft, light, and sweet in this world.
About a month after I started as City Manager, when I was still boiling in my bitterness from being exiled back to Cupid, there was an elementary school class visiting. Why third graders want to know about local government is beyond me, but the place was overrun with children, some screaming, a couple crying and in general all around chaos. We were all miserable, every single employee. Hell, even the teacher looked like she was two minutes from leaving the kids and walking out—everyone, but Harper.
That was the first time InoticedHarper. She was calm, empathetic with the children and possessed the type of kindness the world needs more of. Before that day, my list of what attracted me to Harper was purely superficial. All of which are still correct, but after that day the list grew, and I started paying more attention to who Harper is and not just what she looks like.
I drag my nose up the column of her throat, inhaling until I’m drowning in sugar, and my lips hover at her ear. “I’ve been dreaming of you in my bed and I’ll be in agony until you give me your answer, Sweet Girl.”
I press a kiss against her cheek and only linger for a moment before telling her goodnight and shutting her car door.
If I’m going to Hell, at least I’ll have earned my place.
February 4
The last hour ofthe day was slowly dwindling, and I deserve a gold medal for how well I’ve done, spending every hour hyperaware of Nolan’s every movement, ensuring to be wherever he’s not after reluctantly showing up for work. I didn’t sleep last night. Not a single second.Every quiet passing minute was an elusive reprieve from the white hot embarrassment still coursing through me.
I even swallowed my pride enough to go through Sadie the one time I needed something from him. It’s not that I don’t want to see him; the exact opposite, actually. More so, my problem is I’m afraid of running into him in the middle of City Hall and blurting out ‘yes, please teach me everything you know about sex’ because when’s the last time desperation turned someone on?
Never, probably, and I’m not about to test the theory.
There's also still a chance I’ll change my mind and pretend like last night never happened. It might be what’s best because I still can’t wrap my mind around him wanting me when a man like him can have anyone is beyond my comprehension. That's not even a self loathing statement, it's the truth. He could have movie stars, models, heirs to obscure royal thrones—literally anyone.
The Archer family may have started out as a small band of settlers, but that was two hundred years ago. Fast forward to today and their family is worth hundreds of millions, thanks to expanding railroads through the Central Valley. There’s not a household in California that doesn’t know the Archer name.
His money may intimidate me but everything else is nothing. Two decades is no small amount, you can livemultiple lives within that span of time, but it doesn’t bother me. Our age difference is one of the bigger incentives. I want to learn, and there’s no better way to do that than with someone who has years of experience.
The fact he’s my dad’s best friend isn’t my favorite fact but it’s not like we're screaming for people to look at us. This is strictly a private, even secret, relationship. If my dad ever found out, I’m not sure I would ever recover from the fallout. I can hear his words now, he would find some way to blame me, that I somehow seduced him, because God forbid someone from their world would want someone like me.
Typing out one last quick email, the clock finally ticks to four. Relief and disappointment swirl around in my chest. Maybe it’s better this way. Besides the one night we shared, we have nothing in common.
Yes, I’m sure this is for the best and I need to move on. The amount of emotional whiplash, from wanting him to telling myself I don’t want him is exhausting.
It’s probably time I re-start my job search anyway, a much better use of my time. I’ve been stuck in Cupid for two years since failing out of my first art docent job and running back to a town that never gave me anything. This is the exact kick in the pants I need to leave again.
Silently I vow to myself to update my resume as I race through packing up to leave, shoving anything my hand touches into my bag. Walking out of my office with my head hanging low, I smack into the one man I’m resolving to never think about again.
“Leaving?” he questions with a tilt of his head.
My eyes flutter, and I inhale deeply. God, he smells good, and my mind races back to the last time I was pressed into his body, wrapped in his scent. This is the exact opposite of what I want to focus on.
“I leave at the same time every day.” I do my best to keep my voice steady and nonchalant.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here.” He casts his gaze down at me. “Can you be at my house around seven tonight?”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
My mouth hangs open but nothing comes out.
