Spencer Hernandez is a kind-hearted firefighter in Haughville, Indiana. After working his long 24 hour shifts, he goes to diner where he spends time with her.
Between her gorgeous face and fast wit, Harper Kennedy is the woman of Spencer's dreams...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I didn't know what to say when I picked up Harper the next morning. Did I tell her everything would be okay even though I couldn't guarantee that? Did I tell her she looked nice in her black jeans and floral button-up shirt? Since I couldn't think what the right thing to say would be, we just drove in silence to the police station.
I could feel her nervousness. I tentatively moved my hand from the steering wheel to touch her knee. In a matter of a split second, I realized what a bad and somewhat disrespectful move that was. I awkwardly took my hand off her knee and placed it in my lap, doing my best to keep my face from showing how much I was internally kicking myself. To my surprise, I felt something warm on my hand. I looked over to see Harper placing my hand on the middle of her thigh.
"It's comforting," she said with a smile.
My heart beat harder against my chest as I basked in the smoothness of her leg.
I pulled up to the station and put my car in park. I looked over at Harper, who was studying the building intently like she was going to be tested on each individual brick placement. She twisted her fingers and bit her lower lip.
I squeezed her leg. "Are you okay?"
Her eyes darted to mine. "Of course," she answered quickly.
"Hey," I used my calm fireman voice. I moved my hand from her leg to her shoulder. Harper's eyes followed my movement, but she didn't move away from my touch. "Whatever happens in there, it's going to be okay. It can't get worse than it is now, right?"
Harper nodded in agreement, her crimson lips even. She turned her head and looked at the red brick building again. She swallowed, then looked back at me. "Let's go."
I gave her one last reassuring smile before we got out of my car. As we walked toward the building, I found the desire to wrap a comforting arm around her. She was hugging herself as we approached the reception desk.
"Can I help you?" the woman behind the desk asked.
I looked at Harper. She said nothing, her eyes wide with fear and worry.
I turned my attention to the receptionist. "We're here to see Detective Lance. Well, she is. Harper Kennedy."
The woman pursed her lips as she typed into her computer. I looked over at Harper. Her long fingers were wrapped so tightly around her purse strap her knuckles were white.
"Take a seat over there." The woman gestured to a row of clack and metal chairs.
I gave Harper a gentle nudge. "Come on."
She followed me over to the chairs, and we sat. Once again, I found myself fighting the urge to put a comforting hand on her somewhere. While I'd gotten away with it in the car, I wasn't sure she would feel the same about a public building when we were just friends.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Like I'm going to throw up."
Her nerves must be getting the better of her, so I offer, "I can get you a water bottle."
