The Foster Girls #1: Harper

Chapter 1: I Don't Have A Weak Chin

"What about that guy at table 13? He's kind of cute?"

My newly-married friend, Chessie Robinson, was pointing out men to me to tempt me from my self-imposed no-dating edict. We were at a charity function her father's company was sponsoring, and Chessie and I were lurking in the shadows where we could take in the entire room. Being deliriously happy, she wanted to spread that wealth to me. Everyone should be so happy. She had a mission in life.

"If you like receding hairlines and weak chins," I snarked back.

"OK, then the blond at table 20. He's good-looking."

"Yes, and his boyfriend thinks so, too."

"Fine," she huffed in frustration. "Well, you can't argue about the guy at table eight being attractive."

"I'm five three. So is he."

"I'm still trying to figure out where Rome Romano is sitting," she said, scanning the room with serious intent. "Dad said he RSVP'd that he'd be here. That man is hot and even you couldn't find one thing wrong with his looks."

Based on what I'd heard about this man, she was not wrong, but I was withholding judgment until I actually saw him myself. Although I was a very recent transplant to Birch Falls, you couldn't live here for more than ten minutes and not hear about Rome Romano. He'd lived in our town for years, was said to be insanely handsome, incredibly tall and built like a god. He was the president of a huge motorcycle club, the Dragon's Inferno, and although no one was sure exactly what his MC did (aside from owning a crazy number of businesses), whatever it was made him and his club a lot of money. Obscene amounts of money that allowed him to run our town, our county, and pretty much our state. If something was happening, Rome and his MC played a part. He was known to meet with both politicians and crime bosses alike and was considered a prize to be caught. Wherever Rome was, you could be sure women were there throwing themselves at him relentlessly.

"I've never seen him, so I'll have to take your word for it, but I have heard he's a total player, so that's definitely not in his favor."

Chessie rolled her eyes at me. "So he's the hit-it-and-quit-it type, but aren't they all until they decide to settle down? Besides, a virgin like you needs an experienced guy to help her along."

"Geez, Chessie, why don't you say that a little louder because I don't think the DJ on the other side of the room heard you."

She shrugged. "I'm just saying that an experienced guy is a good thing. Trust me. The more experience, the better." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at me. "I should know."

"Stop grossing me out."

"Whatever. Hmm, my man is signaling to me. I'll go have a dance with him and then I'll come right back."

She made her way toward our table and I was left sipping my lemon drop. I sensed a man come up beside me and almost dropped my glass at his perfection.

He towered over me, and I could barely form a thought other than holy shit.

He had thick, black hair, running a little long, he obviously hadn't shaved in a day or two and his eyes were a rich, chocolate brown framed by short, black lashes. There was no way his suit was anything but custom made because it looked like he could bench press a small country with those arms and shoulders. No way he could buy a suit off the rack to fit his build. I could see the edges of some ink just peeping out from his collar.

"Would you like to dance?" His low voice rumbled the question at me.

"Only if you want your feet stepped on," I answered stupidly, completely overwhelmed. I felt like my little sister, Elizabeth, who was so shy, social situations were horribly awkward for her. She'd be on the floor if she could see me right now.