Mister O(79)

“Remember when you asked me the secret to drawing a great cartoon?” I ask, reminding her.

She looks up from my work. “I do. You said you have to like what you’re drawing.”

“That’s true. But I need to amend that. It helps even more if you love what you’re drawing.” I tap the last one, in which the puppet ogles the mechanic in the cape.

Her lips quirk up in a grin. “Is that you?”

I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I have a lot in common with this puppet. He has a filthy mind and loves sneaking peeks at a certain gorgeous redhead.”

She cracks up. “I love you, and your dirty cartoons, and your crazy brain, and the fact that you see me as a mechanic even though I’m a magician.”

That last word reminds me of something I’ve never quite figured out when it comes to this woman. “Tell me something. I used to think you weren’t into me because you were never Princess Awkward around me. Does that mean your feelings changed when you said you were”—I pause to sketch air quotes with my fingers—“cured of your affliction?”

She smiles slyly and shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Then when?” I ask curiously.

“I’ve never had trouble talking with you.” She runs her hand through my hair with a look in her eyes that’s full of mischief. “Want to know the secret to that little trick?”

“Yeah, I do. That always kind of baffled me.”

“Pay attention, because I don’t give away how I do my tricks.”

“I’m listening.”

She raises her chin. “Practice.”

“What do you mean?”

Her voice goes soft and vulnerable. “I’ve had years of practice. I’ve liked you since forever. You were my friend when we were younger, and you were always so handsome. I never felt awkward around you, because I’ve known you for so long. Pretending I didn’t have a crush on you was the greatest trick I ever pulled off.”

I let her admission soak in, and it makes sense, in a way, as I flashback to all the compliments she’s given me in the last few weeks. Still, I’m kind of amazed, and awed, too. “Are you for real?”

“I’ve always had a thing for you, Nick,” she says, as splashes of red color her cheeks.

A new burst of happiness spreads through me. “Do one thing for me, Harper.”

“Name it.”

“Don’t ever break that spell.”

“I won’t,” she says, taking my hand and threading her fingers through mine. She squeezes then adds, “That’s why kissing you and making love with you never felt like lessons. It didn’t feel like practice to me, Nick. It always felt real.”

There’s a warm glow in my chest, and I’m sure I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have this girl be mine. “It was always real for me, too,” I say softly. “It was always true.”

She dives in for another kiss, then gives me a dopey smile. “So you really love me, huh?”

I laugh. “I really love you.”

“I am one lucky girl.”

I sigh contentedly. “This has been a perfect afternoon. There’s only one thing that can make this better.”

“Cake?” she asks eagerly.

“That, and something else.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Want to get out of here?”

She squeezes my fingers. “Hell yes.”

I take her back to my place, and as soon as the door falls shut, we strip each other, tugging off clothes and grabbing at hair and tumbling into my room.

In seconds she pins my wrists, lowers herself onto me, and rides me hard and beautifully as the sun dips in the sky. She takes control, her hips circling, her back arching, her lips falling open as she moves up and down. She sets the rhythm, and I follow her lead, watching every flutter of her eyelids, every bounce of her breasts. Soon, she bends lower, brings her face to mine, and whispers in my ear, “I just love you.”

“I just love you, too,” I say as I yank her closer, and the woman I treasure falls apart with me as we come together again.

We stay in bed for a little while, talking and touching, until my phone rings. It’s Serena, and she’s home from the hospital. A little later, we stop by to visit her and Jared and give them the baby gifts for their son. They named him Logan. Then Harper and I go to Peace of Cake to celebrate being together.

It’s a date. It’s definitely a date.

Wait. It’s so much more. It’s the start of a new storyline for us. The story of this great love of my life.





Epilogue





Several Months Later



They wobble. They sway. Then, with a resounding clatter, all ten bowling pins fall. Harper thrusts her arms high and struts over to me.

“Strike!”

I high-five her, even though she’s walloping me.

“Say it,” she says playfully, as she loops her arm around my neck.

“You kick my ass in bowling every single time,” I say, repeating the truth of our life together. I’ve only beaten her once, in our very first rematch after the night she went sexy librarian on me. Every time since then, she’s destroyed me, and I swear it has nothing to do with how absolutely distracted I get checking out her ass as she takes her turn in the lane. Nope, she’s just really good, and she’s about to clobber me for the tenth match in a row.