“If anyone was doing the rushing, it was Harper…” Tor muttered.
“So we come up with a plan—” Brad started to say, but I cut him off.
“You do that.” I nodded to the interior of the new house we were working on. “I’ll start on the wiring in the bathroom.”
“Mack…”
I didn’t hang around to hear what they had to say, because none of it mattered. Whatever I suggested, whatever I did, it’d be wrong until one of the bears came to the same conclusion.
Well, I’d show them.
I was gonna get through to Harper, at least get her considering us as an option, because standing around talking shit never made a lick of difference.
Action did.
I opened up my toolbox and then went to work.
I’d takenmy own truck this morning, unable to bear the mopey bullshit the guys were wallowing in, and so I headed off at the end of the day towards Harper’s place. I’d ducked home, had a quick shower and put on some clean clothes. The bears had it half right. Making a good impression, gaining her trust, that was all important. I raked my hair back from my face, staring intothe rear vision mirror, trying to psych myself up for walking up to Harper’s door, when some shitty piece of crap car pulled up and beeped the horn.
My eyes narrowed as I took him in. Cheap, loud printed shirt, elbow resting on the door of his car, the little prick slouched against his seat like he was some kind of boy racer or something. Who the hell was he beeping for, I wondered, right as Harper’s door opened.
Oh no, she didn’t.
She walked out looking like a fucking wet dream. I knew because she’d featured in mine every night since the moment we met, and this dress would make its debut the moment my eyes closed tonight. Black, slinky, yet flaring out around those fucking gorgeous legs as she walked downstairs.
Towards the dick in the shitbox car.
He didn’t even get out of his car and open the door. Instead he revved the engine, leering as she got closer. Even behind those mirrored shades, I knew he was checking her out. Just because I was doing the exact same thing didn’t mean that was OK. His one attempt at gallantry was to lean across and pop open the driver’s seat door open.
Don’t get in.
The depth and intensity of that prayer took me by surprise, but whatever capricious god looked after wolf shifters, I hoped they’d see things my way and persuade Harper to stay right where she was. Nope. Just like every other time, the fates laughed at me as she got into his car. He said something that I no doubt would’ve hated, then took off at a roar. The tinny sound of the engine rattling had my fangs grinding together, right as I turned the key in the ignition and then took off after them.
The guy was a dickhead. It wasn’t just his dubious choice in clothing or car, but the way he was weaving through traffic likehe was on a raceway or something. I kept my foot pressed hard on the accelerator, keeping pace with them, even when the idiot was weaving through traffic. The wolf’s keen sight saw her arm rise, clutching the oh-shit bar for dear life. I was pissed when she got into the car, but I was damn near ready to tear his head off his shoulders when they finally came to a stop in front of a restaurant.
Aurora. At least the prick had good taste. It was an upmarket place, one where we’d done a bit of work on the interior before they opened for business. Dickhead got out on his side, walking past Harper and towards the door, then stopping when she clambered out.
That’s when I saw his expression shift.
Even without the heels, she would’ve been half a head taller than him, but wearing those stilettos? He stared up at her, nose wrinkling. That’s what got me out of my own car and marching towards the door. Dickhead seemed to accept that even if Harper was taller than him, she was still a smokeshow, so he strolled in through the front door with her on his arm.
I followed at a safe distance behind them.
Just in time to see the server greet them at the door, then lead them towards a table at the back.
“Good evening, sir.” The man’s voice broke through my reverie. “Did you have a reservation?”
“Nope.” I fished out my wallet and then pulled out a fifty dollar bill. “But if you can get me a table beside the lady that just walked in here, I’d appreciate it.”
Greed and professionalism fought a battle inside the man, so I helped even the odds, offering him another fifty.
“Right this way, sir.”
It was the wolf that walked across the restaurant floor, not the man. He had our mate’s scent in our nose, her floral perfume doing little to mask it. That little flippy skirt of herdress, it was like a rag waved to enrage a bull, steam pouring from my nose as Dickhead sat down without bothering to pull out Harper’s chair.
I wanted to move forward and do it for her. I wanted her to turn around and see me, realising I’d meant every damn word I said last night. That I, we, were the right guys for her, not this idiot. Instead, I nodded to the server, then sat down at the seat offered to me and made a show of consulting the menu.
“Something to drink first, sir?” the server asked me.
