Before my brain had the chance to process that her body was suddenly pressed against mine, Harper covered my lips with hers. My breath caught and I wasn’t sure if it was from the sheer shock of being attacked by someone’s lips, or if it was the explosion of Harper’s vanilla, blossoms and peppermint taste across my tongue that overpowered my ability to move. That she felt and tasted so incredible, it literally took my fucking breath away.

The hardness of her kiss softened, and I felt her tension ease when I kissed her back. There was a faint touch of her fingers against my shirt that she flinched back, almost as if she hadn’t meant to do it, and caught herself.

“Hartman, get your ass over here, man.”

We broke free with our gazes locked and our breaths thick. She ignored the guy across the bar who hollered for me and tore her gaze from my eyes and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I was never much into PDA. Meet me for a private reunion in the girl’s bathroom.”

Wait. What?

“Harper.”

“Don’t disappoint me twice, Troy. And I promise, I won’t disappoint you.” She glanced down at my bulge and winked before dashing off to the back of the bar.

The fuck? She wasn’t serious.

What happened to you, Harper?

Disappointment settled in my chest and I shook my head. “You’re going to be waiting a while, sweetheart,” I muttered to myself.

But since I couldn’t believe it unless I saw it, I watched her and nearly laughed when she went into the men’s bathroom instead.

I kept watching. Waiting for her to dash out of there flushed—no pun intended—and race across the hall to the women’s.

And waited.

Damnit.

2. Harper

2

Nicole : You’re crazy. I don’t believe for one second that you’re going through with this.

I re-read the message I’d ignored from my new—and only—friend in town, Nicole earlier. Not because I’d forgotten to respond. But because maybe if I’d read it again, I could realize how stupid this was and change my mind about coming.

What was I thinking?

And to make matters worse, I’d walked into the wrong freaking bathroom.

This is never going to work.

Troy looked about as ready to follow me in here as he would be to face his coach after today’s miserable game.

I should leave.

With doubt now on the surface, I closed my eyes and willed back the pain and humiliation from that horrendous night five years ago. Looking in the mirror, I adjusted my bra, stood taller, fixed my hair, puckered my lips, then shot a text back. “Damn right I am.”

My phone buzzed a few seconds later and I held it up to my ear.