Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“You fit exactly where I want you to,” he says.
I shake my head. “That’s not really how the world works.”
“It is for me,” he replies. “And it can be for you too…”
I look at him now.
“You are really quite beautiful, Harper,” he says finally. “Not just your looks, but as a person, what you’ve sacrificed for your brother, for your family. I’ve never met someone like you.”
I am both embarrassed and flattered, unsure of what to say. Luckily, he continues so I don’t have to respond.
“If two people want something,” he says, leaning forward enough that his focus holds mine completely, “they don’t stand around overthinking it until it passes them by. They don’t let fear or circumstances make the decision for them.”
I brush a lock of hair out of my face.
“They go for it,” he says simply. “I spent a long time doing the opposite, convincing myself that if something was complicated, it wasn’t worth the risk. That stepping back was the smart choice.” He pauses, gaze unwavering. “But life doesn’t wait for you to figure it out. It keeps moving. And if you don’t act, you miss it.”
There’s nothing dramatic in how he says it. He’s speaking what he believes is the truth.
“I don’t intend to miss it,” he says.
Sweat forms at my brow.
“I want this,” he adds, no hesitation in it.
“I’m not sure what to say,” I manage. “I mean, you’re incredible, it’s just, this is so…” I trail off.
“The question, Harper, is do you want this too?”
I look at him, knowing this is where I either step back… or don’t.
And then I smile, small at first, then it takes over my whole face and maybe even my body, because that’s the only answer I can give.
“Juli—” I start, though I don’t even know what I’m about to say.
He doesn’t wait. He moves close and kisses me. Not tentative but immediate and sure, like he’s already decided this matters and there’s no reason to pretend otherwise. The world outside the glass disappears, the city, the room, all of it fading until there’s only him and the way everything inside me shifts to meet it.
My hand finds his jacket without thinking, gripping lightly as the kiss deepens, pulling out a side out of me that I’d held back.
When he finally pulls away, it’s like he’s leaving just enough space between us for me to catch my breath, which comes a little uneven.
I look at him, knowing—without needing to say it—that everything just changed.
Chapter 17
Julian
The arena comes into view as the last of the early-evening light fades. Game nights always carry an electricity, visible even from the parking lot, in the steady flow of fans and how people move with excitement toward the doors.
Tonight is no different. And yet, for me, it is.
It’s been five days since that first real dinner with Harper, and in that short span, everything has changed in a way I didn’t ever anticipate and, more notably, have not resisted. We’ve had dinner two more times, each evening ending long before I wanted it to. Every hour I’ve spent with her since has only strengthened my initial impression. The more I learn, the more there is to learn. She’s layered, and each layer makes her more and more compelling.
I’ve spent time with extraordinary people my entire life, but very few of them have held my attention like she does.
I pull the Range Rover into my reserved space. I’m driving and there was a slight disagreement with Harper when she arrived to pick me up tonight. She’s in work mode and well, I want to be in play mode. This line between professional and personal blurs more every day, and I don’t want her to be on the clock. I told her as much and insisted she sit her pretty butt in the passenger seat tonight.
I remain seated, watching the movement of the lot through the windshield—fans in Vipers’ colors, staff weaving between vehicles, the anticipation building as the evening takes shape.
My reverie is broken when Harper hops out of the passenger seat and walks around the front of the car to my side. She pulls open my door, as any good chauffeur would do despite the fact I drove and she did not.
Then I reach into the back seat and pull the Vipers jersey out of the bag I’d tossed back there. I step out of the car and let it unfurl. It’s clean, simple—green lettering against white jersey fabric—and the name across the back. Her name: Hawthorne.
“I had this made for you,” I say as I hold it up for her to see.
Her expression changes immediately. “Julian…”
“I want you to come in and watch the game with me,” I say, extending it toward her.
She takes it carefully, her fingers brushing over the lettering on the back—her name stitched on my team’s jersey. “It’s beautiful. But… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to watch the game with you.”