Page 5 of One More Chance
Jensen
I watchHarper shift in her seat. Well, in the swing we’re sharing. I can’t be sure but I think asking her to tell me about herself has made her uncomfortable, and I don’t know why.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell,” she says, her head down, a curtain of golden blonde hair covering her face.
And may I just add, it’s a gorgeous fucking face. I’m not a blind man. Anyone who didn’t notice her beauty definitely had to be. Harper has piercing blue eyes, and I do mean piercing. Even from a bit of a distance, it felt like she was looking into my soul. Her long blonde hair is straight but not lifeless. It cascades off her shoulders like a golden waterfall and I’ve stopped myself from touching it three times already. But her lips. Her pale pink lips look so full and soft. She has those naturally full lips, and I think bad things when I look at it so I’m trying really hard not to look at it.
“I’m sure there has to be,” I say, and she shrugs her shoulders, giving me a look I don’t quite understand. “You want me to go first?”
She nods her head.
“Okay, but for every one thing I tell you, you have to tell me something. Deal?” I ask. I don’t really understand why I’m trying so hard to know what’s behind her pretty face, but she seems a little guarded and that just further spurs my curiosity.
She reluctantly agrees.
“Now let’s see, what can I tell you first?” I say, looking up and away as if in deep thought. I even rub my thumb and index finger along my chin to really give her a show.
“Technically, you already told me your job. So, I should at least tell you I work here on the farm,” she says.
I nod my head, taking this information in and trying to understand what exactly one does on a farm. “So, do you milk cows and stuff?”
Harper lets out a small laugh, and I’m confused. Don’t farms have cows?
“Not quite,” she says. “This isn’t a dairy farm. We do have cows but they’re not for that. We have a store we run. Plus an orchard. And in the fall, we have pumpkin patches and hayrides. That sort of thing.”
“I never knew farming was so intense,” I admit.
“It can be,” she says.
“What else do you like to do?” My question gives her pause and she starts to wring her hands together in her lap. This woman really has anxiety about talking about herself. “For example, aside from my boring sales job, one of the reasons I took it is because I like to travel. And it allows me to do that. I’ve been to forty-three states and six countries.”
“I’ve never been anywhere,” she says. “Do you want more lemonade?” Harper stands and reaches for my glass.
She disappears inside, and I sit there comprehending her statement. It’s interrupted by the kicking up of gravel not far off and I look down the driveway to see a car followed by a truck making their way to the house. Harper is saved by the intrusion for now. I stand and walk to the edge of the porch, seeing my sister driving the car and Lyla following behind. The door swings open and shut behind me, and I see Harper join me from the corner of my eye.
She stands away from me by a few paces, quite careful and aware of her proximity. I can feel it radiating from her. She seems very measured, not that it’s a bad quality to have. But I wish she’d loosen up a bit. She seems knotted up pretty tightly. Maybe all the stuff with her sister’s wedding has been stressful. Weddings can be stressful, right?
I don’t know why I’m so concerned about her demeanor or the stressors of her life. Maybe my job in sales and ability to read people is spilling over right now; I can’t be sure. I did just finish traveling, and I’m always in need of a nap after that. I walk down the porch steps to greet my sister.
“Hello, bub!” Cora says as she steps out of the car.
Since childhood, Cora has called me bub. There have been some phases in my life. Like when I was sixteen and she would say it in front of all her hot friends. I begged her not to call me that anymore, but she refused to stop.
So here we are. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old bub. I smack my head even now because there are people around. Attractive people. I give her the look as I lean in for a hug. “Hey, sis. How was the trip?”
“Not terrible. I was seated next to this super cute guy who, as it turns out, lives here. Well, not here. But close to here. I told him I was coming for a wedding, and one thing led to another and now he’s gonna be my date!” She exclaims this to everyone very loudly and proudly.
I look back at Lyla who’s out of her truck and listening intently as well. “You invited a stranger to the wedding?” I ask, since everyone else has been shocked into silence.
“He’s not a stranger. We talked the entire flight. It was practically a date in itself,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.
I can see the torn expression on Lyla’s face, but she finally says, “Well, great!”
“Wait, what about me?” I ask, raising my hand into the air. “I’m supposed to be your plus one, remember?”
“Bub, listen, it’s nothing personal. But a real date with the chance of some dancing trumps a family date any time,” my sister says.
“Yes, that’s in the invisible rule book for crazy single people who haven’t been laid in a while,” Lyla says.