Chapter Three

Noah Gunderson had traveled the world for years, soaking in everything he could in every culture he encountered along the way. He’d consumed yak butter tea in Nepal. Grappa in Tuscany. Ouzo in Greece. He even ingested boa constrictor in the Congo and huitlacoche, which is pretty disgusting corn fungus, in Mexico.

And now, it seems, he was about to swallow the bitter bile of rage, courtesy of one unfortunately hot-looking former love of his life, Harper Landry, right here in the confines of his Subaru Outback along the glorious coastline of North Carolina. Noah had hoped to avoid such an encounter by eventually approaching Harper on his terms, but fate had something entirely different in mind. Here he sat, temporarily driving Uber while he got his shit together, and there she perched, his fare for the next twenty minutes, with a date, no less. One whose hand—judging by the view when he readjusted his rearview mirror—was crawling up her thigh.

Well, fuck. This was so not the plan he’d mapped out in his head, which involved maybe lavishing her with flowers and champagne and perhaps even a puppy—she’d always wanted a puppy, hadn’t she? But now, instead, not only was he about to get a well-deserved ream of steaming shit served on a silver platter, but he also had to digest the fact that he was delivering this evidently happy, horny couple to one address—and not hers, considering the unfamiliar locale. That meant she was likely heading to his house for a night of unbridled sex with this asshole who was staking his claim on the woman he’d fantasized about reconciling with after all these years (not to mention having bitter recriminations). Damn, he had his work cut out for him.

“Wait a minute—is that you, Harper?” He glanced in the rearview mirror in time to catch the lacerating glare of her eyes.

Her lip snarled. “Noah? Is that you? Noah love-’em-and-leave-’em Gunderson?” She threw him the stink-eye. “Not surprised you wouldn’t recognize me. That usually happens when you leave without a backward glance.”

Touché. He paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. He didn’t want to blow it on the first go-round. He figured there were going to be many of these if he wanted to try to win her back. It wasn’t going to be easy; even he recognized that he’d behaved like a cad when he left her with no warning. It was inexcusable, and he knew he’d better not start making excuses now.

Headlights coming toward him illuminated his passengers in the backseat. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he noted Harper had grown into a beautiful woman: those nearly translucent eyes he’d stared into so many times brought to mind the tropical waters of Bali. He’d spent time there and went on a whale watch in search of the magnificent blue whale, the largest animal on the planet, weighing in at 150 tons and up to 100 feet long. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle to behold. Yet as amazing as that was, was it better than the many quiet times he and Harper spent holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes? Hard to say, but right now he’d give anything to have that back.

He stole a glance at her hair—it had the slightest glimmer of copper threading its way through the chestnut curls—and yearned to run his fingers through it again as he’d done so many times before. His fingers clutched the steering wheel as he gritted his teeth. He’s the one who threw that all away. He wasn’t entitled to be mad at her or even jealous of the doofus coming onto her in the back seat. Well, okay, he could be jealous of him. Pissed even. She was everything he remembered her to be, only instead of the ubiquitous smile boasting those bright white teeth, she wore a scowl that he knew was reserved for him. Talk about a sucker punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I was back in town.”

“Huh,” she said. “Why on earth would you? Seems entirely in keeping with your not letting me know you were leaving town. At any rate, you must’ve thought I’d want to know.” She paused, her eyes thin slivers, like an angry snake. “You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone who cares.”

She was always good at digging the knife in when she wanted to.

“I’m sorry. Of course not,” he said, adjusting the rearview mirror again so he could get a better look at what that little shit was doing with Harper. He wasn’t sure which was paining him more: her churlish rejection of him, or the fact that this man’s hands were roaming her body while he had no other choice but to drive the car and feign ignorance.

God. Were they a couple? Had they been together for long? He’d received updates on Harper while his mother was alive, at least until she was too sick to bother anymore. She’d adored Harper and had hoped so much that Noah would rethink things and try to reclaim his long-lost love. He felt awful that it took his mother’s death to kick him hard enough in the ass to even attempt it. But maybe it was too late. He hadn’t contemplated that and instead assumed that somewhere in the back of his selfish brain, she’d be waiting for him. That was his first mistake.

The car was silent but for the whoosh-whoosh of the windshield wipers and the thrum of raindrops on the car roof. Oh and the giggles emanating from Harper’s mouth. Knowing that jerk was eliciting those responses from her was making Noah crazy. What was he doing? Where were his hands now? A glance in the mirror revealed him leaning toward Harper, his nose practically stuck in her ear. He was whispering sweet nothings, buttering her up, getting her ready for the close. Noah wasn’t stupid. He was, after all, a guy and recognized the silent negotiations going on, the push-pull of who was going to be allowed to do what and when. Judging by the joyful noises coming from his ex-girlfriend, that dude was going to for gold. Four aces. A hat trick.

Crap. He couldn’t let this happen right under his nose. Even if it was his own damned fault. He couldn’t have finally figured things out in that obtuse brain of his, only to discover it was too late because this monkey was swinging from her tree while he chauffeured them around the greater Verity Beach metropolitan area. He needed to do something to thwart this. He realized he hadn’t turned up his music again. Normally for a late-night call like this, he played seduction music; he figured the couple would appreciate the warm-up tunes. But now he switched to his world music channel, and the sound of a loud singer with a heavy synthetic drumbeat filled the car.

“So, Harps,” he said. “I was under the impression you were single.”

A look in the mirror revealed that diversionary question stopped Harper in her tracks. Sweet. Better still, it halted Mr. Wonderful from advancing the troops temporarily. For the win.

Harper frowned. “Do you mean now, or do you mean four years ago, when you left me high and dry while you indulged yourself and took off to sow your wild oats, or whatever the hell you were doing?”

Man, this was not going to be easy. Good thing Noah loved a challenge.

“About that.” He arched his brow and flicked his turn signal on. The car was uncomfortably quiet save for the click, click, click of the blinker. The sound could’ve been his brain, trying desperately to come up with a good excuse. His mind was like a lighter that had run out of butane, so as many times as you might flick that flint, no flame was gonna start up. The sucky thing was he didn’t have one.

Damn, life was so much simpler when you screwed up but had such an amazing explanation, the person you hurt couldn’t remain mad. Shame he couldn’t fabricate one right now. Fact was, he’d had four years to figure out the best way to explain it to Harper, and he’d not bothered to. Maybe in some ways, he hadn’t delved deep enough into it. Maybe he’d been running so much he hadn’t bothered with enough introspection. He knew he owed that to her. But how?

“I was hoping we could sit down and talk a little bit at some point in time?” He ended the sentence on an up-tone, attempting to be hopeful in the face of the undeniably pessimistic reality that she was more than likely about to go home and have sex with the douchebag next to her. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He ducked his head enough to catch her vigorously shaking her head in his mirror. “Oh, no,” she said. “The only catching that was attempted was me trying to find you to figure out why you did what you did. Too little too late to try to make things nice now. My boyfriend and I are quite happy, thank you.” To emphasize the point, she leaned in and kissed the bastard: her lips over his, mouth wide open. He clenched his jaw and squeezed hard on the steering wheel. It made him nuts to see her do that to such an undeserving character. Not that he knew a thing about him, but nevertheless that guy—and anyone after him—would always be the wrong man for Harper.

But what if the right guy had played his cards all wrong and blown it?