by Mandy Baxter
Harper’s gaze shifted to Galen. His feet were propped up on her coffee table, his laptop resting on his thighs. Whatever he was working on had his full attention, and Harper had never been so jealous of a piece of technology. “It’s been a few days, Sophie, and I’ve yet to have company in the shower. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Hey, I’ve got zero prospects at the moment. Until I can find a sexy marshal of my very own, I’ve got to live vicariously through you.”
Harper lifted her wineglass in a toast. “Let’s hope when you find him, he remembers you.”
“Amen to that.” Sophie clinked her glass against Harper’s.
By the time Harper’s friend left, Galen had only an hour of his shift left to go. Was it wrong to be annoyed that the other woman had monopolized Harper’s time, leaving him nothing to do but catch up on reports? He had a vague recollection of the vivacious blonde as one of the women who’d been with Harper that night at the bar. He’d barely noticed her, though. Hell, the entire sports pub could have burned down around them and he wouldn’t have noticed anything but Harper. Seriously, dude, time to let it go.
While she busied herself in the kitchen, Galen closed his laptop, no longer interested in work. “You’re lucky that Curt’s allowing you visitors.” He’d meant the comment to be good-natured, but suspected it came off sounding too harsh. She looked up from the sink, her expression sullen. Yep. Too harsh. “I just mean that your situation is unusual for such a high-profile case. That’s all.”
Harper rolled her eyes, and though she seemed dismissive, there was still a trace of concern in the hazel depths. “The only good thing about my work connections at the moment is the fact that the media has backed off. No droves of reporters or news vans parked out on the street. Don’t think Curt didn’t give me the riot act about reaching out to friends and family, though. I had to bitch up a storm for permission to see Sophie.”
“We’re good at what we do, Harper. We wouldn’t put these restrictions on you if we didn’t think they were necessary.”
“Yeah, I know.” She left the dishes she’d rinsed in the sink and turned away from him as she rifled through the refrigerator. “You know what I miss the most, though? Takeout. I’m seriously jonesing for some sushi. There’s a great place a mile or so from here on Burnside. It’s funny how something as simple as grabbing food at a restaurant can become so important.”
An opportunity presented itself and Galen wasn’t about to pass it up. Though they were civil now, he couldn’t deny that their current relationship had gotten off to a rocky start. Mostly because he’d been an insensitive dick who’d treated Harper like a piece of luggage to cart around. And though he still hadn’t forgiven Harper for lying to him all those months ago, he knew that what she was going through right now wasn’t easy. He had to start thinking of her as he would any other witness under his protection. She deserved any scrap of normalcy he could offer.
“Do you have a menu?” he asked.
Harper straightened and shut the refrigerator door. The smile she gave him almost made him forget why professional detachment was a good idea. “Are you serious? We can get takeout?” She fished a menu from a stack in a basket on the counter and handed it to him.
“Yep,” Galen replied. “I have the perfect delivery boy for the job.”
“Dude, you owe me big-time for this,” Landon said as he handed over the cardboard box of sushi takeout. “I had to drive across town to pick this up, you know.”
“Quit whining,” Galen said as he crossed to place the box on Harper’s dining room table. “You have to be over here in an hour for your shift anyway.”
“Yeah, sixty whole minutes. Just because you don’t have a life doesn’t mean that I don’t. Last time I checked, this badge I’m wearing doesn’t cover food delivery. Since you’ve ruined my evening, you might as well feed me.”
Galen hurried to the door, blocking his friend from entering. “Sorry, Deputy, but I only ordered for two.”
“You suck,” Landon griped as Galen moved to close the door. “I won’t forget about this. I’m so gonna make you my bitch when I run a witness security detail.”
“If,” Galen stressed. “If you ever run a security detail, you can pay me back. See ya.” He closed the door in Landon’s face, but that didn’t shut out the string of snarky comebacks Landon left in his wake.
“That was quick,” Harper replied as she emerged from her bedroom. She’d changed into a pair of yoga pants that hugged every soft curve of her ass and a little thin-strapped top that revealed the muscle definition of her slender arms. Namaste. “I thought it was against the rules for strangers to drop by.”
Galen smiled as he laid the food out on the table. “See, that’s where having a staff of trained professionals comes in handy.”
Harper’s mouth quirked in a half smile as she walked to the dining room and sat down. “You didn’t seriously have one of the deputies deliver us food, did you?”
“Landon’s on shift in an hour. He had nothing better to do.”
She eyed him suspiciously, her mouth still puckered in that not-quite smile. “Do you mean Deputy McCabe? I met him a few days ago. He’s a nice guy.”
Any woman with a pulse got a healthy dose of Landon McCabe charm, and Galen suspected his friend had doubled up with Harper. The detached professionalism Galen was trying so hard to exhibit took a backseat to a flare of annoyance at Harper’s affectionate tone. Annoyance because jealousy would indicate that his feelings toward the woman sitting across from him were something more than casual. Which is why you were checking out her ass before she sat down? Real casual.
“He’s all right.”
Harper quirked a brow at Galen’s stilted response. Sure, Landon was the closest thing he had to a brother, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pop the guy in the nose if the situation called for it. Galen’s brain conjured up an image of Landon flirting with Harper in Monroe’s office. Definitely an offense worthy of a shot to the face.
“Well, if he brings me sushi once a week, he’s more than all right in my book.” She grabbed one of the spicy tuna rolls with her chopsticks and took a bite. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “So. Good. I amend my previous statement. He officially has my undying love and devotion.”
Holy shit. He had no idea that watching a woman eat sushi could be so damned erotic. That not-jealousy burned in Galen’s gut. Food delivery services earned Harper’s devotion? Galen was here twelve hours a day, six days a week ensuring her safety and protecting her life, but Landon gets her undying love? What a crock of shit. Says the idiot who let her play him like a fiddle. For all he knew, she still had a boyfriend somewhere. Yeah, one she cheated on with you.
Harper abandoned any conversation in exchange for an intimate moment with her dinner, which was fine by Galen. He didn’t feel much like making polite conversation at this point. Why did it seem like he had to constantly remind himself that Harper was the type of woman he shouldn’t get involved with? Lying and cheating were his top two deal-breakers. But the Harper he’d spent the past few days with didn’t strike him as the kind of person to practice deceit. Could it be that his assumptions were just that?
Too late to contemplate that now. What was done was done. He was on this assignment and that meant he had to put the past behind him. Acknowledging a previous relationship with her would be career suicide, and that was something Galen couldn’t afford.
Maybe he should have stayed in Paris.
“Galen?”
He met Harper’s concerned expression, her chopsticks hovering in midair. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “I asked if you wanted the last spring roll.”
“Oh, no. Go ahead.”
“Are you okay?” Harper canted her head to the side as she examined him. “You seem a little . . .”
Broody? Pissed off? Flaky? Unprofessional? Childish?
“ . . . pensive.”
Oh, great. Pensive. The polite way of say
ing your mood is a total downer right now. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Harper poked at her spring roll with the chopsticks. Now who was pensive? “I know this can’t be the most exciting job in the world. Sorry.”
The soft side of Harper was not what he needed right now. He’d spent the past few days in a constant state of reflection, digging up the past, reminding himself why Harper was bad news, and then making up excuses as to why he should text to check up on her at eleven o’clock at night. The more he convinced himself to stay away, the closer to Harper he wanted to be. He’d never felt so conflicted, so utterly unfocused. And he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few days with someone shouldn’t have such an impact, but it did.
“I told you, this is my job. It’s not about the excitement or whether or not this is a waste of my time. Because it isn’t. You didn’t ask to be a witness to a murder, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be in the kind of danger you’re in. The upheaval in your life is real and it sucks a hell of a lot worse than the time we spend making sure you’re safe. So don’t be sorry, okay? You have nothing to be sorry for.”
The soft expression on Harper’s face caused Galen’s chest to tighten. She averted her gaze and pushed the plastic container with the spring roll toward him. “Well, if I can’t be sorry for the fact that you have to babysit me, you can take this spring roll as a token of my gratitude.”
Galen smiled as he accepted the proffered roll. “Gratitude for what?”
“For not throwing me in solitary as punishment for ditching you the other day. You have to admit, I’ve been pretty good lately.”
“True,” he conceded. “Though I’ve been warned to beware of sudden donut cravings.”
Harper nodded solemnly. “Oh, dude. When it comes to donuts, all bets are off.”
Keep it professional. This is a job and she’s a witness. The mantra was becoming harder to enforce with each new day. How could he possibly keep his distance from her when she smiled at him like that?
Chapter Twelve
“They want me to come in for another interview.”
Harper stood in the doorway, eyes wide, brow furrowed. Anxiety permeated the air around her, causing all of Galen’s five flights of self-coached detachment to take a tumble back down to the ground floor. The past week had been smooth sailing. He should have known something—or someone—would topple the balance Galen had strived to achieve. “Okay, before you get too upset, let’s sit down so you can tell me what’s going on.”
Peggy Murphy, the deputy assigned nights with Harper, was already headed out the door, her bleary-eyed zombie shuffle a pretty clear indicator that she was getting tired of sleeping on Harper’s couch. “Harper, try not to worry,” she said at the threshold. “It’s standard operating procedure. I’ll see you tonight, and you can tell me all about it, okay?”
Harper nodded, and Peggy cast Galen a knowing glance before she closed the door behind her. They were trying to keep Harper level, but even Peggy realized a second interview wasn’t a good sign. As if he weren’t even there, Harper turned and paced the confines of her condo, circling through the galley kitchen, into the dinette area, and back through the living room. She paused only long enough to snatch a mug from the counter before she continued on her track, round and round until Galen started to feel a little dizzy.
He intercepted Harper on her fifth lap and planted his hands on her shoulders as he bent down to get to eye level with her. “First things first, sit down. You’re making me motion sick.”
Harper plopped down on the couch. She seemed to be making a meal of her thumbnail, biting away as her face screwed up into something that looked a lot like pent-up anger. If she didn’t hit the release valve soon, Galen was pretty sure she’d explode.
“Since day one, that FBI agent has been up my ass. Why? I told him what happened, regurgitated everything I could remember. Now, he wants me to come in and tell it all to him again. And do you know why?” Her hazel eyes locked on Galen’s. “Because he’s trying to rattle me, that’s why. I’m not stupid. I’m aware that he thinks I’m involved in Ellis’s death. Why else would he call me in for another interview? He thinks I’ve gotten comfortable and let my guard down. And he’s going to use the opportunity to try and shake me up. He’ll lay into me, play the asshole FBI agent and try to push me into faltering, changing my story, admitting to something. Seriously, the guy is a total douche. If he thinks for even a second that I’ll—”
“I think you need to take a couple of breaths, Harper.” One more sentence without air and he was pretty sure her face would turn blue. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. Like Deputy Murphy said, follow-up interviews are standard. Especially in an investigation of this magnitude.” Galen didn’t like lies. Or lying. But softening the edge for Harper seemed like the best thing to do right now. Truth of the matter was, she had Davis spot-on. That son of a bitch was absolutely trying to shake her down. He didn’t have any leads, and so, the next best thing was to pin Ellis’s murder on the person who’d been standing next to him when it happened. “What time are you supposed to go in?”
Harper looked at Galen as though she was having trouble processing his question. Not great. She needed to be sharp as a tack to thwart Davis’s browbeating. She needed to get her head in the game. “What? Oh, he said to come in around ten.”
That gave him two hours to coach her for the interview. Totally doable. “Okay, good. I’ll go in with you and you won’t be alone with him for the interview. But I don’t think either of us will be worth a shit on an empty stomach. Go get ready to go.”
Harper frowned. “Where are we going?”
“Rumor has it you have a thing for donuts. So, I’m going to take you out for the best pastries you’ve ever eaten.”
“You said eating out was against the rules.”
Galen grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the couch. “Today, we’re going to disregard the rules. Now, hurry up. I don’t have all morning.”
What are you doing, Galen? When he’d suggested taking Harper out before her interview it had seemed like the most logical thing in the world to do. But now, as he parked in front of A Slice of Heaven, Galen was starting to doubt his own sanity.
“The paper did a write-up on this place a few weeks ago,” Harper remarked as she unbuckled her seat belt. “I’ve been meaning to drop by, but then things got a little crazy.”
“I guarantee you, you won’t find better scones anywhere in the city. Maybe even the entire state.”
Harper laughed. “Do they have apple fritters?”
Galen opened his door and Harper followed suit. “Absolutely. But they’re probably not what you’re used to.”
“A food challenge.” Harper headed for the entrance and ducked under Galen’s arm as he held the door wide for her. “I’m intrigued.”
So was he. And that was the fucking problem.
Michelle waved from behind the counter. “Hey, Galen! Sit anywhere. You guys want some coffee?” Her knowing smile as her gaze lit on Harper was enough to solidify the fact that bringing her here was, in fact, a monumentally bad idea. Why had he told his sister about Harper? Christ, Michelle had a hard time keeping her enthusiasm to a minimum when there was nothing to be excited about. He’d given her more than enough ammo to go all uber-cheerful and nudge-nudge, wink-wink with him. Great.
The bakery was busy, but not so busy that Michelle couldn’t tear herself away from manning the counter for a few minutes to hand-deliver their coffee. Damn it. She plunked two wide, white porcelain mugs in front of Harper and Galen and poured coffee from a French press into each. “So, brother, what prompted you to darken my door this morning?” She turned to Harper and gave her a way too wide and way too cheery smile. “And who’s your friend?”
You damn well know who she is. Michelle would pay for her treachery. “Harper,” Galen said as he tried to unclench his jaw. “This is my sister, Michelle. Michelle, this is Harper Allen.”
“Harper’s an
interesting name,” Michelle said as she reached out to shake Harper’s hand.
Harper settled back into her chair and cast a suspicious glance Galen’s way before responding. “My mom’s a high school English teacher. She reads a lot.”
“Harper Lee,” Michelle said with a snap of her fingers. “Cute.”
“Um, thanks.”
“So . . .” Galen caught Michelle’s eye and gave her a look that he hoped conveyed her need to make a speedy exit. “Harper has a meeting in an hour, so we’re sort of in a hurry.” Translation: Leave us alone and don’t ask her a bunch of embarrassing personal questions. “Do you have any apple fritters today?”
Michelle puffed up her chest and Galen couldn’t help but smile at the pride his sister had in her little bakery. “I took a batch out of the oven this morning. Prepare yourself for pastry bliss, Harper. No lie, my apple fritters are orgasmic.”
Harper’s amused laughter caused Galen’s chest to swell for an entirely different reason. Damn it. Detachment was a hell of a lot easier when the other person didn’t draw you to them like a magnet.
“I consider myself an apple fritter connoisseur. Hit me!”
“Oh, I like you,” Michelle said with a wink. “Next time ditch the suit”—she jutted her chin toward Galen—“and we’ll drink some coffee, eat until we pop, and I’ll dish all the dirt you want on my baby brother.”
Harper looked at Galen from the corner of her eye, and a mischievous smile curved her full lips. “I might have to take you up on that offer.”
The apple fritter was better than orgasmic. More like I’ve-died-and-gone-to-heaven good. A slice of heaven? Um, yeah it was. Never in a million years would Harper have thought her undying loyalty to Voodoo Donut would be called into question, but after eating Michelle’s masterpiece, infidelity to her beloved donut shop was more than just a possibility.
