Willow considered going with a noncommittal shrug and blasé attitude for just over half a second before she bit her lip and dropped her forehead onto the counter. “He’s absolutely amazing,” she said, turning her head and peering at her friend. “I don’t get it.”
“Sounds like you get it just fine.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Willow sat up and cradled her mug in both hands. “I’m so drawn to him. Like, I’ve never felt so comfortable next to a stranger. Like…” She waved a hand, looking for the right way to describe the instant connection between them.
“Like he completes you?”
“Yes! Like I understand myself more because he’s around. Like he’s the answer to questions I didn’t even know I was asking.”
“I don’t have any idea what that’s like,” Juliet said sarcastically, as she gestured at the seating chart for her wedding reception on the table in front of her.
Willow ran a hand through her hair. “I so get how confused you must have been when you first met Ian. Falling for him so fast, knowing it was too fast, but completely unable to make yourself listen to reason. These Moore’s are just so charismatic.”
“They’re definitely charismatic, although maybe, it’s more than that. Maybe you’ve finally met the man who will sweep you off your feet.”
“Maybe he’s my Romeo!” Willow sat back and let her mouth drop open, allowing herself to consider, just for a minute, the possibility that the statement could be true.
That Harry might be a life-altering kind of love…
It almost felt like another sign…
Juliet snorted. “Great. So you’re gonna fall madly in love with him, forsake your family, and then you’ll both be dead by the end of the week. Sounds lovely. Could you please try and stick around long enough for my wedding? You know, since I scheduled it around your needs and all that.”
“Okay, so maybe he’s not my Romeo.” Willow pursed her lips and bumped her shoulder against her friend’s. “Maybe he’s my Ian.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything better for you. I mean, if you find someone who makes you feel the way Ian makes me feel, and he just happens to be Harry, and he steals you away from ACB and you end up here with us…well...I guess I’ll have just won the karmic lottery or something, marrying the man of my dreams and having you living in Bliss, too.”
All the air left Willow’s lungs in one heavy sigh.
Somehow, in all the heart-fluttering, stomach-twisting wonderfulness of meeting Harrison Moore, she forgot she only had a handful of days with him.
No matter how weak in the knees he made her feel, he was temporary.
Before she knew it, she’d be back in the city, spending hours in the studio during the day and hours in the theater at night.
Which basically meant she didn’t have room in her life to fall in love.
Especially not with someone who lived so far away.
Chapter Eleven
Willow
Somehow, knowing she had less than a week with Harry had only made Willow more eager to see him. Instead of putting him out of her head and focusing on Juliet like a good maid of honor, her thoughts expanded to include only Harry. Despite her sobering realization, her heart still yammered away as the minute hand made its tedious climb toward one o’clock.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes before the hour, Willow jumped up from her place at the bar and sprinted toward the door.
“Bye, love!” she called over her shoulder to Juliet.
“Have fun!” Julz singsonged back. “Don’t forget our dinner plans tonight!”
“Double done! Wish me luck!” She still wasn’t exactly sure what she thought she was doing, spending the day with the guy when nothing could happen between them. Nothing real anyway. Not with her life in New York and his life in Bliss.
But, when she pulled open the front door, all her worries about then faded away.
With a man like that standing in front of her, she’d be a fool not to live in the now.
Harry looked amazing. Wearing a pair of slim-fit slacks and a V-neck tee which clung to his trim frame and accentuated his height, he oozed understated elegance.
A smile tugged at his lips, lighting his stunning eyes, and he let out a low whistle. “For a woman who was a sandy, sweaty mess a couple hours ago, you clean up really nice.”
Willow sat back on her heel and pretended to analyze him, enjoying every inch of his body as her eyes slid from his head to his feet. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
And by ‘not half bad’ I mean you look like a fucking model.
He offered her his elbow and she happily threaded her arm into his, all thoughts of New York, The Nutcracker, and whatever else giving way to more important things, like how good he smelled, how hot he looked, and how sweet it was that he offered her his elbow.
Harry led her to a gorgeous vintage convertible of some kind or another—candy apple red with white leather interior, and, from the looks of it, fully restored. Between his personal style, the car, and the fact that they were standing in paradise, the scene felt like something out of a classic movie. The hero, lean, cool, and confident, hands in pockets and eyes on hers.
With her fingers trailing along the gleaming paint, she met his gaze, lifting an appreciative eyebrow. “This is gorgeous.”
“She didn’t come that way.” Harry ran a loving hand across the hood. “Took a lot of work to get her to where she is.”
“Expensive work or time-consuming work?”
“A little of both. Some of the parts were hard to come by, so I had to spend a bit to get them. It’s been a labor of love. You should have seen her when I found her in that barn, rusted all to hell. Her body was shot to shit, but the frame was
