by Amy Lamont
“No, Jamie, you weren’t interrupting anything.”
“Excuse me?” Declan’s voice dripped with feigned outrage. “We are so in the middle of something here.”
She waved him off with a quick flick of her fingers. “Then we needed to be interrupted before…” She waved her hand again, unwilling to fill in the blanks on that sentence.
The grin her flashed her made her sink her teeth into her bottom lip. His grin turned predatory and suddenly she wanted his lips back on hers with a desire that shocked her.
"Okay, settle down you two." Jamie passed a hand between Declan and Harper, breaking their stare down. "Someone's going to get a bucket of cold water if you two keep this up."
Harper shook her head. Jeez. She was so under his spell. He squeezed the hand he still held in his lap and grazed his thumb over her knuckles. She shivered and looked at him and smiled. Worse than being under his spell. She was quite willingly giving herself over to whatever this was between them. She had no control when it came to Declan. And other than not wanting to put on a show in the middle of the coffee shop, she was shocked to find she had no desire to control what was going on with him.
Jamie cleared her throat. Harper looked at her friend to find her rolling her eyes. Jamie reached over and stole one of Declan's fries and Harper had to hide her smile. Jamie still wasn't totally on board with the whole Declan thing. She didn't trust him and Harper knew Jamie was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But sitting here with Jamie teasing them about their PDAs and stealing one of Declan's fries made it feel like a giant step toward normal. For the first time, Harper allowed herself to feel a smidgen of hope that this relationship could work out. Maybe. Just maybe. Declan was her prize for all the bad years that came before now.
"So, your aunt called the house and left a message."
Jamie's words screeched through Harper's mind like the needle of a record player scratching across a record. Her gaze darted to Declan and back to Jamie. Her friend's wrinkled nose told her the message was not one of the loving family variety. No, the last one of those kinds of messages Harper got came before her dad died a decade ago. She definitely didn't want to share all the details of her relationship with her aunt in front of Declan.
She dealt Jamie a swift kick under the table and effected a breezy voice, "Oh, I forgot to return her calls. I'll just call her back later." She turned her head just enough that Declan couldn't see her face and bugged her eyes out at her roommate. "I'm sure it's no big deal."
Jamie's gaze darted from Harper's face to Declan and back again before she narrowed her eyes.
Shit. Jamie wasn't going to drop it. She could only imagine what her aunt must have been spewing. But she didn't need Jamie spewing it back out in front of Declan. Her eyes roamed the room looking for a way to distract Jamie from the conversation Harper knew she wanted to have. When her gaze lit on the clock over the counter in the back, she almost said a prayer of thanks.
She gave Declan's hand a tug and pointed to the clock. "Hey, aren't you going to be late for class?"
Declan checked the clock. "Shit, yeah." He jumped up and snatched up his backpack, leaning in to give Harper a quick, hard kiss on the lips. "I'll call you later, baby. Think about Friday."
"I will." She watched him stride out of the coffee shop before turning to find Jamie's eyes narrowed on her.
"So, do we want to start this conversation with a question about why you don't want me to bring up your aunt or what your plans are for Friday?" Jamie asked.
Pretty much none of the above. Shit.
Chapter 10
Harper sighed, resigned. "What did Aunt XXXX's message say?"
Jamie's lips tightened for an instant before she answered Harper. "The usual. She needs help with the rent. You owe her. Blah, blah, blah."
Harper shook her head. "I'll go over there this afternoon. Sorry she called your landline. God only knows how she got that number."
"Harper, you know I couldn't care less that your aunt calls the landline." She reached over and gave Harper's hand a squeeze. "The only thing I care about is the fact that woman has you brain washed into believing you owe her anything."
Harper shrugged. "I do owe her. I'd have been in foster care if she didn't take me in when my dad died."
"Maybe that would have been better," Jamie mumbled as the waitress arrived with her burger and fries.
"Maybe. But it could have been a whole lot worse. I had a roof over my head and food to eat. What more can I ask for?"
"How about an aunt who cares about you? A member of your family who doesn't see you as a hinderance to her love life when you're a kid and a meal ticket the minute you get your first job?" Jamie's voice rose as she went on, warming to her impassioned speech.
Harper gave an internal eye roll. Jamie meant well, she really did. She was the only person Harper could remember giving a shit about her since her dad died. But Jamie could give as many impassioned speeches as she wanted, Harper wouldn't be convinced she didn't ruin her aunt's life when she came to live with her. The least Harper could do was kick in for some rent every now and then.
And if the every now and thens seemed to be coming a little closer together these days, well, she could always take on a few more freelance gigs to throw a few extra dollars her aunt's way.
For now she just nodded as Jamie smacked her hand on the table and ended with her usual line. "You deserve so much better than that, Harper."
A soft smile tipped Harper's lips up. Jamie might get pissed that Harper didn't stand up for herself, but there was no denying it came from a good place.
"You're a good friend, James."
Jamie huffed out a breath, Harper's quiet words taking the wind out of her sails. "Don't say nice things when I'm berating you for giving into your aunt."
Harper laughed. "Is that a rule?"
"Yes. I just instituted it. No being nice and no giving your aunt money. You need that money for med school."
"Well, I'm not counting myself out of the running for the mentorship yet. And if I get it, I know I'll get a scholarship. That'll make a huge difference."
"You and Declan still working on your scheme to change Professor Costa's mind?"
"Definitely." Harper grinned. "And things are looking up."
Harper filled Jamie in on her morning and Professor Costa's request that she supervise Declan's experiment while Jamie finished her lunch.
As they gathered up there things, Jamie turned to Harper. "Want to come to the library with me? I'm going to get a few hours of studying in before my last class."
Harper turned her back to Jamie and slid her arms into her jacket, taking her time to flip her hair out from under the collar, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get Jamie all worked up again. "Um, I actually need to, um..."
Jamie's eyes narrowed on Harper. "Go see your aunt?"
Harper lifted her chin and met Jamie's stare head on. "Yes. I'm going to go see her. I know you don't agree with me helping her, but it's my business. I appreciate your concern, but enough already, James. I know how yo feel about her. You know I still feel responsible for her. Can't we just agree to disagree?"
Jamie pressed her lips together. "I don't know, Harper. I have trouble standing by while my best friend is being taken advantag of. By anyone."
Harper felt her hackles rise. "Are you talking about Declan now?"
Jamie shrugged. "I just don't want you to get hurt. And it seems awfully convenient that Professor Costa asked him to help you out. Don't you think?"
Harper blinked, not sure what to say, but then suddenly, a white hot heat blazed through her head. Through clenched teeth she said, "Enough already, Jamie. I get you don't like my choices. I would have to be pretty fucking thick not to get it. But they are my choices. I choose to return the money my aunt spent taking care of me. It's worth it to me to get out from under her thumb. And Declan," Harper snatched up her messenger bag, "and Professor Costa are not in cahoots. Maybe I should start wondering why
my best friend finds it more plausible that a student and a professor would work together to gang up on me than to think a hot guy might actually be interested in me just for me."
With the words still hanging angrily in the air, Harper turned on her black boot and stormed out the door.
"I didn't have to take you in when your father died, Harper," Aunt XXXX said.
"I know." Harper dug into her bag, searching for her checkbook. Too bad she didn't write the check before she got here. Her head was already throbbing after the confrontation she'd had with Jamie. Listening to her aunt list all the reasons Harper had to be grateful to her was not going to help that go away any time soon.
"I had my life perfectly planned out before you came along. I could have been first lady of this town."
Harper rolled her eyes as her hand closed around the checkbook. This was one of her aunt's favorite complaints. When Harper first moved in with her, her aunt had been dating a local business owner who just happened to be mayor now. Her aunt loved telling Harper how she was the reason the mayor broke up with her. He didn't want to deal with someone else's kid.
It wasn't until Harper started high school that she learned the truth. Her aunt's boyfriend didn't dump her because of Harper. He dumped her because his wife, along with half the town, found out about the affair.
Of course, Harper found out the hard way. Turned out one of her classmates, Caitlyn Capshaw, was the daughter of her aunt’s boyfriend. She’d taken out her anger about the rumors spreading around town about her family out on Harper. She reveled in telling anyone who would listen that Harper was as much of a gold digging slut as her aunt.
The first Harper knew about the vicious rumors was when she found the word slut carved into her locker and then her very first date offered her money in exchange for sex.
“Now I can’t even pay my rent. If I didn’t have George to take me out to dinner every now and then, I’d probably starve to death,” her aunt said.
George had been on her aunt’s hook ever since Harper could remember. For whatever reason, he believed himself in love with Aunt XXX. But Harper’s aunt only called him when there was nobody else around willing to keep her in the manner in which she’d like to become permanently accustomed.
Poor George. Harper snickered internally at her choice of words. He literally was poor George. Her aunt would have snapped him up in a heartbeat if he had a few more zeroes on the end of his bank account balance. But since he instead made a more modest living running the only dry cleaning business in town, Aunt XXXX only called him when one of her wealthier boyfriends wasn’t available to take her out. Which happened more often than not since most of her boyfriends were often busy with their wives and families.
Harper shook her head as she started writing out a check. If only her aunt could let go of the idea of getting her claws into bijillionaire. George would have moved her into his comfortable home with everything she needed. And God knows things probably would have been easier for Harper growing up with at least one dependable adult in the house.
She sucked back the sigh that wanted to escape her. “How short are you this month, Aunt XXX?”
Aunt XXX’s calculating gaze drifted over Harper before she flounced back into one of the ornate living room chairs. “I need about five hundred dollars.”
Harper’s pen hovered over the checkbook and she raised her eyes to look at her aunt. “Seriously? I don’t have that much extra cash.”
“Harper, I had several extra expenses this month. Do you want me to be evicted?”
Harper sighed and returned her gaze to the check she was writing. Her aunt always had extra expenses—a blouse she couldn’t pass up, dinner out at the most expensive restaurant in town, a new pair of designer shoes. Aunt XXX usually convinced her gentleman friends to pick her up a bauble or toss her some cash now and again. But really, how much could they get away with giving away before their wives got suspicious?
“I don’t want you to be evicted. But I have my own rent to pay, too.” She did some quick mental math. She’d gotten an email from a magazine she freelanced for occasionally asking her for quick turnaround on an article. She’d planned on saying no because her plate was pretty full right now. But if she took it on she could manage this month without resorting to stealing sugar and ketchup packets from the dining hall.
She blew out a breath, stirring the hair over her forehead, and wrote a check for four hundred dollars. “This is going to be it for a little while,” Harper said, as she stood and passed the check over to her aunt. “That’s all I can spare, and I’m not going to be able to take on any extra work until this semester’s over.”
“It’s not like it’s rocket science, Harper. You could do a few more freelance writing jobs if you wanted to.”
Harper bit her tongue from retorting that her aunt could get a better job, as well. Guilt leeched in even as the words rose up. Her aunt didn’t work for most of the time Harper lived with her. She’d had an inheritance that covered her expenses. But as she loved to point out, that money would have lasted her much longer if she didn’t have a second body to feed and house and clothe.
Harper kept her mouth shut and shoved her checkbook back into her bag before turning to her aunt. “I have to get back to school.”
“Fine.” Her aunt snatched up the remote and turned on the television, completely disinterested in Harper now that her money problems had been solved. Again.
As Harper walked out of her aunt’s townhouse, she had only one thing on her mind—Professor Costa’s mentorship. She’d do just about anything to get him to change his mind so she could be guaranteed a way out from under her aunt’s thumb.
As she stepped into the bright fall sunlight, she dug out a pair of sunglasses and her phone. She scrunched up her face and then huffed out a breath before sending Declan a two word text—I’m in.
Harper showed up in black pants and a white, button-down shirt, exactly as Declan instructed her. She was nervous as she entered the kitchen of the reception hall next to the campus chapel. Her last run in with Declan's fraternity brothers hadn't exactly gone well.
"Hey." Declan made his way over to her as soon as she walked through the back door.
She blew out a breath and the nerves twisting her stomach into knots eased just a little. A soft, squishy feeling replaced it as she realized the calming effect he had on her.
"Hey," she said back with a soft smile.
"Ready for this?"
She shrugged. "Ready might be too strong a word. Maybe mildly willing?"
He laughed and hugged her close. "You have nothing to worry about. Well, except maybe," he reached over to pick something off of one of the stainless steel prep tables that filled the big kitchen and shook out a black vest, "this. This sad excuse for fashion should have us all worried."
She rolled her eyes with a laugh and yanked the vest from him. "Figures you'd worry about making a fashion faux pas instead of worrying about more important things."
"More important than looking good?" His lips twisted into a sardonic smile and he smoothed a hand over his hair before striking a pose. "What would my father's fans think if they saw me in this?"
"Hmm," she tapped her lips with the tip of her finger and looked him over thoughtfully, taking in his outfit that matched her own. "Maybe they'd think it's about time the over privileged rock star's son got a real job."
He placed a hand over his chest and affected a look of horror. "Moi, get a job? And ruin this manicure?"
She burst into giggles. One thing had become clear in the last few weeks. Declan Cooper definitely did not fit the mold of the over privileged son of a rock star. He was as likely to worry about his fashion choices and the condition of his nails as a she was. Of course, his status as son of a rock star probably helped instill his easy confidence. Who he was meant there would always be people bowing and scraping for his attention, no matter what he showed up wearing.
But he didn't take advantage of that fact. At least not that
she'd seen.
And that fact alone made her like him even more.
She pulled in a deep breath. "Okay, tell me what I need to do."
Declan pulled her into the dining room where several of the pledges from Declan's fraternity waited, all wearing the same white shirt, black pants and vest. Declan quickly went over the details of the dinner service and what was required of all of them. He gave everyone a few table numbers, but when it came to Harper, he only said one number.
"How come I only have one table to take care of?" she asked once all the guys were busy setting up their tables.
"You're not really here to wait tables."
"I'm not?” She swept a hand from shoulder height down her front. "The ensemble implies otherwise."
He grinned her favorite grin. "I meant, you don't really have to do this. I gave you Professor Costa's table. He'll be sitting there with Professor Leary and Dean Steuben and a few other people from the department."
Harper widened her eyes when he listed the names and a herd of elephants started turning somersaults in her belly.
"I'm going to spill something on them." She couldn't get her voice to come out as more than a whisper.
His grin widened. "No, you won't."
"I will. Or I'll say something horrendous that will make them all flunk me in the rest of my classes."
"You'll be fine." He pulled her into a hug.
"Declan," she said into his chest, borrowing closer in an attempt to hide herself, "I can't do this."
"Please. You write textbooks. You impressed Professor XXXX. Professor Costa is already changing his mind about you. You're brilliant. I think you can manage to put a couple of plates down in front of a couple of people."
She breathed him in and let his warm and woodsy sent fill her head, calming her. She took a few more deep breaths and then pushed away from him.
