That was a question he could answer. He’d been overcome with her beauty in the moment. The way she’d looked, bathed in the creamy pink light of sunset, the way she’d been smiling at him…it had been too much for him to resist.
The wine he’d had at dinner hadn’t helped, but blaming his actions on alcohol was no excuse. He’d known what he was doing.
He’d wanted to kiss her, and he had.
Of course…she’d kissed him back. But maybe she’d done that because she’d felt…obligated? He was sort of her boss. Not in thetruest sense of the word. Their relationship wasn’t a standard employee-employer set up.
She had been such a help to him. Had he lost that? He’d give whatever it took to fix things.
He practiced the words he wanted to say to her.
Harper, I’m sorry about what happened last night. It was impulsive and juvenile, and I regret making you uncomfortable in any way. I hope you can forgive me and that we can put it behind us and move on. I promise not to do anything like that again.
That expressed everything that he was feeling. Maybe noteverything. He did want to do it again. He wouldn’t. But he wanted to. Also, he was embarrassed by what he’d done. He should probably admit that. And tell her that he’d make things up to her in whatever way felt right to her.
And then, if necessary, he’d beg her not to quit.
He exhaled, his breathing coming a little harder as he picked up speed. If that didn’t work, he’d…
He shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he’d do.
Maybe he should talk to Joyce. She was smart about these things. Look how well that basket of dog treats had worked and that had been her idea.
He listened to the podcast coming through his earbuds. The podcast was exploring the Clutter family murders, the family who had become the focus of Truman Capote’s book,In Cold Blood. It wasn’t that interesting to Mitch because he’d read the book and watched a documentary on the murders not that long ago.
That made tuning out the podcast and going back to his thoughts easy to do. Harper was far more interesting to think about.
Despite the apology he’d already formulated, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be involved romantically with a woman like her.
Very different from Jeanie, he imagined. Jeanie would have been the first to admit that she was a big softy and, quite often, a pushover.
Harper wasn’t like that. Harper said what she meant, even if she was careful with her choice of words.
But much like Jeanie, Harper had a real love for people and life. They both loved helping people. They both had an enthusiasm for life. They were both happy people.
Which wasn’t to say that Jeanie had been happy all the time. Mostly, she had been. But several times during their marriage, she’d had low spots. She’d suffered from post-partum depression after Kyle’s birth.
It had taken her a while to get through that. Therapy, medication, and a new diet and exercise plan had all helped. But that was Jeanie’s truth. Her super optimistic outlook had occasionally dipped into the equivalent low.
About two years into their marriage, Jeanie had suffered the first of those lows. She’d stayed in bed for a week, refused to eat anything other than tea and toast, and had spent a lot of time crying or on the verge of tears.
Mitch had felt so helpless, in part because money had been an issue then. He’d been published but only just and was still working a regular job. There’d been no guarantee another publishing contract would even come. He scraped together everything he could to buy her a session with a therapist.
A single session, because that was all he could manage. But she’d come out of it better. Not healed, not back to her usual upbeat self, but better.
Enough that he’d gone into debt to keep her in therapy, borrowing money from his parents, who hadn’t really had it to give.
He’d yet to see those kinds of mood fluctuations in Harper. Could she have them? Anything was possible.
But she was the one who’d gotten him out his grief. She’d known how to gently guide him into talking, and to begin dealing with that grief. He figured she probably knew how to deal with difficult emotions and feelings better than most people.
He slowed as he approached the driveway and shifted from running to walking. He glanced at the guest house. There were lights on. As much as he wanted to talk to Joyce about what had happened, he didn’t want to interrupt her personal time.
She’d be in the house soon enough. He’d find a moment with her at some point today and see what she thought he should do.
He went inside and poured a cup of coffee. Kyle was on the back deck, giving Ruthie her bottle. Instead of going directly to the shower, he went out to see them. “Hey, son. You want a cup of coffee? I’ll make you one.”
“Yeah?” Kyle nodded, eyes heavy-lidded. “That would be great, thanks. A little creamer and two sugars.”
