Pretend You're Mine: A Small Town Love Story (42 page)

“The difference is I wasn’t busting up a grocery store and some guy’s face at the time and now you’re the one being the idiot. Now stand there, shut up, and we’ll get this worked out.” He said it so amicably that Harper just blinked.

Luke stayed where he was but didn’t take his eyes off of her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and ignored the crowd that had grown to over a dozen people. Tangles of abandoned carts blocked aisles while customers and store staff mingled around sale displays of boxed stuffing and canned pumpkin. Linc leaned against a cooler door and chatted up a pretty stock girl.

Harper did her best to look everywhere but Luke’s face. It felt like an eternity before Ty came back.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Miz Valencio won’t press charges if you agree to the following terms. One, you split the cost of the nine six-packs that died unnecessary deaths and clean up the mess.”

Linc shrugged at Luke. Luke rolled his eyes and nodded.

“And two, you finish Harper’s shopping and pay for her stuff.”

“Give me your list,” Luke said, holding out his hand to her.

“Oh, no. Ty, they don’t have to do that.” She had tampons on the list.

“It’s Miz Valencio’s call. She doesn’t want you to leave empty-handed because these two ‘yahoos got their testosterone in a bunch.’”

“Give me your list.”

She was being lured to her doom but couldn’t see a way out of it. Harper approached slowly. She pulled the list out of her back pocket and held it out between two fingers, eyes on her hand. Luke’s hand closed over hers and pulled her closer.

“Harper.”

He waited until she looked up at him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice. His touch sent a heat spreading through her.

With his free hand, he reached up and gently brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Christ Garrison, keep your hands to yourself,” Ty said stepping between them. He took the list from Harper and handed it over. “Peggy Ann is bringing a broom and a mop. Harper, why don’t you go next door and get yourself a coffee. We’ll be done here in an hour.”

“I
was literally just trying to keep her warm in here, you know,” Linc said conversationally as he held the industrial-sized dustpan.

Luke glared at him as he swept and stayed silent.

“I’m just telling you that it wasn’t like we were making out or having sex. We were just talking and she was cold.”

“Yeah. Right. Just having a conversation in a walk-in refrigerator in December.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Linc continued. “I’d be happy to get to know her better. I mean, look at her.”

Luke tightened his grip on the broom and pretended it was Linc’s neck. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he growled.

Linc emptied the broken glass into the trashcan. “We were only in here because of you anyway. Harper doesn’t even want to see you. Don’t know how she’s still working with you.”

“She’s working nights so she doesn’t have to see me.”

“You let her do that?”

“Harper’s not the kind of woman you ‘let’ do anything.”

“She’s tough,” Linc chuckled. “And I was just reminding her of that when you stuck your head in the cooler and threw a hissy fit.”

“I didn’t throw a hissy fit.”

“I clearly remember you stomping your foot.”

“If I did it was because I was trying to break yours.” Luke went back to sweeping.

“It just seems to me that’s an overreaction from the man who let her go. What’s with you and always trying to set your women free? What do you expect them to do? Be alone forever?”

“For the love of God, can we please just finish this in silence. Ty’ll be pissed if I smash your face in with this broom.”

***

H
arper took the hour and, following Ty’s advice, grabbed a latte at the café next door.

She clutched the mug in her hands and tried to think of the bright side. She hadn’t burst into tears, which was a plus. She hadn’t begged him to touch her one more time, huge plus. Unfortunately she had gone to the store sans makeup with her hair in a crappy knot. If she had her choice, Luke wouldn’t have spotted her looking so sad-sack-y. She would have been dressed to kill and he would have spotted her from a safe distance, not up close and personal in a beer cooler. She couldn’t even begin to understand Luke’s reaction to seeing her with Linc.

Harper snuck into the tiny bathroom with chalkboard walls to slick on lip gloss and take her hair down from its messy knot. She fashioned it into a braid that hung over one shoulder.

On her way back to the store, she thought about just getting in her car and driving away. She’d make an excuse to Joni about the groceries and lay down in the fetal position for like ten hours.

But she was too proud. Don’t let him see you break, she reminded herself.

Harper found them arguing about how to bag her groceries at the self-scan checkout. She cringed when she saw Luke hand Linc a box of tampons.

She should have just gone for the fetal position.

***

L
uke spotted her first in the midst of his argument with Linc on how to bag chicken breasts.

“Hey, sunshine. We got you reusable bags,” Linc announced, grinning at Harper. Luke wanted to punch him again. He settled for elbowing him in the gut instead and then shoved his hands on his pockets. It was the only way he could be sure he wouldn’t reach out and grab her ... or break Linc’s nose.

Looking at her was still a punch in the gut. Those damn eyes — stormy now — were shadowed with dark circles. The light was missing from them. She was thinner, too, noticeable even with her wearing a fleece. He could see the hollows in her cheeks.

Tired. Empty. And all he wanted to do was fill her. But he had made his choice. His bed was empty, his house quiet. And that was the way it needed to be.

When he opened that cooler door to escape Georgia Rae’s small talk ... just seeing Harper in Reed’s arms, smiling up at him ... His gut still churned.

The reaction, that blind, burning fury, took him by surprise. He lost control as quickly as if a leash had snapped inside. Luke didn’t like that that was coiled within him, ready to strike.

And strike he had. Not just with his fists. He had cut Harper to the quick with his accusation. He saw the sting of his words register on her face just before Linc came at him. He was nothing without his control. But she had taken him past his limits before.

It wasn’t her fault. The blame fell on his shoulders.

He owed her an apology. Ty one, too. And while he was at it, he could throw one in for Linc, but probably not. Even if the man did have a point. He let Harper go. What did he expect?

Didn’t she deserve to be happy, to be loved, to have someone remind her to wear a damn coat when it snowed?

“Where’s your coat?” He regretted the harshness in his tone, but not being able to control himself was par for the course with Harper.

She shrugged. “Your house.”

Along with everything else she owned. Waiting.

“I’ll drop it off. I can bring the rest of your stuff.”

Harper was already shaking her head. “Joni doesn’t need —”

The song “Bad Boys” shrilled from her phone. Luke saw the flash of pure panic and watched as her fingers fumbled on the screen in her haste to answer.

“Hi. Hey,” she said, spinning away, clutching her phone to her ear.

“No, I didn’t get it. I moved.” Her eyes darted to Luke and away again. She lowered her voice. “I know. I’m sorry. It was kind of sudden.”

She listened in silence for a moment and he swore every ounce of color drained from her face.

“He’s getting out? When?” She sank down on a narrow bench next to the window.

She bit her lip and looked his way again, her gaze darting away when she saw him watching. Linc shoved a bag of lettuce at him. “Keep up, bro.”

“Give me a minute ... and don’t call me bro.”

“Fine. Keep up, dick.”

Luke stepped closer to Harper, but couldn’t catch much. She was arguing quietly now. “You don’t need to come here to play bodyguard — I can protect myself ...”

After another minute of whispering, she hung up and without a word hurried out of the store.

“Where’s she going?” Linc demanded, coming up next to Luke. “She forgot her stuff.”

***

O
f course she wasn’t answering his texts. Frustrated, Luke tossed his cellphone on the passenger seat. His debt to Val’s Groceries paid, he volunteered to haul Harper’s groceries with him so he could personally deliver them.

He’d swing by the house first to get her damn coat.

He couldn’t get her reaction to the mystery phone call out of his head. Harper wasn’t one to be afraid of anything. Luke worried what would have caused a reaction like that.

Leaving the groceries in his truck, he went inside and dug through the boxes until he found a belted black wool coat. He held it to his face and breathed in her scent.

Feeling pathetic, he folded the coat and put it on the dining room table. He would pack a few sweaters for her, too, so she didn’t freeze her ass off. She should have some kind of ski jacket, too, he thought. Maryland winters weren’t exactly balmy. Maybe he could find a decent one at the outlet —

Christ, what had this woman done to him? They weren’t even together anymore and here he was planning a fucking shopping trip. He was losing his damn mind. Any progress he’d made toward shutting thoughts of her out was lost after today. One look at her and he was back to the beginning.

He threw two sweaters on top of the coat on the table. Enough was enough. After he found out what was going on with her, he’d take her stuff to the office to store until she left.

He remembered the growing stack of mail that he’d ignored in the kitchen all week. He’d check it for anything for her and then head over to Joni’s. One last time to see her, make sure she was okay, and then leave her alone forever.

Luke flipped through the pile, tossing junk mail in the recycling can as he went. There were two envelopes addressed to Harper.

A red stamp on the first caught his eye. Victim Services. He felt his heart start to pound. The second envelope was hand addressed to Harper and had a small ink stamp in the corner.

Mailed from a state correctional institution.

There was something familiar about that second envelope, something that he couldn’t quite pull to the surface. There was no name in the return address. Luke pulled out his phone and looked up the address online. Sussex Correctional Institution.

He dialed Harper. When her voicemail answered he swore and hung up.

Drumming his fingers on the counter, he weighed his options. There was no way she was going to tell him what was going on. But if she was in danger, he needed to know.

“Fuck it.” Luke shredded the envelope and yanked out the piece of notebook paper inside. A cold fury washed over him and made his hands shake. There was no name. Just “Daddy.”

He slammed the letter onto the counter and started to pace. This couldn’t be the first letter. There must be others ...

Her boxes. Back in the dining room, Luke tore the lid off of the innocuous “Paperwork” box. In the very front was a folder labeled SCI Letters. Dozens of letters opened, filed chronologically starting when Harper was 18. Luke resisted the urge to heave the entire box through the window.

That fucker. Every letter was signed “Daddy.” He had caught up with her every move since she had aged out of the foster system. Blaming her for his sentence. It had to be the cigarette burns. This man had physically hurt Harper until he was caught and then spent years trying to torture her psychologically.

There were five other letters in the box sent to his address. Three while he was deployed. But the other most recent one was just days before Thanksgiving. She had never said a word.

Except ... she had tried.

“Luke, can I talk to you about something? It’s kind of important.”

He had been sitting on the couch, pissed off at himself, pretending it was her, and had shrugged at her. Just shrugged because he was angry and scared.

She had faltered, but tried to press on. “
Something happened and I’m a little worried
—”

He had cut her off and cold-bloodedly proceeded to cut her out of his life. In the exact moment when she was reaching out to him for help, he pushed her away.

She had trusted him and he had betrayed that trust on so many levels. And now she was alone.

He swiped a hand over face and cursed himself. What had he done?

He needed a name and thought of the Victim Services letter. Well, he had already opened one of her letters. Why stop now?

It was a form letter stating that as a victim of Clive Perry, Harper was entitled to be aware that he was due to be released from prison on December 18 after having served his full prison sentence.

Luke pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

“Hey, we have a situation.”

“Y
ou know when I saw it was you I was expecting you were calling to apologize,” Ty drawled, kicking back in his desk chair. “Then when you said you had a situation, I thought you were calling to tell me that you were driving around with Linc’s body in the back of your truck.”

Luke shifted in Ty’s visitors’ chair. The station smelled like stale coffee and old books. “I do owe you an apology and I haven’t killed anyone. Yet.” He dropped Harper’s folder on Ty’s desk. “Harper’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Luke filled him in on the details he knew. Ty gave a low whistle when he’d finished. “Sounds like our girl’s in a bad spot.”

“How can we keep this asshole from getting out?”

“I’m gonna look into it. But Luke, in the eyes of the law, this Perry guy has served his time.” He skimmed the letter on top of the file. “How about you give me some time to run Harper and this guy through the system? I want to read these letters, too. Why don’t you go get us a couple of coffees and meet me back here in half an hour?”

“Just so you know, this guy never gets near her. No matter what.”