Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
My heart aches for him, but I know that kind of blindness all too well. “What was the breaking point?”
He exhales, shaking his head. “After a bad game, I got benched for a couple of weeks. I was in a rough spot, and instead of sticking around, she started hanging out with some guy on the rival team. I walked in on them making out at a party.”
“Damn.” I set my glass aside, shifting closer to him. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“No.” His jaw tightens. “But it taught me a lesson. People who are only around when things are good? They’re not worth it.”
I bite my lip, the heaviness between us settling like a shared wound. “How long were you together?”
“A year,” he says, shaking his head again. “Too long, considering how it ended.”
I nod, thinking about Parker and how long I put up with his excuses. “I get it. I let my ex hang around too long, hoping he’d change.”
Harris looks at me, a softness in his eyes. “Sometimes we want to believe in people more than they deserve.”
I swallow, that simple truth hitting me square in the chest. “Yeah.”
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. “But you’re here now. You let him go.”
“And you let her go.”
We sit like that for a moment, the weight of it lifting slightly, replaced by something warmer—something that feels like a fresh start. Then his lips curve into a small smile.
“For the record,” he says, his voice lower now, “I think you deserve someone who’s in it for you. Not for what you can give them or how they look standing next to you.”
My throat tightens, but I manage a soft smile. “Same goes for you.”
“You’re so fucking cute,” Harris murmurs, leaning toward me, his lips a breath away from mine.
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth blooming low in my stomach. “Thanks.”
He waits for me to say more . . .
Grins when I don’t.
“You’re a sassy thing.”
I am.
No denying that.
“You can lower your walls, Lucy. I’m not going to disappoint you.”
My heart stutters, and for a second, I can’t speak. The way he says it—like he means every word and he’s willing to prove it—makes my defenses flicker.
“I know,” I whisper, my voice softer than I intended.
“Do you?” His hand gently cups my cheek, and I lean into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment to soak in the warmth. When I open them, he’s watching me closely, gaze so intense it feels like he can see straight through me.
I shake my head. “No.” But I’m going to throw caution to the wind and take you at your word. “What if you get more than you bargained for from me?”
He grins, but there’s nothing cocky about it. “Do I look like I can’t handle more than I bargained for?”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep the squeamish flutters out of my stomach.
Impossible. Harris is irresistible. “How was practice today?”
His massive shoulders shrug as he slides closer to me still. “Let me put it this way: If Annabelle wasn’t desperate, I’d be out on my ass and out of a gig.”
“That bad?” Aren’t men born with a wood-chopping gene?
“That bad.” The thing is, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered.
“At least you’re not embarrassed.”
He leans toward me, voice dropping, making my pulse race. “What’s the point of being good at everything when you can be bad and have a little fun?”
I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “You make it sound like being bad is your goal.”
“I’m not much of a masochist. I like winning too much to not at least give it effort.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am: that maybe this conversation isn’t about lumberjacking. Maybe he’s talking about sex. Or relationships. Or . . .
Or . . .
“What do you usually do on the weekends?” Harris switches gears again, diving into a new topic.
I tilt my head to the side, thinking about what a typical weekend looks like. Boring. “Um. I work. I hang out in town. Hike.”
Harris raises an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Hiking, eh? Let me guess—you’ve got one of those cute backpacks with a water bottle on the side and snacks perfectly packed.”
I laugh, nudging his shoulder. “What’s wrong with being prepared?”
“Nothing.” His eyes flicker with amusement. “I can’t see you roughing it in the woods.”
“That’s because I hate roughing it in the woods—the only time I want to see a tent is if it’s pitched in someone else’s backyard for a party.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Good to know. So if I ever invite you camping, I should probably throw in a promise of a luxury cabin.”