LUKE
I’m still breathing hard as I take a step back—if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll pounce on her and never let her go. As I do my jeans back up, I take her in.
Harper lies on top of her bed, her eyes glazed and sexy, and I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to stay right here.
But her dad is down the hall.
The reality of that crashes over me like cold water. As much as I teased her about it, having him find me here isn’t on my bucket list, so I force myself to move. If I’m in action, I won’t be tempted to crawl next to her and burrow myself in her softness.
I can’t exactly walk down the hallway to the bathroom to grab a washcloth—that’s a conversation I’m not equipped to have with Sheriff Garrett. So I do the only logical thing: I pull my T-shirt over my head and use it to clean her up, wiping away the evidence of what we just did.
Harper watches me with half-lidded eyes. “You’re going to have to leave without a shirt.”
“You know it’s going to make you hot, watching me leave shirtless,” I tease, tossing it aside.
Because I can’t bring myself to leave yet, I look around her room. Reconnaissance, don’t you know. I smirk at that.
I’m usually fairly observant, but—let’s be real—walking in to Harper touching herself is always going to draw all my attention every time. Now that my head is somewhat cleared, I notice things.
Like the string of fairy lights draped across her headboard of her ornate brass bed.
Bending down, I find the switch to turn them on. Their soft glow fills her room, making Harper look romantic and golden. I stare at her a long moment before I turn to take in the rest of her room.
The walls are a pale lavender.Lavender. What other surprising facet of Harper Garrett am I going to uncover here?
“What are you doing?” She says it quietly, but I hear the suspicion in her tone.
“Checking things out.” I go to the small desk opposite her bed. There are photographs pinned above her desk—some of her with her coworkers, one with Emma, some other people I don’t recognize.
Her bookshelf is overflowing, books stacked horizontally and vertically, some with worn spines that suggest they’ve been read multiple times. I touch one of the precarious piles, skimming over the titles. A few suspense novels, what looks like a historical, and a couple chick sort of books in candy pink.
And on her nightstand next to a glass of water, her cell phone, and her gun, is a paperback with a shirtless man on the cover.
I can’t help it. I pick it up.
“Don’t.” Harper sits up and reaches, like she’s going to grab it from me.
“Tough-as-nails Deputy Sheriff Harper Garrett reads romance novels.” Grinning, I lean out of range, looking at the book. The cover shows a guy with his shirt off, looking brooding and intense, a black cowboy hat low over his face. There’s awoman pressed against his chest, her expression one of pure surrender.
I raise my brow. “Claiming the Cowboy?”
She holds her hand out. “Luke, I’m serious. Give it back.”
“Sounds like a real page-turner. How far in are you?” I flip it open, checking the bookmark. She’s about three-quarters through. “You’re invested.”
“I’m not done,” she says. There’s something almost defensive in her tone. “I want to know how it ends.”
“Does the hot guy earn the girl?” I ask, studying the cover again. “I bet he doesn’t climb through the window to get to her.”
She snorts. “That’s because the hero in the book isn’t insane.”
“Is it sexy?” I ask her as I hold it out to her.
She clutches the book to her chest like I might try to steal it again. “I don’t read it for the sex. I like the happy endings.”
I chuckle softly. “I’m sure you do, sunshine.”
Narrowing her eyes at me, she murmurs, “You’re trouble.”