Page 62 of Three Steps Behind

“But it’s too crowded in the house for us,” Susan added as she retook her seat.

Sinking into the patio chair brought a wealth of memories swooping over Harper. All of the parties Taylor threw—birthdays, holiday celebrations, weekend barbecues—all spent out here. It was hard to wrap her head around it all. It seemed too surreal.

“You okay, honey?” Susan asked, patting her on her knee.

Harper nodded as tears stung her eyes. She fluttered her lashes, hoping to dash them away, but they fell all the same.

Deck managed to exit the door holding two plates, each balancing a steaming cup. He caught her gaze, and his eyes softened—blue with the sexiest crease lines. Should she even be thinking sexy at a remembrance ceremony? Though, she imagined, it was just a factual statement. Just like he had a cowboy face—rugged jaw, sun-weathered skin, and eyes that popped compared to his almost-perpetual tan. It was hard to believe he’d only lived that lifestyle since he’d become an adult. It felt so intrinsic to who he was.

“Here you go.” He handed her a cup of steaming something.

She lifted it up, inhaling the swirling vapor. Apple cider with cinnamon sticks. Yum. Next, he handed her a plate. “What’s this?”

“Nick’s mom’s homemade apple cobbler. She insisted I bring you some.”

She smiled. Of course Dorothy had. She loved Nick’s mom. Just the man himself she wasn’t wow on. But she had to gain a neutral stance. She was going in too hot and too strong to be truly observant. She’d miss the forest for the trees—by focusing on all the little things rather than the overarching picture.

“Who’s your friend?” Susan asked with a smile.

“Oh, sorry. This is Deckard MacLeod.” How she wished she could say something far more personal, but she let that drop too.

“Nice to meet you,” Susan greeted Deck.

Steve finished his sip of whatever he was drinking and nodded a greeting. He wiped his mouth of . . . chocolate?

“Let me guess. Aunt Rose?” Harper asked. His aunt was famous for her homemade hot cocoa, and the lady was a little infamous too, but those were stories for another day.

“Yep.” Steve nodded. “Amazing as always.”

She turned to George—tall and lean with thinning brown hair. Young for thinning hair. “And this is George.”

“Nice to meet you,” George said, then shoved another bite of green bean casserole into his mouth.

Never a conversationalist.

“How do you know the family?” Deck asked.

“I went to college with Nick,” he said between bites.

“Oh nice. Where at?”

George swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Northwestern.”

“Great school.”

“It is.”

Definitely not a talker.

“I heard you moved here,” Harper said.

“Yep.”

“Oh, really.” Deck smiled. “From where?”

Was it just her, or did George seem increasingly irked by their questions?

“From Chicago.” He shoved another bite of the casserole into his mouth.