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mattered that Delilah was a year older than her. They’d hung in the same social circles because the circles were so damn small.
    â€œBryan Atkins was an asshole,” Harper muttered as she started for the front of the store. Delilah fell into step beside her. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”
    â€œI figured. No surprise considering you let him walk away from you so easily that night. I would’ve kneed my date in the balls if he had done something like that,” Delilah said as she walked briskly by Harper’s side. Harper would never shake her. Not that she really wanted to, but . . .
    She didn’t want to talk about Bryan Atkins, or anyone else for that matter. No, she wanted to savor the moment of seeing West for the first time in ages. She’d gotten a good look at him—and he at her—before he ran away from her like a coward. His sky blue eyes had studied her with a warmth and curiosity that intrigued her despite her long-held resentment toward him.
    He was taller and broader than the last time they’d been in each other’s presence. That white T-shirt he wore stretched over his muscles quite nicely. Too nicely. His jeans fit—very well.
    Harper cleared her throat. She was sounding more and more like her grandma in her own head. More like she should think how great his ass looked in those jeans—because it did, it looked freaking amazing. But no. She went the staid, boring route, even in her thoughts. Did that mean she was turning into a prissy old woman?
    God, she hoped not. She should ask Roger. He’d be honest with her. He was honest to a fault. They worked together—both literally and figuratively. She was the office manager of his accounting firm and they made a terrific pair. A solid team.
    â€œBryan wasn’t worth my anger,” Harper said with a gentle smile.
    Gentle and kind , those were the two words her grandma used to describe her the most. Not a little spitfire or feisty or strong or even bitchy. Nope. Her claim to fame was being gentle and kind. Harper hated those two words with a burning passion. What would people think if she was aggressive and mean? Wouldn’t that throw them for a loop? She’d always yearned to tear down those kind, gentle walls she’d built around herself over the years and just act . . . crazy. Out of her damn mind. Do whatever she wanted and damn the consequences.
    But Harper had never done anything like that in her entire life. Roger would probably be horrified if she acted out that way. He wasn’t one for making a big scene. He was as calm and gentle and kind as she was.
    â€œAnd West is worth it? He’s not so bad,” Delilah said, waving a dismissive hand. “Harmless. I’m sure he gave you and Wren endless grief when you were kids, but I know he always liked you.”
    â€œHe did?” Harper tried her best not to sound too shocked—or interested. Had he actually talked about her? To Delilah?
    She’d figured she never registered on his radar growing up, beyond being his sister’s best friend. He’d been too busy getting in trouble for various things—like bringing a flask of vodka to the homecoming dance, wrecking his car after an illegal street race when he was sixteen and practically failing out of school his junior year. He’d straightened up a little by the time he was a senior, but still. Everyone knew that Weston was trouble.
    â€œOh yeah. You know, we always remained friends, even after we broke up,” Delilah said. “Our relationship had always been based more on friendship anyway.”
    Really? Harper wanted to ask, but she kept her mouth shut, which she knew was wise. If she asked too many questions she’d look suspicious. And Delilah was perceptive as all get out.
    â€œThat’s . . . nice.” Harper didn’t know what else to say as they approached the registers and stood in line together. She glanced