Trevor walks through the sliding glass door with one of his easy, soft grins.
“I put some vanilla creamer in yours,” Trevor says while placing a steaming mug on the table.
“Thank you.” The coffee is the perfect temperature, well brewed with a hint of caramel.
Beau joins us at the table, placing his arm around the back of Trevor’s chair like it’s second nature by now. Trevor sips at the coffee to no doubt prevent a lovesick grin when Beau’s thumb starts to trace lazy circles over his bicep. They’re disgusting and I love it. I want that kind of love so badly, to be so in tune with someone that I know exactly what they need without a word. My parents always had that type of abundant love, no second-guessing, just knowing that at the end of the day they had one another.
The problem is that I’m a possessive fuck. If I’m actually dating someone, usually they get sick of it fast. So at a certain point, I just stopped dating. Stopped bothering with love at all. But by the time my parents were my age, they’d had a toddler, were married, and owned a home. All I have is a fake boyfriend career because of a bad knee that ruled out any sort of career in the league.
“I could put you to work at the farm,” Beau says a little while later.
I can’t help but snort. “Trevor already offered.”
Beau tilts his head as he sips from a dark blue coffee mug with a chip in the rim. “Offer stands.”
“What are you doing today?” I aim my question at Trevor.
“Today’s Beau’s day off,” Trevor says shyly.
I can take a hint. “Let me get out of your hair.”
I quickly gulp down the rest of my coffee, firmly shake Beau’s hand and lovingly pat Trevor’s head. Trevor bats me away with a small smile. As I back out of the drive, I catch sight of Trevor standing and squeezing Beau’s hand before heading inside the house. The way Beau stares in Trevor’s direction tells me everything I need to know about the man. I’m going to get that sort of love if it’s the last thing I do.
After some investigating,I’ve learned that Harper stops by the cupcake store a handful of times a week. The man has an absolutely unquenchable sweet tooth. Just before lunch on Friday, I dip into Bee’s with a cheeky grin. The owner, Trisha, smiles conspiratorially as I take a seat at one of the small tables towards the back.
Yesterday I’d staked her out to find out when Harper frequents the store. She’d been a little too easy to get information out of really. I could be some kind of psychopathic stalker. I’m not, but I could be.
A little past noon, the bell above the door tinkles, and in strides Harper with Honey at his side. His hair is down today, flowing in soft waves past his shoulders. For one brief moment, I wonder what his hair would feel like between my fingers, tangled in my grip as I tug tight.
“Afternoon, Harp.” Trisha leans on the counter with a motherly smile. “What do you want today?”
Harper’s fingers twitch at his sides, before sweeping his hair off his neck. Immediately, Trisha’s smile falters. I watch in confusion as she hustles to get a cold bottle of water and come around the counter. She guides him to a table while opening the bottle of water. Harper’s eyes are distant, but he gratefully takes the cold water, sipping slowly at it with his eyes shut.
Trisha straightens, sending a weary look at me over her shoulder, subtly shaking her head in a clear indication that today isn’t the day. Well, I’ll just have to alter my plans. Harper seems to come back to himself in pieces, eyes gaining their normal vibrant forest-green shade. He blinks slowly a few times until finally his gaze lands on me.
An irritated scowl covers his face just at the sight of me. That won’t do. Hoping to soften my presence, I send him a small wave. Harper immediately glances toward Trisha behind the counter. He rubs a hand over his face, pulls his hair up, and twists it into a bun. Honey sits at his feet, gaze firmly on him, tail woefully still on the floor.
His eyes are so lasered onto the table that he might start a fire. Coming to a stop just in front of him, I tap the table with my fingers to gain his attention. But he doesn’t even blink. A small drop of sweat rolls down his neck, disappearing under the back of his shirt. It’s not that hot out today, at least it wasn’t when I was outside earlier. Just a typical eighty-degree Florida day.
“Would you like a ride home?” I ask softly.
“No,” Harper says firmly.
“Harper, sweetie,” Trisha calls out, voice laced with concern.
When I turn to look at Trisha, her eyes all but beg me to drive him home.
“I’m heading that way anyway. I need to meet Trevor for something. I can drop you off on the way.” I do my best to use the tone that usually gets me my way, firm, just slightly daddy.
Harper seemingly doesn’t take the bait. A few stilted moments pass by before he lets out an annoyed breath.
“If you’re going that way,” Harper acquiesces with seemingly great reluctance and slowly stands from the table. The smell of his woodsy cologne reaches me, sandalwood. The scent smells sweet on him.
Trisha extends a small cupcake box over the counter as Harper passes by. With a sweet smile that I so badly want aimed my way, Harper gently takes the box from Trisha. Harper all but flees the store, but I take a moment to send Trisha anI’ve got thistype of smile. It’s only a minute walk to my car, but I walk slowly considering Harper still seems a little unsteady on his feet.
Just like last time, I open the doors to get Harper inside, then usher Honey into the back seat without touching her. Harper is alarmingly quiet. He stares listlessly out the window the entire drive. I’m not sure if it’s more annoyance with me or whatever medical condition he has that warrants Honey’s presence in his life. Maybe it’s a combination of both.
Harper tries to climb out of the car, but I stop him with a rough hand on his forearm. A little furrow forms between his brows as his gaze flits from my hand to my face.
