she could simply talk and send texts sans typing. Although, come to think of it, that could lead to even longer messages. Gathering her thoughts, Harper texted back, reminding herself not to use acronyms because Daisy always asked for an explanation, which, made their exchanges twice as long.
NO RAT PACK CONNECTIONS. JUST WAKING. NEED TO CHECK MY AGENDA. CAN I GET BACK TO YOU LATER ON PLACE AND TIME ?
Harper’s brain cramped as she spelled out each and every word. Maybe she could turn Daisy on to Skype or FaceTime. She hoped the woman didn’t press because Harper needed to mentally prepare before she committed to leaving the house. She also wanted to get her thoughts together regarding the loss of her job and her impending marriage to a man she barely knew. One of Sugar Creek’s own. A Cupcake Lover, no less. Relation to Daisy, Rocky, Luke, and by extension of marriage, Rae and Chloe. Harper realized suddenly that by saying yes to Sam she’d signed on with the entire Monroe clan.
“Good Lord.”
She groaned when her phone chimed with Daisy’s response.
VINCENT’S GRANDAUGHTER WAS IN LAS VEGAS LAST MONTH. SHE MET DON RICKLES. MAYBE HE CAN HELP US.
Don Rickles? Wasn’t he like a hundred and five by now?
JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU CAN SQUEEZE ME IN. I’M FLEXIBLE. HOW’S YOUR PLUMBING TODAY? SAM’S A WONDER, ISN’T HE ?
Harper blinked. She knew Daisy was referring to her fake flood in the kitchen, but her wording sent Harper’s thoughts down another road. Her face heated as she wrote … SAM’S GR 8. TTYL .
A second later, Daisy texted: WHAT’S THAT MEAN ?
Gah. Harper had no sooner typed out every word of her previous message, signing off with Daisy, than her phone chimed again. This time it was Sam. Even though he couldn’t see her, she smoothed her mussed hair as she read his text.
U OK ?
Harper’s pulse tripped. No polite greeting, but a show of concern. She typed: FINE. U ?
GOOD .
KIDS ?
KICKING MY ASS .
She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. Although she knew his son, Ben, was shy and nerdy and often sulky. Little Mina was the opposite—an animated, demanding chatterbox who had Sam wrapped around her little finger.
ABT THE PROPOSAL … Sam continued.
Harper tensed. CHANGE YR MIND ?
NO. U ?
NO .
Harper frowned when her phone actually rang. Apparently Sam felt the need to speak. She pushed up and leaned back against her mountain of pillows. She cleared her froggy throat. “Yes?”
“Let’s keep this private until we discuss specifics,” Sam said.
The sound of his voice sent a sizzle through her being. He could probably give her an orgasm by reading a grocery list. She knew she had it bad for the man—sexually—but this was ridiculous. Assuming the kids were within hearing distance, Harper kept her response clean and short. “Okay.”
“Are you free for lunch?”
She blinked. “What? Like a date?”
“It would help pave the way if we established a relationship. Lunch for starters.”
Harper saw the logic. Marrying out of the blue would cause community gossip and maybe tweak the suspicions of the USCIS field office. Wedding an American simply to attain a green card was highly discouraged. “I’ll whip up something for us here,” she said.
“The point is to be seen, Harper. Together. In public.”
A restaurant. With employees and customers. People she didn’t know. Where anyone could go postal.
“You still there?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“One would be better,” she said. More time to mentally prepare.
“One it is.”
Harper stonewalled a nagging what if. “Okay.”
They disconnected and she swung out of bed with a “can do” attitude.
Yesterday, Spin Twin Cities had served her a pink slip and lemons.
Last night, Sam had provided a recipe for lemonade.
He was right. They could both benefit from this business arrangement, the hot sex being a perk. She knew she was hard to take sometimes. She could be manic and
NO RAT PACK CONNECTIONS. JUST WAKING. NEED TO CHECK MY AGENDA. CAN I GET BACK TO YOU LATER ON PLACE AND TIME ?
Harper’s brain cramped as she spelled out each and every word. Maybe she could turn Daisy on to Skype or FaceTime. She hoped the woman didn’t press because Harper needed to mentally prepare before she committed to leaving the house. She also wanted to get her thoughts together regarding the loss of her job and her impending marriage to a man she barely knew. One of Sugar Creek’s own. A Cupcake Lover, no less. Relation to Daisy, Rocky, Luke, and by extension of marriage, Rae and Chloe. Harper realized suddenly that by saying yes to Sam she’d signed on with the entire Monroe clan.
“Good Lord.”
She groaned when her phone chimed with Daisy’s response.
VINCENT’S GRANDAUGHTER WAS IN LAS VEGAS LAST MONTH. SHE MET DON RICKLES. MAYBE HE CAN HELP US.
Don Rickles? Wasn’t he like a hundred and five by now?
JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU CAN SQUEEZE ME IN. I’M FLEXIBLE. HOW’S YOUR PLUMBING TODAY? SAM’S A WONDER, ISN’T HE ?
Harper blinked. She knew Daisy was referring to her fake flood in the kitchen, but her wording sent Harper’s thoughts down another road. Her face heated as she wrote … SAM’S GR 8. TTYL .
A second later, Daisy texted: WHAT’S THAT MEAN ?
Gah. Harper had no sooner typed out every word of her previous message, signing off with Daisy, than her phone chimed again. This time it was Sam. Even though he couldn’t see her, she smoothed her mussed hair as she read his text.
U OK ?
Harper’s pulse tripped. No polite greeting, but a show of concern. She typed: FINE. U ?
GOOD .
KIDS ?
KICKING MY ASS .
She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. Although she knew his son, Ben, was shy and nerdy and often sulky. Little Mina was the opposite—an animated, demanding chatterbox who had Sam wrapped around her little finger.
ABT THE PROPOSAL … Sam continued.
Harper tensed. CHANGE YR MIND ?
NO. U ?
NO .
Harper frowned when her phone actually rang. Apparently Sam felt the need to speak. She pushed up and leaned back against her mountain of pillows. She cleared her froggy throat. “Yes?”
“Let’s keep this private until we discuss specifics,” Sam said.
The sound of his voice sent a sizzle through her being. He could probably give her an orgasm by reading a grocery list. She knew she had it bad for the man—sexually—but this was ridiculous. Assuming the kids were within hearing distance, Harper kept her response clean and short. “Okay.”
“Are you free for lunch?”
She blinked. “What? Like a date?”
“It would help pave the way if we established a relationship. Lunch for starters.”
Harper saw the logic. Marrying out of the blue would cause community gossip and maybe tweak the suspicions of the USCIS field office. Wedding an American simply to attain a green card was highly discouraged. “I’ll whip up something for us here,” she said.
“The point is to be seen, Harper. Together. In public.”
A restaurant. With employees and customers. People she didn’t know. Where anyone could go postal.
“You still there?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“One would be better,” she said. More time to mentally prepare.
“One it is.”
Harper stonewalled a nagging what if. “Okay.”
They disconnected and she swung out of bed with a “can do” attitude.
Yesterday, Spin Twin Cities had served her a pink slip and lemons.
Last night, Sam had provided a recipe for lemonade.
He was right. They could both benefit from this business arrangement, the hot sex being a perk. She knew she was hard to take sometimes. She could be manic and
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