Lawson went to his room and brushed his teeth. Twice. He didn't have time for a shower, but he splashed his face with cold water, shrugging on an old maroon cricket jumper. Lawson frowned, fingering the hole in the sleeve. Should he change?
He shook his head.
Oh, sod it. It doesn't matter, Lawson reminded himself sternly, taking the stairs two at a time. She's off-limits. This is a friendly exchange.
He almost believed it, too.
Harper was sitting on a window bench in the living room. She was dressed in a pair of jean dungarees, leafing through a book. Her brown hair was tied in a knot, and several strands had escaped, curling around her chin. She looked up as Lawson approached, her eyes the colour of melting chocolate in the buttery morning light.
"Banksy?" Harper held up the book. "You don't strike me as the type to be into art."
He leaned against the mantle. "It belongs to my sister."
"She has good taste."
"Paige would agree," Lawson said dryly. "My sister tells me on a daily basis that she has better taste than me."
He watched as Harper reshelved the book, crouching down to reach the lower shelves. A tag peeked out from the top of her shirt, and Lawson had the oddest urge to tuck it back in. Which was insane. He was obviously dehydrated. Or delusional.
Harper straightened. "You look terrible."
Lawson's mouth quirked. "It's lovely to see you too, Ohio."
"Here."
Harper held out his signet ring, the silver flashing in the sunlight. Lawson arched an eyebrow.
"A proposal?" he asked. "This early on a Sunday morning? I wish I'd dressed for the occasion."
"Hilarious," Harper said, pressing the ring into his hand. "I'm Harper, by the way. You ran off before I could introduce myself properly this morning."
Lawson winced inwardly. Snuck out, more like. But if Harper wasn't going to call him on it, then he was hardly going to volunteer that information.
"I know who you are," Lawson said.
Harper searched his face. "But you didn't recognize me last night."
"No."
Obviously not. Although, Lawson reflected, it wasn't entirely his fault; now that he was thinking about it, Griffin had never shown him a photo of Harper. He hadn't shown any of the boys a photo of her. And — God help him — Lawson understood why, now.
She was gorgeous. Helen-of-Troy gorgeous.
No wonder Griffin was so protective of her.
Lawson slipped the ring back on. "You could have waited until I got home, you know."
Harper's brow creased. "I'm out for the afternoon. Wedding cake tasting with Diana." She adjusted her purse. "And anyway, Griffin said you'd miss it."
That, Lawson reflected, was true; even now, he was fiddling with the ring, running his fingers over the familiar dips and grooves. He had noticed it missing straight away this morning. It steadied him. Especially this time of year, when things were...
Well. Difficult.
"I should get going," Harper said. "Enjoy the rest of your breakfast."
She adjusted her bag again, making for the door. Lawson frowned at the bulky bag. Good lord. What on earth was she keeping in there? Make-up? An extra pair of shoes? An atomic bomb large enough to destroy the world? A black column peeked out, and it took Lawson a moment to identify it: a camera lens.
That's right.
Harper was a photographer, wasn't she? Hazy memories from last night stirred in his brain. Jake Parker. The scrapbook. She'd said she liked taking photos of things, things that reminded her of love. She'd been doing it for years.
An idea sparked.
"Wait!" Lawson called.
Harper paused by the door, looking alarmed. Lawson didn't blame her; he could hear the urgency in his own voice.
"Did you say that you're a photographer?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "You remembered."
Lawson took a step forward. "My mother has a gardening show on Tuesday. Her photographer cancelled. Would you be able to fill in for him?"
Her eyebrows climbed higher. "A gardening show?"
"Yes."
"I have no idea what that is."
"That's fine." Lawson waved her off. "Flowers make very agreeable subjects. They never complain about being photographed."
Harper nibbled her lip. "I don't know."
Lawson's stomach tightened. Firstly, because the sight of Harper biting her lip was incredibly distracting — for god's sake, was this girl trying to torture him? — and secondly, because he wanted her to agree. No, he needed her to agree. It was the perfect way to apologize to his mother. To make amends for what Lawson was now privately referring to as the Pansy Situation.™
"What if we made a deal?" Lawson asked. "You said you need a date to your father's wedding, right?" When Harper nodded, he took a step forward. "I'll help you find one."
Harper looked incredulous. "You?"
"Me."
She fiddled with the strap of her bag. "I thought you didn't believe in dating."
"I don't believe in love," Lawson corrected her. "Big difference."
"No offense," Harper said, "but I don't really want to date any of your friends." She wrinkled her nose. "They're all a little..."
"Ugly?"
"I was going to say smug."
"Fine," Lawson said. "None of my friends, then." He couldn't deny that some selfish part of him was relieved. Not that he'd ever touch Harper with a ten-foot pole, now that he knew she was Griffin's sister, but still; he didn't need it paraded in front of him. "There will be plenty of eligible candidates at Tuesday's party, and the great news is that I don't know half of them. We'll find you someone."
Harper dropped her hand. "I don't know."
Lawson sighed. Oh, for god's sake. He was out of cards to play; he'd have to resort to begging. He crossed the room, clasping her hands.
"Please?" he asked.
Harper tilted her head back. A kaleidoscope of colour tumbled in her eyes — honey yellow, amber and chocolate — and her cheeks were slightly flushed. The smell of orchids drifted up to him, dizzying and intoxicating.
"I'm going to regret this," Harper murmured.
A wave of relief filled him. "So you'll do it?"
"There's no need to look surprised." Harper took a step back, half-turning away. "I suspect that people always say yes to you, don't they?"
It was true. But still. Lawson crossed his arms, feeling suddenly cold as she walked towards the door. Then again, that could be the hangover. He hoped it was the hangover.
"Thank-you," he said. "I'll make sure you're added to the guest list."
Harper paused by the door. "And Lawson?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you," Harper said. "For lying about why we were in the closet." She shuffled her feet, looking down at the hideously expensive rug. "Griffin doesn't know about Jake. I'd prefer to keep it that way."
Lawson inclined his head. "Understood."
He watched as Harper slipped through the door, her footsteps sounding down the hall. He'd never kept something from the boys before. The Wilder Boys didn't keep secrets; at least, not from each other. But Harper Lane had changed that.
In fact, Lawson thought with a sense of foreboding, he suspected Harper was about to change everything between them. And she didn't even know it.
A/N: Hello lovely readers!
A deal to find Harper a date for the wedding? At a gardening show with all of their friends? What could possibly go wrong? ;)
Question of the Day: what's your favourite holiday activity? I personally think you can't beat skating with a mug of hot chocolate!
Affectionately,
J.K.