“I won’t say no to that,” Harley says cheerfully and I hear the legs of his chair screech across the tile before silence ensues and I just know he’s piling a cardboard tray full of the sweets from the cabinet. “I’ve gotta get back to the bar to sign for a liquor order.” His head appears in the cut-out wall between the kitchen and the counter. “I’ll see you tonight?”

I turn, trying to remain casual, as if he hasn’t just consumed almost an entire box of overnight constipation relief.

“Do you want me to pick you up on the way?” he asks. “It might be a bit more believable if we actually show up together this time.”

I nod with a forced smile, and Harley leaves with a wave, none the wiser, his tray of éclairs placed gently in his arms like his firstborn son. Somehow, I seriously doubt I’ll be seeing him tonight. Poor Harley.

Chapter 12

I choose a plain black dress for dinner, teamed with a pair of leopard print flats that match my glasses. I pull my hair back into a sleek bun, and I add no more than a sweeping of nude lipstick. I’m surprisingly happy with the finished result when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall as I head down the stairs. Tonight is the night I know I need to look my best. Put-together. Collected. Nothing like a woman who just doused wedding cake samples with laxative in the hope of poisoning the bride-to-be.

I sit at the kitchen island, tapping my fingers against the countertop to an imaginary beat, checking the time on the clock. I’m not sure why I’m even waiting around. Harley isn’t coming. He’s likely stuck on a toilet somewhere. Of course I hope he’s okay. I’m seriously regretting what I’ve done. I poisoned him. And now, as payback, I’ll be forced to sit through dinner alone with Anna and Nash who will probably spend the entire night looking at one another like a couple of love-sick teenagers. I’m sick to the stomach at the thought as I force myself to my feet, grabbing my purse on my way out. I wish I was stuck on a toilet and unable to go to dinner.

Continuing toward the front door, I collect my car keys and my jean jacket from the coat hook in the entryway before opening the door.

“Hey!”

I almost scream, but I manage to collect myself, more than shocked to see Harley standing right there on my front porch. My brows pull together as I look him up and down incredulously. “What are you do—” I stop myself, snapping my mouth shut, not wanting to give anything away.

Harley looks down to the car keys in my hand. “I thought we were going together?”

He doesn’t even look sick. In fact, sick is the farthest thing he looks. Dressed in a pair of jeans that fit him impossibly well, and a gray Henley that shows off his toned upper body, he actually looks handsome. His hair falls forward, the wayward curls flopping down over his forehead, and I just know he’ll spend all night pushing it back and out of his face. His emerald eyes glisten bright beneath the dull light of the porch lamp. His skin seems to be illuminated from the inside as if he’s just had a five-step facial.