Synopsis
Eddie
Neff needs space. Not the type that country stars croon about, but
physical distance from her emotionally distant father and the tatters of
a broken relationship. So when the opportunity to relocate her life and
interior design business arises, the answer comes easily.
Adjusting to life with Claire, her gregarious new roommate, is more than simply testing comfort limits. With just one meeting, Eddie finds herself unable to resist the draw of Harris Grant, Claire’s brooding and overprotective older brother.
Harris doesn’t fit her idea of a safe relationship. He pushes Eddie to face her deepest insecurities and fears of abandonment. And Harris holds on to his own painful loss, unable to overcome personal demons.
Eddie and Harris must learn to conquer their internal struggles. But as they navigate their new love, outside forces fight to drive them apart.
Adjusting to life with Claire, her gregarious new roommate, is more than simply testing comfort limits. With just one meeting, Eddie finds herself unable to resist the draw of Harris Grant, Claire’s brooding and overprotective older brother.
Harris doesn’t fit her idea of a safe relationship. He pushes Eddie to face her deepest insecurities and fears of abandonment. And Harris holds on to his own painful loss, unable to overcome personal demons.
Eddie and Harris must learn to conquer their internal struggles. But as they navigate their new love, outside forces fight to drive them apart.
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Excerpt
The next week begins uneventfully. Claire and I go about our normal work routines, and things are peaceful. I know that this won’t be a long term living situation for me, but this existence works for the time being. Of course, the absence of Harris probably has made her more relaxed. I haven’t seen or heard from him since Saturday evening. Now, Wednesday night, I’m antsy for another encounter. Sarah’s right, I need to get his number and make things happen.
I’m working on dinner when the front door opens and closes more softly than usual. I’m in the middle of singing to myself, On my Own from Les Miserables, when he starts making his way into the condo. I do not hide my voice from him, instead I work through the words of the song, emoting the loneliness held in the lyrics.
Before I see him, I feel him. The way my heart starts galloping in my chest, the knife becoming slippery in my damp palm. My skin starts to tingle, still humming in appreciation from his earlier touches. I sing softly to myself, the words slipping out. I don’t feel the usual rush of shyness. He should see this side of me.
When our eyes connect as he enters the kitchen, I know he’s feeling something, too, by the way that his eyes soften at the sight of me and his lips flicker upward for a half second. I cut the song short, ending before the singer professes her love.
Neither of us speaks as he crosses the galley kitchen. I avert my eyes back to the task in front of me as he moves behind me. He places one palm on either side of countertop, caging me in.
I concentrate on my breathing, but it doesn’t help the racing of my heart or the butterflies of excitement fluttering in my stomach. We’re not physically touching, but every pore of my body hums with energy.
“Do you feel that?” he asks huskily.
“Yes,” I breathe.
His cheek brushes against my hair in an achingly tender gesture.
“Good.”
His arms drop and he puts distance between us, his features oddly calm.
Wow.
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