Take Me Home Tonight

James stood back and looked at the shelves currently attached what had been a wall in his bedroom. Later today, some presumably skilled guys would hang doors around them like a false wall. It would be white - the only white in his once all-white room.

He and Harper had painted the walls a pale, pale gray and the ceiling a sky blue. “Columbia blue,” she called it, so light it was more the idea of color than blue itself. Yet it lifted his eyes every time he walked in the door. The carpet had been replaced with something plush and neutral, then overlaid with a bold striped rug in blue and slate. The furniture, still covered with drop cloths, was low and hand-painted at Harper’s insistence. James felt the room had doubled in size.

Harper finished screwing blue glass knobs into place on the doors that would become James’ second closet. For a room with so little color, it was remarkably lively. That was the difference between decorated and not - her room was light on purpose. It was orchestrated. And it helped that James had gone for her idea on the bed.

It had a teak platform, rising just to her knees and a bit lower on James. Atop that, a brand new memory foam mattress that she’d laid on long enough in the store to leave her body shape for hours. Sleeping on that after three hours of getting pummeled by the league’s top defensemen - well, James would have to test it for a few nights to truly appreciated what she’d done. The closet would be done by tonight. When James got back from his game, this room would almost be his own again.

“I’m going to miss napping in the guest room,” he confessed, watching the light from the windows glance off the colored accents she’d chosen.

“Which one?”

James smiled. “Both.”
____

Later that night, Harper zipped her parka up to her neck, pulled a hat over her hair and ran from her front door to Paige’s waiting car. They made their way downtown, ditching the busy Friday surface streets before reaching the main Consol lots, opting instead of the family lot with their magic parking ticket.

“They could heat this place, you know,” Paige gave the open-air garage a dirty look. “Can’t have WAGs freezing their boob jobs off.”

“No beer for you,” Harper said.

The arena was packed. Everyone was gearing up for holiday break from jobs and school. Fake snowflakes inside the rink replaced the real ones falling outside. Harper dug the tickets James had given her out of the deepest pocket: they were great seats. Better than the ones she knew he’d given Rachel. And on a Friday night, the week before Christmas. Paige followed Harper down to row K and nodded, impressed.

“Guess this is your Christmas present, then?”

Harper dropped into the aisle seat. “Well he hasn’t finished paying me yet.”
_____

It was another intense game. Another sea of people, many of them wearing James’ name and number. Harper had her Neal shirt on too, while Paige rocked a Borts shirt that she refused to explain under direct questioning. Harper was more used to it by now - the pressure of twenty thousand people all trying to move the puck, and so the players, with their minds. James never looked up once. He knew she was there.

James could not afford a mistake. Coach was breathing down his neck since the Boston game, and he hated letting his teammates down. He focused intensely, only wondering during intermissions if Harper was wearing his shirt. He should have offered her a jersey. The idea of Harper cuddled up in a regulation #18 gave James all kinds of fireplace-holiday ideas.

But none of those would be coming true. All the times she’d made fun of his painting skills or known exactly what he wanted for lunch without asking - that was all he and Harper would ever be. She was there when he got home from practice, there when he laid down for a nap. Even in dreams, Harper never left. Now she was here, in this massive crowd, and James could feel her presence as if she were standing right next to him.

Tomorrow was her ex’s wedding. James imagined Harper must feel a mix of dread and finality: one what-if, gone for good. As her date, James was another what-if. What if people at the wedding hated him for the hit on Marchand? His previous infractions? The early playoff exits? What if bringing him, especially now, was a huge mistake? It made James very nervous. But Harper knew all that - she was taking the risk here, bringing him anyway. This was not the time for him to be letting her down. James kept his head in the game, his skates on the ice and didn’t say a word until he saw his shot go in the net.

At the end, the Penguins had a 4-2 victory. James did the necessaries, showered and went to the lounge. But he was too slow.

“Anything but orange,” Crosby was saying. His tie was loose and he even had a cookie in one hand, the fucking poser. He didn’t snack. At his side, Harper made a face like she’d rather die than paint something orange. Her cute friend Paige was laughing out loud. It reminded James that after he was done, another blank slate awaited Harper’s attention: and he didn’t mean Sid’s house.

Then Harper saw him. Her hazel eyes lit up in a way that made James forget he was on best behavior. She dodged Crosby’s elbow, jumped into James’ arms and squeezed him as tightly as she could.

“Nice game!” Harper wasn’t sure where all that enthusiasm had come from. Probably the same place James bought the black, slim-cut suit he was wearing.

“Thanks.” James fought the urge to lift her off the floor. She was wearing her Pens t-shirt oer long-sleeves; his number had never looked so good on anyone.

It took effort for Harper to unwind herself from James’ embrace. Something about the game made her giddy. After so long under the arena lights, she was seeing stars. James hugged Paige hello, then got called over by Paul to meet someone. When Harper turned, Paige had disappeared to the cookie table and left her alone with Sid.

“I see you two made up,” he observed, crossing his huge arms over his massive chest like he knew what that did to women.

“Did you?” Harper asked.

Sid shrugged. “More or less. As long as he follows the rules.”

Harper had been thinking about everything - the end of James’ house project, her move on to Sid’s. The obvious tension between the guys and between each of them and herself was not to be ignored. As flattering as she found Sid’s attention, Harper didn’t want to want him for that. She wasn’t Rachel. And Sid had plenty more to offer - to someone else.

“Maybe we need some rules, Sid,” she said.

Crosby gave her a look that would have gotten him elected President, except for that pesky Canadian detail. He grinned widely, completely genuine, and lifted his brow like he had no idea on Earth what she was getting at. She nearly forgot her own point under the bright glare of his smile. Yet his expression hid nothing from her: Sid loved a challenge, and Harper was about to give him one.

“I’m excited about your house. But this.... anything else, between us, it’s not a good idea.”

“I haven’t told you my ideas yet,” he said. Harper couldn’t help the corner of her mouth twitching up. Sid gave her that dark-eyed stare she’d have to get very used to resisting. “Are you having ideas?

“Sid.”

“About me?”

“Sid!” Harper whacked him on the arm.

Crosby just smirked. “They must be good ones - you’re blushing.”

“What I’m saying,” she clung to her composure, “is that it’s not a good idea to put your heart where your house is.”

From their close proximity, Harper watched Sid’s eyes settle on James across the room. The Penguins captain seemed to think for a moment before turning his gaze back to Harper. “I only bring home things I intend to take care of.”

She had no defense - it made no sense to choose James over Sid, or to choose James at all. Harper wasn’t sure she actually had. But James had trusted her first and she owed him the chance to try to earn it back.

Sid’s voice was quiet, she felt it as much as she heard it. “If he doesn’t, I’ll know.”
____

Her hands shook. It had been going on for about five minutes, and Harper couldn’t stop looking at them. At least she’d gotten her dress zipped first, because asking James to help with that was not on tonight’s agenda.

“Stop,” she said out loud to her reflection. This night was going to be rough enough without thinking that way about James.

If ever Harper pictured Nate’s wedding, she would not have been the bride. That, and the fact James was on his way like some knight in shining armor, were the only things propelling her on. At least when she wasn’t thinking about what everyone else would be thinking of James.

She had almost said no. No thanks, James, I will be fine going alone to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding because it’s safer than bringing you. Yet for all his flaws, James had offered. He was willing to stand before a jury of his peers, more or less, and be judged while acting as Harper’s date. She’d stuck up for him, now he was offering to do the same for her. It was, frankly, much more than she’s expected from James.

The doorbell rang. Her heels made no noise on carpeted stairs, so James had no warning before the door flew open.

“Hi,” she said.

He stepped back. Another inch and he’d have toppled down the three steps to her driveway and probably just lay there, continuing to appreciate the view. Harper had agreed when James insisted they go all out and look their absolute best. “The best defense is a good offense,” he’d joked. It seemed perhaps he should have arranged a backup defense too. His tongue failed.

“Wow,” Harper said. Jesustakethewheel.

James wore a dark gray suit, white shirt, light purple tie. Simple enough, and classic, but it was clearly expensive and perfectly tailored. It probably cost more than her car. It looked like it cost more than her house. Between the size of his body and the fit of his suit, he hardly needed that heartbreaking face. Farther up, his hair was perfectly mussed bedhead. Just in case any woman within ten miles was not already thinking about rolling him in the hay.

“You look....” James unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Harper wanted their outfits to match a little but not too much. Always decorating. She said purple, he went light purple. Now her dress was the perfect compliment; five shades darker, like the juice inside a berry. It was simple silk with a v-neck and draped cut, cinched by a wide obi-style belt in matching purple leather wrapped twice around her waist. The dress hit mid-thigh, giving the illusion that if Harper spun around dancing, you might get a flash of something higher. And you’d spend all night waiting for it. The silk and leather contrast, the fact it wasn’t skin-tight... it was everything that James’ dates never resisted, and the only thing in the world he could see. Her dark blond hair tumbled in waves over down her back, the right makeup made her eyes pop and lips shine.

In her cage heels, she was closer to his height. Her toes were painted the palest lavender, almost white, accentuating what was left of her summer suntan. James looked down, then back up, then shook his head. “Stunning,” he finished his thought. “You look like revenge.”

Harper laughed, grateful to break the tension, and swatted James’ arm with her sparkly clutch. She grabbed her coat and closed the door, both of them grateful not to go back inside the house. Not together, not right now.

James has driven his black two door Benz. His peacock feathers told him to bring the Lamborghini, but he knew Harper would hate it. She was already nervous as hell about tonight, revealed by the way she slipped the silky hem of her dress between two fingers as he drove, without any idea she was giving him an extra inch of leg on display. James didn’t point it out because then he’d have to admit he was nervous too. Being James Neal on the ice, with the pressure and expectation that followed, almost never bothered him. He wanted to rise to the game. Being James Neal off the ice was a lot harder. People watched, they kept score in a way that he didn’t always understand. Tonight he was walking in front of that firing squad on purpose.

We really are friends, James realized, almost with surprise. Sure, Harper was hot as hell and looked even better tonight, but there was absolutely no expectation of James being paid for his services rendered. In fact, he knew this date was already owed for past mistakes. It felt good to be returning the favor for once. This was a big step.

Harper watched the landmarks zip past as they approached the church. It wasn’t just Nate she would see, but a hundred shared friends he’d gotten in the ‘divorce.’ Most she hadn’t seen since moving on to this new part of her life.

Two years, she thought. Back then, the world had seemed scary. Now Harper had her own business, stood on her own two feet. Nate was also successful and she was happy for him. Today would be good if she could handle it with grace. Showing everyone that she was fine would convince herself of that fact, one last time. She glanced at James and smiled. Harper wasn’t the only one with something to prove tonight.

People were filing into the church. Winter had set in for real, moving the greeters and ushers inside the main doors. James parked, but by the time he got around to Harper’s door she was already halfway out.

“You’re supposed to let me help you,” he said.

“You’re supposed to be a fast skater,” she sassed back.

James offered his arm and she took it. Before they reached the door, he quietly said, “You’re going to be great.”

Harper squeezed his elbow. She nearly said, ‘You too,’ but stuck with just, “Thanks.”

Six people, Harper counted. She greeted six people, all of whom looked surprised to see her, before anyone recognized James. The surprise doubled.

“This is my... James,” she said.

“Yeah, James Neal. Hey, “ the best man said. His name was Brad and he shook James’ hand, then remembered his manners and kissed Harper’s cheek. He asked how she was and Harper said great. Another groomsman approached, Nate’s friend from high school. Harper had known him too. He offered a brief greeting for her then beeline for James - at least these guys were already over his suspension.

Harper felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned into an embrace from Nate’s mom. She had genuinely liked Elizabeth, and Nate’s mom had reached out after the breakup to make sure Harper was alright. Harper didn’t know if Nate’s mom liked the new girl - perhaps she was wished it were Harper wearing white today.

“Thank you for coming,” Elizabeth said warmly. “I was grateful when Nate said you’d RSVPd. I wanted to know how you are.”

“I’ve been,...,” Harper started.

“Hi, I’m James,” James announced. Harper was still attached to his arm but her attention completely elsewhere. James could make small talk with groomsmen all day long - provided they were Pens fans - but that was not his job today.

“Oh, yeah, this is James, er - my date. James,” Harper stuttered.

“Well, hello.” Elizabeth was obviously impressed. “Nate did say you were bringing a plus-one.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” James added. At the last word, Harper pinched his forearm.

A woman bustled up behind them, did a nicely dramatic double-take at the sight of Harper and James, and begged for a moment’s help from the mother of the groom. Elizabeth excused herself with a pat on Harper’s shoulder and a promise to speak later.

“Ma’am?” Harper whispered when Elizabeth was gone.

“Women love that,” James assured her.

Harper laughed. The first real test had gone well, and after seeing Nate’s mom she felt better about this whole event. People really did want her here, the invitation had not been some cruel joke. She was explaining to James the difference between ‘miss’ and ‘ma’am’ when he stopped listening and looked over her shoulder.

“Hey, Harper.”

For a moment she was frozen, stunned by the sound of Nate’s voice. It wasn’t so powerful as it was familiar, like a song she’d known her whole life and just one note brought back all the words. She looked at James, who was now watching her carefully, and gave him a tiny nod.

“Nate.” She turned, praying for the luck. He looked the same as always, a bit older maybe and his hair was carefully styled for the occasion. With his brown eyes and high forehead, Harper had always thought he resembled Keanu Reeves a little bit. Now two years had added a hint of sharpness to his face. They weren’t kids anymore. But when he smiled, it was still the way she remembered. “Congratulations.”

He leaned in and so she followed suit, but as she did something changed. James let go of her arm, sliding his hand down into hers. Their fingers laced together just as Nate gave Harper a peck on the cheek.

“This is....”

James jumped right in. He didn’t want Harper to have to say ‘date’ or ‘friend’ or whatever she felt was the right reaction to seeing the guy that dumped her in his wedding tuxedo. “James,” he said. “Congratulations on the big day, man.”

Someday, James thought, this will be me at Meghan and John’s wedding. Saying I am fine and hoping to God that it’s true.

“Uh, thanks.” Nate looked shell-shocked. James felt a little twinge of sorry for him. The guy had just been presented with the girl he let go, looking like a damned supermodel and standing next to someone whose multimillion salary could be verified on NHL.com. In the foyer of the church at his own wedding. Holding hands.

“You, ah, you look fantastic, Harper. It’s great to see you. Thanks -,” Nate paused for a breath, “thanks for coming.”

As Nate was talking, Harper could practically hear him thinking. He’d always been a terrible liar. It was the main reason she more or less believed his story about not cheating. Yet the longer she felt hurt, the more her memory soured. Looking at him now, the shock of seeing him again faded and he was just Nate - he would always be Nate. And she’s always be able to read him.

“Thanks for inviting me.” For all the times she’d claimed to be, Harper did feel truly happy for Nate. Being here was saying everything was forgiven. “It’s good to see you too.”

Before it could get too awkward, more guests arrived demanding Nate’s attention. Harper and James wished him luck. When he walked away, the were still standing there. Holding hands.

“Remember at Home Depot, when the paint guy was hitting on you?” James asked.

“And you were going to hug me to scare him off?” She looked down at their hands and then back into James’ eyes.

He squeezed his fingers around hers. “This works too.”

When they sat, James finally let go of her hand. He did not hear a word of the ceremony, just stood when people stood and sat when they sat. The bride was pretty, but she was a flicker next to Harper’s spotlight. James resolved not to have more than two drinks lest he tell the groom just how sorry he was about that. A smile tugged at the corner of Harper’s lip when Nate flubbed a line in his vows. They both said ‘I do,’ the priest pronounced them man and wife. James stood behind Harper and put a hand on her shoulder as Nate and his bride walked down the aisle.

By the time they filed into the receiving line, word was out that the Penguins’ own James Neal was here. Harper caught people looking at him because they were looking at her too. Some she knew, and she could imagine the thoughts and conversations of the ones she didn’t. James acted like he didn’t notice a thing, waiting for Harper to introduce him to the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Finally they reached the bride.

“Sara, congratulations,” Harper said. Her smile was so warm that James couldn’t help smiling too.

“Harper, hi.” For her part, the bride didn’t look so into this idea. She gave Harper’s outfit the once over, smiled rather tightly and hugged her for a second. Then she looked at James and repeated the scene with a handshake instead of a hug.

Harper had not been expecting more, but she almost laughed when she made eye contact with Nate. He shrugged as if to say, What am I going to do, right? Harper made sure to give him a big, full hug before she strutted away. James was right behind her.

“You okay?”

Aware that plenty of people were probably still watching, Harper turned a corner instead of heading straight. Her heart was beating a little fast. “I am, yeah. Just - you know. Weird. That was weird.”

James felt absurdly proud of Harper. He thought of how Meghan’s eventual wedding would be, doubtless standing next to John, and the role James would play. He would need more grace and strength than ever to act the way Harper had with Nate. Her cheeks were a little flushed, but it only made her prettier and more alive. “You did great.”

She stopped moving and faced him. God, he was handsome. How could that face be the same guy who’d done what he’d done at Thanksgiving, or in Boston, or with Rachel? And still be here now, like this?

“You too. I know that wasn’t easy, James. Thank you for being here.”

He grinned like a kid who’d gotten a gold star. Harper had to laugh.

“There’d better be an open bar,” she said.
____

Quite a few people had beaten them to the reception venue for the same reason. They paused inside the door to find their seating card - Harper Cates & Guest, it said - then circled the dance floor looking for table nine. Harper put her purse on a seat and turned to find James shrugging out of his suit coat. His hair fell into his eyes as he moved; she was struck with the urge to brush it away. Instead James did it, with a hand to his forehead like he was smacking a bug.

They had a drink. Harper knew almost all the people they were sitting with - most of whom looked thrilled to have the best table for post-event gossip. Getting to chat with a Penguin over rubber chicken and vodka sodas was a big night in Pittsburgh. Appetizers went around and people mingled, but Harper and James stayed put.

“When’s the last time you saw these people?”

“Two years,” Harper said after a sip of her cocktail. “Breaking up proves who your real friends are.”

“Like getting traded,” James suggested.

He was leaning back in his seat, casually turned toward her. His arms and legs were so long he could be a far from the table and still reach his drink. As it was, Harper thought he was trying to shield her from everyone else in the room.

“I guess. Someone wanted you and now they want someone else instead.”

James caught her eye but James smile. He wasn’t feeling funny at the moment, not about that. Harper had been hurt once, badly - much worse than he’d been hurt with Meghan. Yet here she was being strong and fine when he’d spent so much time wallowing.

Harper didn’t want to be a downer, so she thumped James’ shoulder. “Then you score 40 goals and get thirty million bucks. That’ll show ‘em!”

He lifted his drinks to hers. “Your dress is doing just fine.”

When the table filled, everyone acted like they meant to call Harper for the last two years. They’d missed her. They wanted to reconnect. James played along - they were nice people, but it was an awkward situation at best. He tried to imagine Harper here with someone else, someone who’d remained friends with these people. Maybe it would have been easier. But she certainly would not have been comfortable here alone.

The DJ was typical awful wedding grade, but when he started trying to fill the dance floor, James held out his hand.

“Well, if you insist,” Harper said. James swung her into his arms, dancing with joking formality like they were an old couple or in Back to the Future. Either way, she didn’t mind his hand at the small of her back or the fact that no other girl could ask James Neal to dance. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. People watched him, watched her, watched them. Harper decided she didn’t give a shit, not so long as James was right there. They didn’t return to their seats until the toasts began.

Harper had been friends with everyone in the groom’s party. Nate parent’s beamed from their seats of honor, thrilled with the new addition to their family. Except for the fact she didn’t know of the bridesmaids, it could have been Harper in that bride’s seat. Nate’s brother and best man, Dave, gave a toast about the first time he met Sara, how he instantly knew that she and Nate would be together forever. Harper wondered if that meeting happened while she was still with Nate.

“Cupcake,” James’ voice was soft in her ear.

“What?” She leaned back in surprise. He shifted a little closer.

“She looks like a cupcake in that dress.”

“James,” Harper scolded quietly, doing her best not to grin.

The maid of honor went next, and Harper knew if she ever married that Paige would bring the house down. Overall her wedding would be way more fun. Finally the talking stopped and the eating continued. After that, the music resumed.

James watched the bride and groom surrounded by friends and family. They were working the room, visiting with each person who’d come to be part of their special day. Before long, they’d reach table nine - which was empty except for himself and Harper. Her straw rattled the ice in her empty glass.

“Do you want to....”

“Yes,” she grabbed her purse. “Please.”

James took her other hand in his, the way he had before. They wandered toward the bar, then right past the coat room and out the front door. Harper went as fast as those stilettos would take her. James let go and jogged to get ahead of her to open the Benz’ passenger door. She slowed as she reached him.

“Are you okay to drive?”

James smiled. He still had a few inches on Harper in her heels, and right now he felt ten feet tall. “After this, do you think I’d let something bad happen to you?’

He drove to a steakhouse that he knew would have tables in the back for a member of the Penguins on a Saturday night. They’d eaten a little, but mostly he didn’t want to take Harper home yet. They were seated in a booth, as private as public could be, and James ordered a bottle of wine.

“Finally,” Harper fawned over the menu, ordered three things James wasn’t supposed to eat and ran both hands through her hair. Being around Nate and the big ‘what if’ had been harder than she liked to admit.

James had been thinking about ‘what ifs’ too: his own, both past and present. He still had no idea what was going on between Harper and Sid - for all he knew, Crosby was the other backup wedding date. That would have caused a stir. Maybe James had just asked first. But James did know a thing or two Crosby didn’t, all related to getting his heart broken. And since Harper still wanted to know him after the way he’d acted, James figured she deserved something in return.

“I got dumped once too,” he said with no preamble. “This summer, by my best friend.”

“What?” Harper was suddenly wide awake again.

“Well, hold on. For starters, it’s a girl,” James explained. “Meghan.”

“Ah,” Harper nodded calmly. Then she burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. I just had this - no, nevermind.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said. The waitress put a plate of mozzarella sticks on the table Harper attacked them. “She was my neighbor when we were little, kind of like my sister my whole life. Then this summer, I fell for her and she fell for someone else. At pretty much the exact same moment.”

“Oh no.” Harper watched that deep, bruised feeling she’d sensed in James bubble to the surface. It didn’t mar his handsome face though; if anything the gravity made him sexier.

James nodded. “Someone a lot better than I am. I saw her last week, on our road trip. They’re so happy together, I hate that I ever wanted them to fail.”

Harper knew she shouldn’t touch him now. So she refilled James’ wine glass, like she would have done for Paige or Liam.

“But tonight, watching Nate see you with another guy - that’s me at her wedding someday. I mean, Nate doesn’t know we’re not...,” James paused and made a ‘you know’ gesture with his hand.

“He thinks we are. Everyone does. A couple of girls even asked me about it in the bathroom.”

“Oh God.”

“Don’t worry, I told them we have an open relationship and gave them Borts’ number.”

There was a pause, a sip of wine, when James and Harper both wondered what to do next. Everyone had baggage - Harper’s heartbreak was older, it had surprised James. But she’d gotten over it in that time too. Since they first met, Harper had felt a sadness around James. Now at least she knew it’s name.

They’d just crossed into real friendship, the kind where people stepped up when things got tough. Harper knew it wasn’t time to jump into something more - like James’ lap, or his bed. Since that first day, he’d needed a friend more than anything. Harper hoped she was doing a pretty good job.

“Did you love her?” Harper asked. James had asked if she had loved Nated - the answer was no, sad but true.

James didn’t really know what love felt like, but maybe he’d never really understood friendship either. Not until meeting Harper. By the light of the past few months, he could hardly read what his relationship with Meghan had really been.

“I wanted to. I don’t know if that’s enough.”

James wished he had happier truths to tell, but already he felt a bit lighter for having brought up Meghan. If he was very careful, and very considerate, perhaps Meghan and John’s inevitable wedding would be just like tonight: with Harper on his arm. Her eyes were dark in the dim restaurant lighting and he knew she had really forgiven him.

He turned the topic to something more fun. Harper was grateful and another glass of wine went down easily. It had been a while since James had been out drinking, for fear of it ending with some strange girl in his kitchen making breakfast. He’d also played his first game in nine days the night before. Between the alcohol, fatigue and Harper’s calm, steady presence, James was in no shape to drive home when the bottle was empty.

Harper ate the last mozzarella stick and held out her hand. James took it. She smiled. “Keys, Neal.”

The Benz whipped through the dark city. Harper had driven to James’ house as often as her own over the last few months, so she glanced at his profile instead of checking street signs. He started to drift off watching the scraggly snow on the ground blur past. The heady feeling made everything seem far away. When they got home, Harper gently shook his shoulder.

“Wake up. You’re home.”

James climbed unsteadily out of the car. Harper appeared at his elbow, arm linked firmly through his. The sudden standing up and the lights made James feel more drunk; he opened the front door wide to let her in.

“I should go.”

“You can stay.” His words were fuzzy. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she said.

“It’s cold.” James tugged her halfway inside. Harper’s heeled shoes made it easier for him to look into her eyes.

“I know.”

He finally got her in far enough to close the door. James held her upper arms, icy air dissipating between them. Drunk as he felt, he saw Harper very clearly. She wouldn’t stay. This wasn’t the way to get what he wanted. But letting her leave felt like giving up.

“I have nice guest rooms.”

Her laugh rang out. “I know, James.”

“You can sta -” The last word was lost as his mouth found hers. Harper was so close and so caring and he just couldn’t help it. The kiss wished itself into existence.

Harper went still in surprise. James’ lips were as soft as she’d ever imagined. His kiss was soft too - not aggressive or demanding, more like a sleepy, satisfied sigh. If she’d broken away he would have smiled, eyes still closed, and planted the next kiss on her forehead. But Harper didn’t break away.

She couldn’t stop her lips from opening. James’s hands slid along her body, coming to rest against the middle of her rib cage - too high to be chaste, too low to be scandalous. He didn’t need to hold her tightly. Instead he wove his tongue against hers, like velvet, and Harper felt that gentle burr all the way down to her toes. It brought her own hands up to his neck, pushing into the back of his hair. For a long minute they held there, not stopping and not advancing. Finally, Harper took her lips gently from James’ kiss.

“Stay,” he said, half-asleep now.

“Come on.”

Harper kept her coat on as she walked James upstairs and deposited him in the only undecorated room of the house: his own. She pulled off his shoes and tie, set them carefully near the bed, and turned off the light. Then she drove herself home in his car.
____

Notes