Falling for Mr. Wrong(17)

Afterward, they lay curled up together, talking about the usual things: Noah’s departure for law school later in the summer and how Harper was reluctant to leave Verity Beach, even though she’d likely have to move to the Raleigh-Durham area to get a better job.

“I wish you weren’t going to be so far away,” she said, swirling her finger along his chest as she talked quietly. He was planning to attend school in Washington, DC, which meant long road trips.

“Let’s not think about that right now,” he said. “Who knows what could happen between now and then.”

In hindsight, those words were a bellwether, but at the time she thought nothing of it.

The next day, Harper texted Noah to see if he wanted to go for a run on the beach. He said he had something he had to do, so she ran without him. She called him later in the afternoon to see if he wanted to do something, and she got his voicemail. A few hours later she called again, and nothing. Finally she went to his house, pounded on the door over and over, but no one answered. By then she had gotten scared—she even called the police to be sure there hadn’t been an accident.

The next morning she found a letter in the mailbox with her name on it. She ripped open the envelope to find a cryptic letter with no explanation.

Dear Harper,

I know this will come as a shock to you, and I’m really sorry. I can’t explain things right now, but I want you to know that I’ve decided to get away for a while. I needed to figure a lot of things out. I hope you’ll understand, and even more so I hope someday you’ll forgive me. Please know I’m not doing this because of you, but because of me.

I love you,

Me

Harper couldn’t begin to count the number of times she read and reread that letter those first few months after Noah ran away, trying to find some stupid clue about why he left the way he did. It was like trying to divine tea leaves—futile yet impossible to stop trying. She tried to grill his mother to no avail. She was equally clueless about it and likely even more upset. It was hard to explain to her family and friends how deeply the betrayal affected her—it was visceral, to the gut. Sure he said it wasn’t about her, but that’s ridiculous. It had to be about her. Otherwise he’d never have left. There was something about her that wasn’t worth sticking around for. And the worst thing was, she had no freaking idea what that could be.





Chapter Thirteen


Noah was beat. He’d been up since early prepping the Smuggler’s Inn for a wedding that would be held there this weekend. He hadn’t made it to bed till almost three in the morning after picking up fare after fare. There had been a concert in the huge outdoor amphitheater about twenty-five minutes away, so he made some good money at least.

He wasn’t up for getting together with a surfer friend he’d made, Spencer Willoughby, for drinks as promised weeks earlier when it had sounded like such a great idea. By now most of the friends Noah had grown up with had moved elsewhere. He was kind of lonely, so he wanted to connect with either other friends or new people. Matt had Katie—and Tyler, that cute little nug who’d stolen his uncle’s heart instantly. His mom was gone. He was alone at the inn except for two sweet retired ladies who helped with the cooking and cleaning. And his lifestyle didn’t lend itself to meeting new people much. Unless you counted the transient guests who stayed at the inn.

Things were starting to feel dire. Maybe he was going to have to sign up for one of those online dating sites. Although he knew deep down he wasn’t going to do that. There was only one person he wanted to date: a green-eyed girl whose heart he inadvertently broke on the way to finding his way in life. The woman who was now collateral damage in his journey to self-discovery, which seemed so damned mercenary. He wished he’d gotten Harper’s number; he wanted so much to talk to her. Granted he knew where she lived now, but he also didn’t want to stalk her—that would be particularly creepy. He needed to let things unfold organically. She knew he was here now. She knew that in no uncertain terms he was back. And wanted her, desperately so. In some ways, the ball was now in her court, yet it killed him that maybe she had no intention of picking up that ball and running with it.

He checked the clock on the dashboard of his car: he had a good twenty minutes until Spencer would be here. He might as well go in and sit at the bar, catch up on sports highlights. Beat sitting in a cold car, especially now that it was getting dark so early. Winter seemed like it was looming with shorter days and chilly nights.

He entered the martini bar—weird place for two dudes to meet up, he thought—and lumbered over to the leathered granite bar. It was early enough that not many people were there yet. A cluster of three young women sat at the far end of the bar, heads together in conversation. Then he noticed a familiar tumble of chestnut hair, several seats away. Attached to a luscious body with a form-fitting baby pink fuzzy sweater. Sitting alone at the bar.

He tried to maintain his cool as he wandered toward her and pulled up a barstool. “I wish I could think of a clever pickup line, but all that is coming to my head is offering you a nightcap.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Noah. Did you attach some kind of homing device to me? Maybe a GPS tracker in my purse?”

“If only I’d thought of that. But I’ll take that under advisement.” He winked. “Mind if I sit down?”