Page 14 of Jack
“I heard she’s in the wedding.”
“Yes. Well, head down to the house—Brontë will get you checked in. And then”—she used the spatula to stir—“dinner is out at the Moonlight Supperclub.”
Austen waved as Harper left the kitchen.
Harper got in her car and headed down the road to Doyle’s place, Mama Em’s greeting sitting sweetly in her mind.
See?Maybe she would survive all of this.
Doyle’s place was a smaller version of the big house, with an apron porch, parquet flooring, a stone hearth, and three bedrooms upstairs. So much room for Doyle, but he had his reasons for wanting space, probably, after the tragedy.
She got out, left her bag in the car, and walked up the front porch. Knocked, then opened the door. “Boo?”
Footsteps sounded upstairs, and she shut the door. Stood there, listening for Boo’s voice, hearing her laughter upstairs.
Yes, she was going to be?—
“Harper.”
She turned, stilled, and of course, he looked . . .
Devastating.
Dark hair curling past his ears, wearing a denim shirt that outlined his shoulders, his muscled arms. A skim of dark whiskers, and worst of all, those crazy blue eyes the color of a stormy sky, cutting off her breathing, stripping words from her brain.
Jack.
She may have mouthed his name, because he arched a dark eyebrow.
He even smelled good, something of the woods and the sky and the sense of adventure radiating off him.
So. Not. Fair.
Footsteps thumped on the stairs, and she nearly collapsed into a heap when Boo called out, “Harper! Oh good, you made it.”
She nodded, her eyes still on Jack.Run. Or breathe.Something.
Boo grabbed her into a hug, and it did the job of tearing her gaze off Jack.
Beautiful, horrible Big Jack, the oldest of the Kingston clan—the charmer, the hockey captain, the Eagle Scout, her first and enduring childhood crush, who clearly still had a knee-wobbling effect on her.
Sheesh.
Boo let her go and looked at her, then Jack. “Perfect. You’re both in time for dance lessons.”
Dance . . . what . . .“Dance—wait—what?” Harper said.
Boo laughed then, her beautiful eyes lighting up. “Yeah. You’re walking down the aisle together, so guess what—you’re partners!”
Clearly, he already knew because his mouth tightened, a look of pain on his face. Yeah, well, her too.
Like,what was Boo thinking?
Did she have amnesia? Because certainly Boo knew . . . or maybe not. Harper fished back through her memories and found herself stuck.
“I know things were a little awkward between you too after—” Boo made a face and turned to Jack. “Well, we all know it was just a big misunderstanding, and so many years ago, and we’ve already paired up all the other bridesmaids—Austen with Steinbeck, and my current roommate, London, is walking down with our friend Shep, and Conrad is with Penelope, and Doyle . . . well, he’s agreed to be an usher, so that’s improvement, but . . .” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess you two were the only ones unmatched.”
Jack made a noise, deep inside his chest, but swallowed, nodded. “It’ll be fine, Brontë.”