Page 48 of Singled Out

He’s beat on my door three times. Don’t worry, it’s locked, plus I moved my dresser against it.

I straightened and was on the verge of calling her when the next message came through: a winking emoji and a laughing emoji.

I should’ve guessed. Sagging into the cushion, I shook my head, eventually getting to the point where I could smile. As always, Harper was trouble walking.

Why couldn’t I seem to leave trouble alone?

I was still trying to come up with a reply when she sent another message.

Max? I was teasing. I’m fine.

Before I could answer that, she sent a photo of herself, which revved my pulse right back up.

She was waving and smiling, an open-mouthed, smart-aleck grin. Her dark hair was down except for a braid on each side of her part that went from her forehead to the back. Her eyes shone with mischief and a sparkly shade of lavender shadow. Her lips were glossed in a muted tone, her cheeks pink with a natural flush, and she wore a necklace with a light-purple, oval stone and earrings that coordinated, all of them set in silver. I was sure she’d made the pieces herself.

I couldn’t see more, couldn’t tell where she was beyond outside. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care, but I couldn’t pull it off.

No doubt she was trying to throw me off, as she liked to do.

I sat there shaking my head, grinning like that eighteen-year-old boy I wasn’t, weighing my options, halfheartedly attempting to talk myself out of giving it right back to her.

I lost the battle and typed in one word.

Hot.

She didn’t immediately reply, so I hoped I’d thrown her off.

When a full minute or two passed and she still hadn’t said anything, my confidence slipped. Had I misread her?

Maybe she was driving and couldn’t answer.

Or maybe my text flirting game was outdated and lame.

I stopped waiting for a reply, busying myself by prepping my bag for work tomorrow. I went to the kitchen to make my lunch as I always did before bed, but before I could pull out ingredients for a chicken wrap, there was a quiet knock at the front door.

My adrenaline started pumping at the thought it might be Harper. It was after nine p.m. on a Sunday. Who else would be at my door, particularly after our back-and-forth? Still, when I looked out the peephole and saw her standing on my doorstep, there was a punch to my chest that took the wind out of me and made my mouth go dry.

I opened the door and tried to look puzzled instead of really fucking happy to see her.

“Hi,” she said a little shyly. “Is Danny asleep?”

“He is.”

She relaxed a degree. “Do you mind if I come in?”

In response, I opened the door wider and stepped back. I was running possible comments through my mind, smart-ass ones, flirtatious ones, but I held them in, because suddenly the stakes were a lot higher with her staring up at me in the flesh.

“Am I interrupting anything?” she asked as she glanced around.

“Just an ill-advised flirtation via text messages with this hot girl I know.”

Her shoulders relaxed even more, and her smile widened, became more natural.

“What brings you by?” I asked. We weren’t on booty call level, though if she kissed me right now, I didn’t think I could resist the temptation.

“I just wanted to talk,” she said quickly, shutting down my line of thinking in a heartbeat.

Well, mostly. Because the parts of her that hadn’t shown in the photo were just as alluring as that pic she’d sent over.