And now, it seems, he was about to swallow the bitter bile of rage, courtesy of one unfortunately hot-looking former love of his life, Harper Landry, right here in the confines of his Subaru Outback along the glorious coastline of North Carolina. Noah had hoped to avoid such an encounter by eventually approaching Harper on his terms, but fate had something entirely different in mind. Here he sat, temporarily driving Uber while he got his shit together, and there she perched, his fare for the next twenty minutes, with a date, no less. One whose hand—judging by the view when he readjusted his rearview mirror—was crawling up her thigh.
Well, fuck. This was so not the plan he’d mapped out in his head, which involved maybe lavishing her with flowers and champagne and perhaps even a puppy—she’d always wanted a puppy, hadn’t she? But now, instead, not only was he about to get a well-deserved ream of steaming shit served on a silver platter, but he also had to digest the fact that he was delivering this evidently happy, horny couple to one address—and not hers, considering the unfamiliar locale. That meant she was likely heading to his house for a night of unbridled sex with this asshole who was staking his claim on the woman he’d fantasized about reconciling with after all these years (not to mention having bitter recriminations). Damn, he had his work cut out for him.
“Wait a minute—is that you, Harper?” He glanced in the rearview mirror in time to catch the lacerating glare of her eyes.
Her lip snarled. “Noah? Is that you? Noah love-’em-and-leave-’em Gunderson?” She threw him the stink-eye. “Not surprised you wouldn’t recognize me. That usually happens when you leave without a backward glance.”
Touché. He paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. He didn’t want to blow it on the first go-round. He figured there were going to be many of these if he wanted to try to win her back. It wasn’t going to be easy; even he recognized that he’d behaved like a cad when he left her with no warning. It was inexcusable, and he knew he’d better not start making excuses now.
Headlights coming toward him illuminated his passengers in the backseat. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he noted Harper had grown into a beautiful woman: those nearly translucent eyes he’d stared into so many times brought to mind the tropical waters of Bali. He’d spent time there and went on a whale watch in search of the magnificent blue whale, the largest animal on the planet, weighing in at 150 tons and up to 100 feet long. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle to behold. Yet as amazing as that was, was it better than the many quiet times he and Harper spent holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes? Hard to say, but right now he’d give anything to have that back.
He stole a glance at her hair—it had the slightest glimmer of copper threading its way through the chestnut curls—and yearned to run his fingers through it again as he’d done so many times before. His fingers clutched the steering wheel as he gritted his teeth. He’s the one who threw that all away. He wasn’t entitled to be mad at her or even jealous of the doofus coming onto her in the back seat. Well, okay, he could be jealous of him. Pissed even. She was everything he remembered her to be, only instead of the ubiquitous smile boasting those bright white teeth, she wore a scowl that he knew was reserved for him. Talk about a sucker punch to the gut.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I was back in town.”
“Huh,” she said. “Why on earth would you? Seems entirely in keeping with your not letting me know you were leaving town. At any rate, you must’ve thought I’d want to know.” She paused, her eyes thin slivers, like an angry snake. “You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone who cares.”
She was always good at digging the knife in when she wanted to.
“I’m sorry. Of course not,” he said, adjusting the rearview mirror again so he could get a better look at what that little shit was doing with Harper. He wasn’t sure which was paining him more: her churlish rejection of him, or the fact that this man’s hands were roaming her body while he had no other choice but to drive the car and feign ignorance.
God. Were they a couple? Had they been together for long? He’d received updates on Harper while his mother was alive, at least until she was too sick to bother anymore. She’d adored Harper and had hoped so much that Noah would rethink things and try to reclaim his long-lost love. He felt awful that it took his mother’s death to kick him hard enough in the ass to even attempt it. But maybe it was too late. He hadn’t contemplated that and instead assumed that somewhere in the back of his selfish brain, she’d be waiting for him. That was his first mistake.
The car was silent but for the whoosh-whoosh of the windshield wipers and the thrum of raindrops on the car roof. Oh and the giggles emanating from Harper’s mouth. Knowing that jerk was eliciting those responses from her was making Noah crazy. What was he doing? Where were his hands now? A glance in the mirror revealed him leaning toward Harper, his nose practically stuck in her ear. He was whispering sweet nothings, buttering her up, getting her ready for the close. Noah wasn’t stupid. He was, after all, a guy and recognized the silent negotiations going on, the push-pull of who was going to be allowed to do what and when. Judging by the joyful noises coming from his ex-girlfriend, that dude was going to for gold. Four aces. A hat trick.
Crap. He couldn’t let this happen right under his nose. Even if it was his own damned fault. He couldn’t have finally figured things out in that obtuse brain of his, only to discover it was too late because this monkey was swinging from her tree while he chauffeured them around the greater Verity Beach metropolitan area. He needed to do something to thwart this. He realized he hadn’t turned up his music again. Normally for a late-night call like this, he played seduction music; he figured the couple would appreciate the warm-up tunes. But now he switched to his world music channel, and the sound of a loud singer with a heavy synthetic drumbeat filled the car.
“So, Harps,” he said. “I was under the impression you were single.”
A look in the mirror revealed that diversionary question stopped Harper in her tracks. Sweet. Better still, it halted Mr. Wonderful from advancing the troops temporarily. For the win.
Harper frowned. “Do you mean now, or do you mean four years ago, when you left me high and dry while you indulged yourself and took off to sow your wild oats, or whatever the hell you were doing?”
Man, this was not going to be easy. Good thing Noah loved a challenge.
“About that.” He arched his brow and flicked his turn signal on. The car was uncomfortably quiet save for the click, click, click of the blinker. The sound could’ve been his brain, trying desperately to come up with a good excuse. His mind was like a lighter that had run out of butane, so as many times as you might flick that flint, no flame was gonna start up. The sucky thing was he didn’t have one.
Damn, life was so much simpler when you screwed up but had such an amazing explanation, the person you hurt couldn’t remain mad. Shame he couldn’t fabricate one right now. Fact was, he’d had four years to figure out the best way to explain it to Harper, and he’d not bothered to. Maybe in some ways, he hadn’t delved deep enough into it. Maybe he’d been running so much he hadn’t bothered with enough introspection. He knew he owed that to her. But how?
“I was hoping we could sit down and talk a little bit at some point in time?” He ended the sentence on an up-tone, attempting to be hopeful in the face of the undeniably pessimistic reality that she was more than likely about to go home and have sex with the douchebag next to her. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
He ducked his head enough to catch her vigorously shaking her head in his mirror. “Oh, no,” she said. “The only catching that was attempted was me trying to find you to figure out why you did what you did. Too little too late to try to make things nice now. My boyfriend and I are quite happy, thank you.” To emphasize the point, she leaned in and kissed the bastard: her lips over his, mouth wide open. He clenched his jaw and squeezed hard on the steering wheel. It made him nuts to see her do that to such an undeserving c
haracter. Not that he knew a thing about him, but nevertheless that guy—and anyone after him—would always be the wrong man for Harper.
But what if the right guy had played his cards all wrong and blown it?
Chapter Four
Harper used to wonder how she’d react if and when Noah came back. She’d rehearsed a hundred different responses, some of which might have involved a level of moderate yet uncharacteristic violence. For instance, there was that little fantasy about rewarding him for his betrayal with a solid left hook to his snout, which she could argue wasn’t particularly mean under the circumstances; it would be practically well-deserved. It’s not as if she’d thought about whipping out a stiletto blade and slicing his throat or anything. But then again, an appropriately placed kick with a stiletto heel? Well, maybe she hadn’t quite ruled that out.
She wasn’t one to hold grudges, but damn. Noah’s near evaporation into thin air four years ago, only days after their college graduation, had left Harper desperate for answers she’d never have and so riddled with self-doubt that, well, she could barely figure out how to be in a relationship with another man if the opportunity arose. To date, it hadn’t, and as a result, she hadn’t truly faced her demons—she wasn’t sure how she could ever trust a man again.
And then all of a sudden, right here, right now, the guy shows up? Talk about bad timing. She’d had a lovely evening with Danny Greevy and she’d enjoyed getting to know him a bit, until that was all eclipsed when, out of nowhere, Noah appeared and inserted himself into her little momentary happy bubble, sticking a sharp needle in to pop it. What the hell? Who died and gave him permission to do that to her?
On second thought, perhaps that wasn’t delicately phrased, considering his mother had died not long ago. Or at least that’s what Harper had heard through the grapevine. Even all these years later, people loved to keep her informed when someone had a bead on anything that might involve Noah.
Most often she politely explained that she no more wanted to hear about Noah than she wanted to be told she had an incurable disease. Usually that shut people up. Though plenty of folks had made certain she was aware that his mama had passed. Which was a shame—she thought highly of Millie Gunderson, who’d tried to stay in touch with Harper at first when her son pulled his runner. She’d sort of taken it personally herself, so Harper couldn’t even be mad at her by extension. After all what mama would want her son to up and disappear like that? But still, it rankled Harper enough that she didn’t want to deal with anything that had even the slightest DNA connection to Noah, so she quickly let slide that tenuous relationship. She stopped answering Millie’s calls, and pretty soon Millie gave up reaching out altogether.
Harper always wondered if it was the legacy of Noah’s father that drove him to skip town so unceremoniously. This was something Noah would never discuss, except to say that his dad had chosen early on to shun fatherhood—something about him being allergic to it. She figured if Noah ever wanted to discuss it, he would, so she let it be. Allergic. Perhaps it was more like there was a runaway gene that threaded through Noah’s lineage, and he was only following the family mandate. Well, to hell with that. She had no obligation to be victimized yet again by that nonsense; she would simply avoid Noah Gunderson like the plague now that he was back in town. Driving Uber, of all things. Super weird since he was always planning to go to law school. Why on earth would he become a glorified cabbie instead?
She had even more unanswered questions about him, but she wasn’t going to let that interfere with her lovely date. Danny was handsome and charming and thoughtful and funny, and she could show Noah what she thought about his dropping a precision-guided emotional bomb into her unwilling lap.
That’s why she decided now was as good a time as any to make it abundantly clear where her allegiances lay—with the cute dirty blond whose thighs were pressed against hers in the backseat of her former boyfriend’s car. Perhaps it was a little premature, but at least the message would be sent loud and clear: stay the hell out of my life, Noah Gunderson.
When she pressed her lips to Danny’s, she presumed there would be the usual fireworks. Wasn’t that always what happened when you kissed a guy? Inquiring minds wanted to know because to date, Harper’s only experience with kissing a boy had been Noah. They’d dated all through middle and high school and even survived four years at Chapel Hill. He was her first—and last—kiss. After Noah, for a long time she’d had no interest. And then came everyone insisting it was time to get back on that horse, and with that came the succession of loser dates, and she sure as hell wasn’t gonna waste the time and effort to swap spit with those guys. But she did assume that kissing led to the tingly feeling in your stomach, the swoony bit that made your head dizzy with excitement. When two peoples’ lips locked, and their bodies were pressed to one another, the electricity that was generated… Wow. She’d completely given up on that after Noah.
Yet now here she was, just like riding a bike, only it felt a bit as if the bike had a flat tire. Maybe it took some working up to get to the good stuff.
As she released her lip-lock with Danny, she giggled, knowing it would make Noah crazy. Danny nuzzled her neck, and Harper caught Noah staring at the unfolding drama in the back seat with a look that was both pained and angry, his lips pinched but his eyes achingly sad. It almost made her feel bad for him.
“That was a pleasant surprise,” Danny said, oblivious to the elephant that had plunked his ample ass smack dab in the middle of the car.
“Pleasant being the operative word,” she said loud enough for Noah to hear. “That was quite nice.”
“This is our stop,” Danny said, coaxing his fingers through Harper’s hair. “You still up for that nightcap?”
“Wouldn’t dream of not coming in,” Harper said, pasting on a hyperenthusiastic smile that she knew far exceeded her desire level. Sure, Danny seemed nice and all, but maybe this was going a little fast, and maybe she’d be better off going home. Better yet, maybe she’d be better off if Noah Gunderson had stayed the hell out of her life once and for all.
Chapter Five
Nightcap? Noah grumbled quietly as he guided the car toward the curb in front of the cute little cedar shake beach bungalow that was the destination of his fare. One of whom was fair. The other of whom wasn’t playing fair. Then again, what was that saying? All’s fair in love and war? Doofus probably didn’t even know there was a war going on. Doofus? More like Dean Martin, what with that cheesy “nightcap” line. Noah felt as if he was carting around part of the damned Rat Pack in the back seat.
Who even used the word nightcap? Maybe that guy who wrote “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” but that was written a couple hundred years ago, wasn’t it? Then again maybe that was “kerchief,” not a nightcap. Kerchief, nightcap, whatever. No matter the word, it was plain weird. What bozo lured women in with nightcaps in this day and age?
As Harper unfastened her seatbelt, Noah quickly stepped out of the car and scurried around to open her door for her, hoping the yahoo next to her would walk out the other door and keep on walking into the nearby ocean. It was high tide, after all. It wouldn’t take long for him to fully submerge. A man could fantasize, couldn’t he?
He reached a hand out to help Harper over a puddle next to the curb. Surprisingly, she accepted it.
“Can I call you sometime, Harps?” Noah’s eyebrows ski-sloped down toward the center of his face. God, he hated leaving her here to do whatever she might be about to do with this yutz. But what else could he do?
Harper shook her hand free of his and walked into the waiting arm of her dreary date. She turned her head toward Noah. “You’ve got to be joking.”
With that, she followed the man up to his front door without a backward glance.
And Noah knew he deserved that.
~*~
Noah sat in front of the house for a few minutes longer, waiting to see which lights were turned on, and worse still, to see if any the
n were turned off, like a damned second-floor bedroom light. It killed him to imagine what might happen. That said, he didn’t even want to think if they were too busy to bother flicking off the switch.
One thing was for sure: he was damn well turned on seeing Harper for the first time in so many years. He thought it impossible she could be even more gorgeous than before, but she was. Beautiful beyond words. Which only led him to question his own stupidity and cowardice all the more. Except that was water under the bridge at this point. You can’t bring back yesterday, so why dwell on it? His mom always told him if you’re busy looking back, you might miss what’s ahead of you.
He decided it made more sense to focus on clues Harper had left behind. Little tiny verbal breadcrumbs scattered in the back seat of his car.
“Nice,” he said, warming his hands in front of the car heater. He’d turned off the AC, allowing his windows to steam up a bit. He hated that you had to keep it on even when the weather was cold. What a stupid design flaw that was, having to blast the heat with the AC on.
“Nice,” he said, pressing his pointer finger to the condensation on the window and tracing the letters. N-I-C-E. “‘Nice’ works great if you’re describing your favorite cousin Ginny. Or maybe a teacher you particularly liked in the third grade. As in, ‘Oh, I thought Miss O’Grady was so nice!’” He laughed out loud at his dumb joke.
But nice? About a kiss? Hell no.
“Clue number two?” he said aloud. Then he drew the next word on the front windshield. “Pleasant.” He underlined the word twice. “No woman who’s horny and passionate for a guy says his kiss is ‘pleasant.’ You might say to your minister ‘that was a most pleasant sermon.’ Or you might discuss the temperature and say it was pleasant. But if a woman is hot for a man, pleasant is not in her vocabulary. At that point, she’s not interested in talking. Rather she would be tugging up his shirt and grasping for his belt buckle and fumbling with the pants button so she could get her hands down there as soon as humanly possible.” Pleasant my ass.
Falling for Mr. Wrong Page 2
