A Brush with Love(35)

“I won,” she preened.

Dan didn’t move.

“You were a fierce competitor though,” she called down the aisle.

Still nothing.

With a pang of panic, she hurried to the site of the collision, hovering over his still body, her palms clenching and unclenching as she waited for him to move. His eyes were closed and his legs were bent at odd angles beneath him.

“Dan?” Harper’s voice was an octave too high. “You okay?”

She reached out to press a finger to his pulse, wanting to avoid moving him too much if he was hurt. Harper almost made contact with his skin when his eyes flashed open.

He grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her down on top of him. She let out a shriek of surprise as she collapsed against his chest and the cushy paper towels.

“You play so dirty!” he said, tickling her sides. She squealed, trying to squirm out of his strong grip.

“No I don’t!” She pushed against him. “There was nothing in the bylaws about physical contact! I won fair and square.”

“And risked my life and limb to do so,” Dan said with a noise somewhere between a laugh and a growl that sent an effervescent burst through Harper’s body. “You could have killed me. I could be dead, Harper.”

Harper let out a gasp as his tickling doubled in effort. “I think you’re being a bit ridiculous,” she choked out.

She nuzzled her face closer to the crook between his arm and chest.

To protect her chin from tickles. Obviously.

“I’m ridiculous?” He jolted them both up to sitting with ease, holding her in his lap, his arms wrapped loosely around her. “You just Tonya Harding–ed me in a shopping cart race, but I’m ridiculous?”

They both shook with laughter, and their eyes locked in a moment of sharp intimacy. He flashed a devastating smile, and Harper had to remind herself how to breathe. It felt like her heart was expanding in her chest, wanting to pop free from her rib cage and knock at his, hoping for company.

Dan’s fingers traced up her arm, leaving scorched nerves along their path. He settled his palm at the angle of her jaw and let it linger. Waiting.

The moment felt like a beginning or an end, and it was up to Harper to decide. She felt poised on the brink of a huge precipice that she could either fling herself off or retreat from to the safety of solid ground.

It would be so easy, so natural, to lean forward and press her mouth to Dan’s, morphing the unspoken possibilities into reality. It would feel so undeniably good to give up overthinking fear and embrace pure want instead.

But the rational part of her brain—the louder, stronger, anxious part—scolded her emotions into submission. This wasn’t the way you stayed safe and whole. She didn’t even know where she’d be living in a few months, but she knew it wouldn’t be here. It could be on the other side of the country, for all she knew. Her time with Dan had an expiration date before it even started, and the pleasure of recklessness wouldn’t soothe the hurt of an inevitable broken heart. Harper had long ago made the executive decision that she’d dealt with enough pain in her childhood and wouldn’t willingly subject herself to any more.

“We should clean this up,” she whispered hoarsely, pulling her head back a fraction. She didn’t miss the disappointment that flickered in Dan’s eyes, but he quickly replaced it with a smile.

“You want me to help you clean up your crime scene?” He slid her off his lap and she tamped down the urge to cling to him like a needy toddler.

They restored the display pyramid to the best of their abilities and finished shopping with awkward small talk and long silences.

At the checkout counter, Dan pulled out his wallet at the same time Harper reached for hers.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” she said, waving at his hand. “A deal is a deal. You lost.” She fumbled to pull her credit card out of its pocket, and he gave her a bemused smile.

“Don’t worry, Harper, I’ll still honor your rights to a second date,” he said with a wink, sliding his card out smoothly and moving to put it in the chip reader.

“Stop it,” Harper said, giving up on her wallet and wrapping both of her hands around his wrist, tugging at it sharply. His arm jerked into a stack of coupons sitting on the counter and sent them flying. The checkout clerk let out a dull sigh.

Harper shot the woman an apologetic smile, which turned into a gape when Dan easily pulled against Harper’s grip, lifting her clutched arms up as he inserted the card.

“I can buy my own groceries. I’m … I’m a feminist,” she said weakly, watching the receipt print out. “Independent.”

“I know you are,” he said with a smile. “But—also as a feminist—I can buy your groceries too. Now let’s go, you’re making a scene.” He grabbed the grocery bags in one hand and laced his fingers through Harper’s with the other, leading them out of the store.





CHAPTER 14





DAN

“Do you have anything particularly perishable?” Dan asked as they walked along the darkening streets. “If not, maybe we could get coffee?” He pointed his chin toward a café a few stores down, still holding Harper’s hand. He had no intention of letting it go.

She looked up at him with a sweet smile. “Coffee sounds good.” Harper studied him and Dan saw a new openness in the way her eyes met his.