Page 24 of Jack

Now, that felt right. And maybe he could breathe deeper.

She let him go. “By the way, Harper told us what went down between you two.”

Oh,right for the jugular when he wasn’t looking. “That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah. Probably you could let that go?”

He nodded.Probably.

“For my sake, please just get along and stay out of trouble. She’s my best friend. You’re my big brother. I don’t want bloodshed.”

“If you make us dance together, that might not be possible. She stepped on my foot twice.”

Right then, Harper came into view, walking with Penelope to the buffet.

She was like an accident—he couldn’t look away. “What is she doing now?”

“Freelance writer. She wants to cover our wedding.” Brontë gave Oaken a side-eye. “By the way.”

Oaken raised his eyebrows. “We’re going to need to talk.”

“And that woman with her—Penelope Pepper,” Jack continued. “I didn’t realize you two were friends.”

“She came to us about six months ago, asked to tell our side of the Mike Grizz attempted murder.”

“She did a great job,” Oaken said.

“I know. I heard it. And I’m listening to the new one.”

“About the girl in Minneapolis who got killed in her apartment? I tried to get the name of the killer out of Penelope, but she wouldn’t tell.” She glanced at a man walking up to her. “Moose, you made it.”

She turned to the big man, dark hair, holding hands with a pretty woman and a little girl, maybe eight years old. Helookedlike a moose, all burly muscle and dark gray-green eyes.

Jack stepped away as Boo hugged Moose and Oaken shook his hand, and Jack’s gaze fell again on Harper.

That black jumpsuit hugged her body, brightened her blond hair. And her entire face lit up when she laughed, maybe at something Penelope said.

He was about to turn away when another man walked up to Harper, tall, with a sort of regal Henry Cavill jaw and demeanor.

Let it go.

Lethergo.

He hadn’t realized until now that he hadn’t.

His father whistled from the front, and the room quieted as he greeted the guests and led them in a prayer for dinner.

Jack stood in line for the buffet and loaded up his plate. He found a seat beside the guy he’d met earlier, the man named Axel, and learned that his girlfriend with the auburn hair was a cop who talked about some drug dealer she was hunting in Anchorage. On the other side of her, Doyle was engaged in a conversation with some blonde woman with a hint of a British accent about the need for funding for more international search and rescue teams. Probably doing his spiel about the tragedy of international trafficking, which of course Jack could agree with.

But he couldn’t tear his gaze off Harper, really.

Sheesh,she’d thrown him off his game so many years ago. Crept inside his brain and sat there, stirring up the what-ifs and should-haves.

Just survive the next five days without doing something stupid.

Toasts, and more toasts, and then the rundown by Bron—Boo—of the week’s activities. Then they were dismissed to the dance floor, the music by some local country band.

Harper had vacated her seat.