take Harper back to town, drop her off, and let her have the story because, in all honesty, he didn’t really need it.
The trip up there this weekend had been an excuse to get out of the city. His ex-fiancée, Libby, had showed up at his condo yet again, begging him to take her back. In the initial stages of the breakup, her desperate pleas had almost—emphasis on almost —made him feel sorry for her. But months later, after he’d had time to fully digest and comprehend the atrociousness of her lies, her whimpers and rants had only pissed him off. This last time, he’d finally stopped playing nice and told her if she came around again, he’d get a restraining order, which had sent her into a fit of hysterical bawling. He had to get out of there.
Once in his car, he found himself heading north over the Golden Gate, thinking it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get a little fresh air for the day. That’s when he’d remembered his interview with Christina and the café she’d mentioned up in St. Helena. Austin made a snap decision to head that way and take a couple of photos. Maybe get a few quotes from the owner who might’ve seen or met Christina when she’d come in. But then he’d bumped into Harper, and now, there he was.
You really should drop her off and let her have the story. That would be the honorable thing to do. But that’s not what he wanted. Austin wanted to spend a little more time with her. Because let’s face it, Harper is pretty damned hot. And, frankly, he enjoyed the competition. Yeah, he was such a guy.
Don’t be a dick, and maybe you can see her again when you’re ready. Just drop her off. Go home. There was still time to meet up with the guys for some Saturday hoops and beer. Maybe he’d even see what Bianca was up to tonight.
He quickly backpedaled on that thought. Bianca was a very, very good-looking woman, but she was the exact type he needed to steer clear of: superficial.
“So, where are you going to stay?” Harper asked nonchalantly.
See, that decides it. I don’t have a hotel room, and I’m not going to get one at such short notice. He’d heard from one of the police that there was some music festival going on that evening through Sunday, so when Harper had mentioned she’d snagged the last room in town, that was probably right.
“I, uh.” He paused. “I just forgot. I have a couple articles I need to review for Monday.”
“Wait a second.” Harper turned toward him. “Are you…taking off?”
“I wish I could stay and crack open this controversial cookie caper, but I’m afraid I have real news to report on.” He’d been lobbying for months to move over to the political commentary department and out of the local events section, which had been a nice place to start and learn the ropes at this newspaper, but he’d only taken it as a stepping stone. Reporting on weddings, fundraisers and other “fluff” events wasn’t really his thing.
He glanced at Harper, who now silently chewed her lip. Why the hell did she have to do that? She needed to stop trying to seduce him. Not that she was, but it felt like it.
“I think I understand; you’re giving me a pity story,” she said.
Austin flashed a quick glance her way as he slowed the convertible and approached the city limits. “No. I really have a lot of work to do, and…” Crap. He was giving her a pity story. “I have what I need already; I wasn’t planning on doing a full page or anything. It was a little fluff piece for the back page.”
Harper glanced away. Now she looked like the cork of a champagne bottle that had been shaken, the pressure slowly building, pushing the projectile to ignition.
Run away! Run away, he screamed in his head.
They passed the café’s arch, and he signaled to turn toward the B and B where Harper was staying.
“You can let me out right here,” she said coldly. She pointed to a spot just around the corner, close to where he’d spent the night in his