Falling for Mr. Wrong(27)

Noah’s eyes searched Harper’s hoping to find some intent behind what transpired. Had they just had astonishingly great sex? Or was it something more than that? Was there still love on her side? He knew there was for him. Now more than ever. And it wasn’t that boyish love from before but rather a tender, deeper, more mature love that he wasn’t capable of when he was younger.

His fingers traced along her body as they lay on their sides, facing each other.

“Don’t you think you’d better get back downstairs in case things have exploded in your absence?”

He grinned. “Hate to tell you, but things already exploded in my presence. And yours.” His face fell as did hers.

“Crap,” she said.

“Double crap,” he said.

“No condom,” they said in unison.

“Should I be worried?” she asked.

“Look, Harper, if you were to get pregnant, you know I’d be there for you.”

She shook her head. This reminded her of what she’d conveniently forgotten until now: Noah’s little boy. Noah of all people must know about failed protection methods. “I meant am I going to catch anything from you?”

Noah started to laugh, quietly. “Harper, I haven’t slept with a woman in longer than I can remember.”

“That’s odd. Why not?”

He fixed an earnest gaze on hers. “Because I realized I wanted to be with you.”

She laughed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Kind of too little, too late, don’t you think? All these years later.”

“It’s never too late, Harps. You feel it, I know you do. I hear it in the tiny whimper you make when I suck on your nipple. I hear it in the gasp of pleasure you release on that first amazing press of my cock inside of you. I see it when you stroke your tongue along my cock while you lock eyes with me. I know you feel it, Harper.”

She frowned, thinking about that little boy he was hiding from her. Where was the mother? Did he have a relationship with her as well? “Sorry, Noah. You’re wrong about that. It’s exactly as I told you: I’ve been in this long, dry spell. And you’re simply watering my garden, remember?”

He shrugged. “Have it your way. But remember, with enough water, you might be surprised at what blooms.”

*

They got dressed, dreadfully rumpled now, and returned to the wedding reception, the trickling of warm semen down her leg a reminder of what had happened, almost chastising her for lying as she had. She wasn’t merely using Noah for the sex, but she was too damned afraid to ever get past the superficial with him and truly share herself, her body, her heart, her emotions.

Wouldn’t you know, Georgie was nowhere to be found. Same went for Spencer. Which meant Harper’s chariot had turned into a pumpkin. Hell, she could’ve saved herself a lot of, well, whatever happened between them a few minutes ago, if she knew she was going to be ditched. She could’ve found another ride and been in bed by now.

But then again, deep down, she wished she could be in bed by now with the man who was nearby standing with an older woman ruminating about something on a clipboard the woman was holding. Harper knew if she actually had him in bed for the night, she would lose her tight control over things, including her emotions. And that would be entirely unacceptable.

Harper leaned back against the wall, trying to do a discreet—so as not to look desperate— search for Georgie before she bailed herself. An older woman in a floral dress and sensible shoes with short gray hair and warm brown eyes sidled up beside her. “Aren’t you our Noah’s friend?”

Harper looked at her with suspicion. Who was she and why would she call her “our” Noah’s friend. And who the hell was the “us” she must’ve been referring to? Harper decided to remain polite, hoping the woman would soon go away. She extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Harper Landry. I guess long ago and far away I was your Noah’s friend. Or more than friend. Whatever you’d call it.”

The woman smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you, dear.” She shook her head as if forgetting something. “I’m Betty Lipscomb. Martha”—she pointed to the tall woman with the long gray plait and black dress with whom Noah was talking to—“and I stayed on to help Noah transition the inn.”

“Transition the place? I thought he was just working here.”

She waved her hands. “Oh, heavens no. Noah is the owner.”

Harper squinted, confused. “Where would he get the money to buy an inn? And why would he want to tie himself down like that? I’m sure it’s no secret to you that he’s not one to stick around.”

Betty sighed. “I know that was your experience.” She placed a hand on her shoulder. “It must have been heartbreaking.”

Harper wasn’t exactly prepared to spill her guts to this gal. But she seemed so warm and kind and thoughtful. “It was awful. Horrible. Shifted the earth beneath my feet. Took me years to collect myself and even think about opening up to people again. Killed my sense of trust.”

Betty pulled her into a hug, which was weird but lovely all at once. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Boys sometimes do the dumbest things.”

Ugh, if she wasn’t careful, she might start crying. Something about confessionals with strangers.