I wrap my arms tighter around myself. "Meanwhile, he was sleeping with half the office. Turns out everything was a lie.The faithful boyfriend act, his job, our future. He was good at making people believe things."
"He hurt you?"
The question is quiet, dangerous. There's something protective in his tone that makes my heart flutter.
"Not physically. Just made me doubt everything. Every decision. Every instinct." I stare into the fire. "I'd saved myself for what I thought was real love, and he couldn't even save himself for three more months until our wedding. So I decided to do something he'd hate. Something impulsive and unrealistic and completely outside his perfect ten-year plan."
"Buy a bookstore in Montana."
"Yep." I pop the 'p', trying to lighten the mood. "Show's what he knows about ten-year plans."
Dean shifts slightly, and suddenly we're closer, though I'm not sure which of us moved. "You didn't answer my question from before."
"Which one?"
"Are you running from him?"
I should lie. Should keep this conversation casual. But Dean's looking at me like he can see straight through me, and maybe it's time for some of that mountain honesty.
"He won't let it go," I whisper. "The texts, the calls, the emails... he keeps saying he can explain, that I'm overreacting, that I'm making a huge mistake..." I wrap my arms around myself. "So yeah, maybe I'm running. But I'm also trying to find something. Something real."
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the crack and pop of burning wood. Then, slowly, deliberately, Dean reaches out and takes my water glass, setting it aside.
"Come here," he says roughly.
I hesitate for half a heartbeat before sliding closer. His arm wraps around me, and I let myself lean into his warmth, my head fitting perfectly against his shoulder.
"He shows up here," Dean says into my hair, "he's going to have a real problem."
"Because you're so good at taking in strays?"
"Because I know real when I see it." His fingers trail up my arm, barely touching. "And you, Harper James, are the most real thing I've seen in a long time."
My heart stutters. "Even with my weather app dependence and truck-naming habits?"
"Even then." He presses what might be a kiss to my temple, so light I'm not sure it happened. "Try to sleep."
I should go back upstairs. Should maintain some kind of boundary. Instead, I burrow closer, letting his steady heartbeat drown out the storm.
The last thing I remember is his hand in my hair, his whispered words lost to the wind.
Chapter 4
Dean
She fits against me too damn well.
The morning sun's been up for twenty minutes, turning her hair to honey gold where it spills across my chest. I should've woken her hours ago. Should've carried her up to the guest room instead of letting her curl into me like she belongs there.
Should've done a lot of things.
"Harper." Her name comes out rougher than intended. "Wake up."
She makes a small sound and burrows closer. Christ. "No. Five more minutes."
I fight back a laugh. She's lethal like this. Soft, warm, trusting. "Sun's up. Storm's passed."
That gets her moving. She jerks upright, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Everything in me wants to pull her back down.
