“Really good now.” She presses her fingertips together. “Eeep! I’m sorry, but look at you two, all happy and holding hands. This is so exciting.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Does this mean the curse is broken for you?”

I would never admit it to anyone, but I can feel a weight slowly lifting off my chest every day Harper buries herself deeper and deeper into my life again. It might be the curse breaking, it might be in my head, but whatever it is, I feel like I’m getting another chance, and there is no way in hell I’m going to mess it up this time.

But for show, I barely contain my eye roll. “Come on, Ruth.” She smiles sheepishly, but it’s kind of endearing, her romantic heart. “We’re taking things slow,” I add, so Harper doesn’t have to feel awkward. We’re taking things really slow, as in we haven’t even kissed yet.

“Slow is good. Slow gives you a chance to get to know each other again, you know, explore things.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Christ, Ruth, you’re just as bad as Brig.”

At the mention of my brother’s name, her smile falls flat, and she immediately starts to fidget. Brig’s the only one in town who doesn’t see the way Ruth looks at him. It’s obvious she has a crush on him, but being the sweet, shy girl that she is, she would never, ever make the first move. She doesn’t even talk about it when you bring up the subject. Ren asked once, and Ruth quickly dismissed the notion.

Tossing her towel over her shoulder, she taps away on the tablet in front of her. “What can I get you two this morning?”

I give our order—two breakfast croissants with bacon and black coffees—and then nod toward a table in the corner that offers some privacy. “Go snag that table for us while I finish up here.”

Harper nods and then takes off just as I turn back to Ruth. “Put it on my tab, and if you ever want to . . . talk about things that might be weighing heavily on you, I’m here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because every time I mention Brig’s name, a light sheen of sweat coats your upper lip.”

“What?” she asks, wiping her lip. “No it does not.”

Chuckling, I take the coffee cups from her. “It doesn’t, but glad to see where you stand. Talk about my love life, and I’ll talk about yours, Ruth.”

I give her a playful wink and head toward Harper as Ruth calls out, “I have no love life.”

If only Brig weren’t so dense.

Sitting cross-legged in a pair of gray yoga pants and snow boots, Harper looks like a sexy snow bunny ready to take on the slopes.

“You look hot,” I say, taking a seat across from her. I hold out her coffee, which she takes, pulling off the lid to let the steam out.

“Hot as in good looking?”

I lean forward. “As in taking things slow is going to be extremely painful for me.”

“You’ll survive.” She blows on her coffee. “So I told my dad about us last night.”

Oh hell, I hope it went well. I’m not sure I could take a breakup in this coffeehouse right now.

“Yeah? What did he say?”

She sets her coffee on the table. “Oh, you know, the basic things like, He’s a dear friend, but I’ll cut off his ding-dong if he hurts you again. And I believe him. Mr. Sanders may be a loveable and sweet man, but he means business when it comes to his promises. And his daughter.”

“Understandable.”

Her features soften as she smiles. “He also said he was really happy for us, happy that we were able to work things out. He likes you, always has, and hated to see us apart.”

“So did my parents,” I admit. “My mom cried for a while when I came home and told her that I ended things with you. For like two weeks, every time she saw me, she would cry. It was as if she was mourning the relationship.”

“You know what they say: breakups are always hardest on the families.”

“I believe that. Jen didn’t talk to me for months. She always thought you were too good for me. She was right.”

“She was,” Harper agrees, smiling.

“I see how it’s going to be.” I playfully roll my eyes as Ruth brings us our sandwiches and gives a curt smile before returning to the counter.

Harper leans forward conspiratorially. “So what was with Ruth when you mentioned Brig’s name? Does she like him?”

“I think so, but she would never say anything, and Brig is too blind to even notice.”

“They would be so cute together. The coffeehouse owner and the mechanic. It’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, Brig would have to figure it out first.”

“Why don’t you suggest it?” Harper asks, taking a bite of her sandwich. “It’s unlike you Knightlys to stay out of each other’s business.”

“Because you have to handle Brig differently. The more you put in his head, the grander he makes it. He needs to figure things out for himself. He’s a romanticizer, and I would hate to plant the bug in his head only to have him blow it out of proportion. That would just hurt Ruth in the long run.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” She sighs. “Poor Ruth.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out.” I nudge her foot with mine. “On a different note, when do I get to lock down that second date?”

“Isn’t that what this is? Coffee and breakfast in the morning?”

I scoff. “Harper, we’re older now. I don’t have to rely on cheap dates to impress you.”

“But the cheap dates are the best,” she counters with a wicked grin. “Some of our best moments were spent on the old floorboards of an abandoned house.”

“And it’s time to make some new ones, don’t you think? If we’re going to date again, I think we need to move on from the past.”

“But I love the past. I was happiest in the past,” she says quietly, staring down at her sandwich.

Happiest in the past. Hell, so was I, but the past also contains all my pain. I can’t be the professional football star I always dreamed of, and I can’t take back all the hurtful things I said to Harper. It’s why I want to move on, start anew.

So why is she so reluctant?

Why are you really here, Harper? What made you come home?

The questions are on the tip of my tongue. I desperately want to know what happened. What could she possibly be hiding?

But I don’t want to push her, not right away. I have time for that. Right now, I need to gain her trust.

“I was happy too, Harp. But think about all the new memories we can create. Let me show you. Come to my house on Friday.”

She perks up a little. “Ooh, I get to see the elusive Elbert Elms Cottage?”

“Yeah, and you can sit at the bar in the kitchen, drinking wine while I cook you dinner.”

Her brows rise. “Wine and cooking. I guess we’re older now, huh?”

“We are, but we’ll always have sixth grade.”

A smirk replaces her worried brow. “We will always have that.”

“So . . . date night, this Friday?”

“What about mystery mistress? Are you still going to visit her, maybe take me along with you?”

“Nice try.” I grin. “Not yet. I think I need to win you over a little bit more. I’ll visit her first and then have you over.”

“I’m not the one you need to worry about walking away,” she says with a pointed look in my direction.

I know she’s being playful, but I glimpse the insecurity in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Harp. Walking away from you is not an option.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

HARPER

“How’s it going?” Rogan’s deep, smooth voice travels over my skin, igniting my body.

From over my shoulder, I spot that devastating smile surrounded by the perfect amount of scruff and strong, firm jaw.

“Hey,” I whisper. “It seems like everything is going well.” Filming started yesterday, and the production crew couldn’t be happier with the choice of locations, especially the Harbor Walk House, which is where we are today, working on the scene when Chris, our hero, reflects on the importance of his dad’s candy shop. I was caught off guard when I received the schedule and saw they film everything out of order. So now I’m really interested to see how all of this is going to come together.

“No problems with the renters?” he asks.

“Nope, they were more than accommodating and put all their stuff away before shooting.”

“Good.” From behind his back, Rogan hands me a 3 Musketeers bar. “For when you need a sugar fix. I know you; when your blood sugar gets low, you become a beast.”

“I do not.”

“No?” He lifts a rakish eyebrow. “How about that time you screamed at me in my truck over braking for a butterfly? You repeatedly told me I was going to hell for not stopping and then proceeded to hysterically cry until I got a doughnut inside you.”

Yikes, he got me there. I remember that afternoon vividly. I was so concerned for the butterfly and horrified that Rogan didn’t stop the truck in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until I consumed the doughnut did I realize how ridiculous I was.

“Okay, one time.”

He chuckles into my ear and kisses my cheek. “I have a meeting I have to run to; keep an eye on everything for me?”

“Do you really think my allegiance lies with you?”