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His knees felt a little wobbly.
Harper was even more beautiful up close. Long hair the color of the sun riding low in the sky, reds and golden browns and strands of blonde that waved past her slim shoulders, with that cute little pert nose sprinkled with freckles. Freckles she’d always hated.
That one night, his last in his hometown, he’d done his damnedest to kiss every single one.
Her dark brown eyes flashed at him and those perfect, delicious, bee-stung lips didn’t slide up in that natural sunny smile of hers. Harper Hill was friendly. Beyond friendly. The entire Hill family had a reputation to uphold in this town and Harper was just as cheerful as all the rest of them. She had a natural way about her, drawing people in, always surrounded by friends—by people who wanted to be her friend, like it was a privilege to bask in her glory.
Right now though, she looked like she wanted to draw and quarter West. Maybe hang him up by his toes so he dangled above the ground, much like he remembered his dad and grandpa doing when they caught a buck during hunting season.
Yeah. He’d never been one for blood sport as a kid or an adult. Harper though? She appeared ready to shoot him dead with just the look in her pretty brown eyes.
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