HAPPY PANTS CAFE (THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES) by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Read Free Book Online Page B

that room. What’s your name?”
    “Austin Royce. But I didn’t register. We kind of,” he cleared his throat, “ran into each other.”
    She looked at him guardedly. “Ah, I see. Well, my son must’ve mixed up the registration cards. He was the one who checked her in.” She picked up the phone. “I hope you’re not offended, but I think I’ll call up to the room and just double-check.”
    Lady, please hurry! “Of course. Can’t have strangers running around.”
    The woman held the phone to her ear. “Good evening, ma’am. This is Mrs. Kelly from the lobby. There seems to be a mix-up with the registration cards, and I just wanted to verify your name so I can straighten it out in our system.” The woman listened. “Oh, that’s odd. I have a gentleman down here saying your name is Marie.”
    What is going on?
    Mrs. Kelly nodded. “Makes perfect sense. I’ll send him right up.” She hung up the phone. “Miss Branton goes by her middle name, not Harper, which is why the card didn’t match.”
    Austin blinked. Had he just heard that correctly? “Harper? Harper Branton?”
    The woman nodded. “Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”
    What the hell? Harper Branton? Harper Branton? I knew it. I knew she looked familiar. But the Harper he remembered had no front teeth, dirt on her face, frogs in her pockets, and was as flat as a board. This was not… that . She looked nothing like he remembered.
    Holy hell. But why hadn’t she told him? In that moment, Austin’s blood began to boil. She lied to me. She’s been lying to me all night.
    “Uh, no, nothing’s wrong.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I forgot something in my car. I’ll be right back.”
    He left, resisting the urge to go back up to that room and give that lying, deceitful woman a piece of his mind, but…
    Harper Branton. How can that be her?

CHAPTER THREE
    The next morning, Harper rolled over onto her stomach and glanced at her phone. Saturday. Oh, thank goodness. Because she was absolutely certain that space aliens had been prodding her brain last night. She pressed her hands to her temples and groaned into the pillow. What in God’s name had happened?
    She rolled onto her back again and stared at the ceiling, trying to piece it all together. First, there’d been her run-in with Austin ( oh, the horror ), and he’d insisted on them eating together. Second, lots of wine and hours of invigorating conversation ( not horrible at all ). Third, they’d made out on the sidewalk ( move that needle over to slurp-slurp. Where have you been all my life? ). Fourth, they’d made out in her room and were about to have what promised to be the best sex of her life. Then he left, I got sick, and he never came back.
    She rolled her head back and forth. “What was I thinking, anyway?” She wasn’t the type to hop into bed with a guy just because he was hotter than hell during a heat wave. There were serious, incurable cooties out in the world, not to mention a girl’s reputation. Harper believed in casual sex in moderation in a safe and non- whorey kind of way.
    Thank God he’d had the sense to walk away.
    Wait. Why did he walk away? Why did he change his mind about wanting me? He wasn’t the kind of guy to get cold feet. Or, at least, he didn’t seem that way. And he certainly hadn’t been faking their connection. In fact, she was certain that last night’s act of “pinot-graphy” was partially brought on by their excitement over it. Talking to Austin felt so easy and wonderful, like being home again .
    Only your home is a really kinky place that makes you want to do naughty, adult-type things, like using his hard man-branch to create a human chocolate fondue fork.
    Harp…you can’t pierce strawberries with that and then dip it into melted chocolate. He would not enjoy that.
    Or would he? Because she sure as hell would, and strangely, they still had everything in common, just like when they were kids. (No, no. There were no chocolate