“Of course I’ll help. I’d love to. Why don’t you get your aunt to give me a call or come see me at the shop?”
“I will. I…” Drea snapped her mouth shut and pretended to be looking for something in the pile of clothes she’d brought in.
“What? Just say what’s on your mind.” Drea had always been straight with her.
“Well, I hope you know I have your back.” Harper smiled and pulled her best friend into the first hug they’d ever shared.
Harper sniffed, and stepped back. “What do you think?” she asked with a watery smile, twirling in place.
Drea wiped a tear from under her eye. “You need a smaller size, let me go get one.”
Harper let out a deep breath and pulled a tissue from her purse, grabbing her phone as it buzzed.
Anxious to see if it was Trent, she checked the screen.
Atrophied sinister voyeurism.
Harper’s mouth went dry and her heart pounded as she stared at the message. An unknown number. Harper inhaled slowly through her nose and out through her mouth. There was no reason to get in a state over what was likely a wrong number. Very few people had her pay-as-you-go Miami cell number. The letters in the text that made up Harper jumped out at her. The letters of anagrams had always fallen into place for her, like alphabetical Tetris. Nathan used to say it was freaky. The best anagrams always contained fully fleshed-out words to distract the eye and make it harder to reshuffle them into new words. She could already see words and started stringing them into sentences. Praise you in this storm. Inside the Soviet Army. A very serious person. But none of them quite used all the letters of the text. Harper shook her head and looked away from the phone. This was silly. There were so many possible combinations. How on earth could this really mean something? She looked back. Missed. It. Isn’t. Over. You. And one I left: Harper, I missed you. It isn’t over.
Drea flung the curtain back. “This is more your size.”
Harper dropped her phone back into her purse. It was a mistake, someone accidently misdialing or having autocorrect issues. Reading anything into it was crazy. She needed to stop imagining the worst.
* * *
Wow. Watching Harper walk into the club was an education.
He wasn’t really sure where to look first. From top to bottom she was one hot-looking woman. Her long dark hair had been curled into soft waves.
She’d done that smudgy thing with her eyes that chicks did, capitalizing on their natural dark green beauty. Imagining them heavy lidded while she was crawling up the bed toward him made him shake his head and reach for his beer.
She was wearing the sexiest black heels with skinny black jeans, and it took every ounce of effort to not imagine those legs wrapped around his waist. He wondered how many other pairs of spectacular shoes she had hidden in that apartment. Maybe she’d model them for him one day, in her underwear. No, naked.
He locked his gaze on her until she found him and she smiled that shy smile.
Kicking Cujo off the end of the sofa, literally, and getting a punch in the arm for his efforts, he got up and went over to her. Cupping her face with both hands, he touched her forehead with his before kissing her gently.
“Hey, baby,” he said into her ear. He wrapped his arms around her back to hug her closer.
Holy shit. Stepping back suddenly, he looked at her and grinned. Mischief sparkling in her eyes told him she’d planned this surprise just for him.
“Turn,” he mouthed. He wanted to see all of her—front and back.
Without saying a word, she spun around. The cream blouse had narrow straps, and while it had appeared fitted at the front, it flowed down into a backless creation that showed off her tattoo.
The outline of the sword was complete and the shading he’d finished to date hid the worst of her silver scars. Even though it was still unfinished, his work looked good on her.
Harper gazed over her shoulder and mouthed, “Surprise!”
Trent let out a laugh. A drunken idiot shoved his way between the two of them to get to the dance floor. He stumbled, then grabbed hold of Harper’s back to regain his balance.
The playfulness in Harper’s eyes vanished, panic replacing it.
Trent gripped the guy’s arm, and yanked him away from Harper. “You need to watch where you’re going there, friend.”
“Sorry, man,” he mumbled, stumbling away.
While it was hard to ignore the goose bumps on Harper’s arms, he figured playing the whole thing down was best for her.
Locking his arms around her, he pulled her into his chest. “You are a beautiful woman, Harper Connelly.” He lowered his lips down to the side of her neck, nipping her gently. “Want to leave right now and go to my place?” he asked, nuzzling his way down her shoulder.
“Not on your life,” Harper shouted over the loud music. “You promised me normal, and drinking and dancing is normal.” Her voice sounded confident, but Trent wasn’t fooled as she used her arms to pull him even tighter up against her back.
Cujo greeted them as they walked over to the table. He raised an eyebrow in Trent’s direction. “Hey, Harper. Looking good!”
“Thanks, Cujo.”
Cujo scooted over, making room for Harper to sit down on the couch.
He loved watching Harper with his friends. She had spent the last however many years fading into the background, but her confidence was returning, and given the new outfit, it appeared she was beginning to recognize the change herself.
As much as he tried, he couldn’t keep away from her. It was strange. Trent wasn’t a huge PDA guy. Sure, the odd make out here and there, but this touchy-feely stuff was all new. He’d just never had the urge.
The DJ changed the tempo from heavy dance beats to sexy, slower tunes. Leaning down, he kissed Harper behind her ear. “You wanted to dance?”
She looked surprised. “Let me guess … you’re an amazing dancer.”
“That I am, Harper.” He took her hand, guiding her to the dance floor, and pulled her close.
Despite everyone’s best efforts to get him loaded, Trent had stayed clear of alcohol most of the night just so he could have the privilege of driving Harper home. And right now, he was grateful to be fully aware of the sensations Harper’s warm body was creating as she moved against him.
She was a natural dancer. All grace and rhythm as she swayed against him. He wondered how many more secrets she had. If he were a lucky man, he’d spend the next sixty years uncovering them all. Yeah, it was definitely time to man up to the fact he was falling for her. Hard.
* * *
A cool breeze blew into the car through the open windows as Trent drove her home. It was a blessed relief from the stifling heat of the nightclub, or bar, or whatever it was supposed to be.
Leaning her head back against the headrest, Harper closed her eyes and focused on listening to Trent humming along to classic rock on the radio.
Who knew that the guy had moves on the dance floor? Maybe he really was amazing at everything.
The night sky was inky black, illuminated by a low moon and a smattering of stars. There was a hot guy behind the wheel of this equally hot car, driving her home while he gently held her hand in his strong one.
Funny how she’d had to come all the way to Miami to find this. How different would her life have been if the attack hadn’t happened? Four years later and she was starting to wonder if she wasn’t exactly where she was supposed to be.
“What are you thinking about?” Trent broke through her reverie. “I can hear those cogs turning all the way over here.” He glanced at her and smiled.
“I was thinking it’s funny how life turns out.”
“In what way, darlin’?”
“I was just thinking about everything that led up to me sitting here in this amazing car with an even more amazing guy.” He grinned at that. “I mean how crazy the twists and turns of my life have been to get me to Miami. What I’ve had to go through. A different bus and I could have ended u
p on the West Coast. And yet, here I am.”
“I believe there’s a bigger plan for all of us. I guess the universe conspires to give us what we need, not what we want.”
Her insides turned to jelly as Trent lifted her hand and gently kissed her knuckles.
Moments later, he turned onto Harper’s quiet street and parked outside her building. It was well after one in the morning, but Harper felt energized instead of tired.
“I guess this is my stop,” she said.
“I guess so.” Trent turned the car off, thrusting them into silence.
Harper unclicked her seat belt.
Trent hadn’t moved, still sitting slightly toward her with his seat belt on. In a moment of bravery, Harper slid across the bench seat and unclicked it. A smile spread across Trent’s face, and damn if the dimples didn’t do it to her every time.
Harper embraced her confidence, straddled his lap, and placed her hands on either side of his face. Trent’s fingers trailed down her back, settling on her ass. He pulled her tightly toward him.
Letting out a quick gasp, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his.
“No running?” Trent pleaded against her lips.
“No running,” Harper promised.
With a groan of relief, Trent devoured her. He turned almost feral, kissing, licking, and sucking her lips.
Spikes of arousal shot through her, igniting feelings deep within her core. She shuddered as Trent drew her tight against him.
“Mmm … Harper, the things you do to me.” His hands slid over her bare skin, spanning the width of her lower back. Harper shivered as his lips blazed a trail down the side of her neck and back again, coming to rest by her ear.
“This okay?” he whispered against her, his concerned tone melting her.
Pulling back, she looked into his heavy-lidded dark eyes. “Better than okay.” She groaned as one of his hands ran up the inside of her blouse and stroked the underside of her breast.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he growled, pulling her back to his mouth. His tongue probed deeper, swirling inside her mouth. His taste was intoxicating. Every stroke created a deep pull on her clit. If he ground against her any harder, she was going to come.
“Oh God, Trent, please,” she moaned as his fingertips rubbed across her nipple, squeezing gently.
“Please what, baby?” he breathed against her lips.
“More … please.”
“Like this?” he asked, gripping her hips with both his hands and pulling her down hard against him.
“Oh yes … oh it’s … I…” The explosion started deep inside and moved through every part of her. Ripple after ripple of golden waves made her shiver.
Coming down, Harper was vaguely aware of Trent holding her against him, gently rubbing his hands up and down her back, soothing her as she tried to collect her breath.
Her eyes were starting to feel heavy when another vehicle turned into the street, its bright headlights a startling reminder that they were still in Trent’s car. Not only were they in the car, but Trent was still rock hard underneath her.
“You’re beautiful when you come, Harper. I’m honored you let me see that.”
Burying her head farther into the crook of Trent’s neck, Harper was momentarily speechless. Not knowing what to do, she went to slide off him.
His arm reached out and pulled her back. “Hey, where are you off to?”
Harper looked down and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, embarrassment washing over her.
“Hey, look at me, Harper.” He waited this time until she lifted her eyes to his. “This was an amazing step in the right direction, wasn’t it?” He took both of her hands in his, bringing them to his lips as he kissed her knuckles.
“But what about you?” Harper asked quietly.
“What about me?” Trent looked genuinely confused.
“You didn’t … you know…” Relief flooded his features as he laughed.
“You can use the words, Harper. I didn’t get off, is that what you mean?”
Lord, could this get any more embarrassing?
“I’m fine. This won’t be the first case of blue balls I’ve ever had, and sadly it is unlikely to be the last.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back toward his chest. Harper couldn’t resist leaning into his hand as it reached up to stroke her hair.
“You.” He kissed her forehead. “Are one.” Her nose. “Stunningly.” One cheek. “Sexy.” The other. “Woman.” His lips brushed hers in a warm, loving kiss.
“Now, get out of my car and get into your apartment before I decide to carry you in there and have my wicked way with you.”
Leaning forward, she stole one last kiss of her own.
“’Night, Trent.”
She waved as she reached the door. Maybe she wasn’t just running from anything anymore. There had been a monumental shift. Maybe now she was running to something.
Chapter Twelve
The bass was so loud that Trent could feel it vibrating through his chest before they even entered the building.
How Cujo had gotten them tickets to the hottest up-and-coming metal band at the eleventh hour was anybody’s guess, but Trent wasn’t complaining. Cujo had a little book of people who knew people that he constantly leveraged.
The venue, an old, run-down warehouse in one of Miami’s rougher neighborhoods, was well known for hosting heavy metal and rock concerts. True music lovers flocked there to see their favorite bands, and it was rare for it to not sell out.
They went straight to the front instead of getting in line. It paid to have grown up in Miami. Trent had gone to school with one of the guys working the door and had taken care of his ink.
With a quick handshake they were in. Upstairs was a balcony overlooking the stage, where they could stay out of the surging bodies and rogue crowd surfers. At one time, he’d have been the first guy off the stage but at thirty-two, he was getting too old for that shit.
Hitting up the bar, they grabbed beers and headed over to the edge to watch the band. Five English guys in their early twenties were making the metal rounds with phenomenal reviews. To be that young and have the world at your feet had to be pretty awesome.
The sound was freakin’ insane. The singer’s voice was a total contradiction—borderline angelic on the harmony with every note crystal clear and brutally raw as he screamed through the chorus.
It was too loud to really hold much of a conversation. Given how packed it was, he was kind of relieved that Harper hadn’t come with them, for her sake. Not that he didn’t want her by his side, he’d not seen her for two days and it was making him twitchy, but protecting her in this kind of craziness would have been out of even his control.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket.
Hey. I’m home. Make it okay?
One beer in, crazy show. How was your day?
Shitty but I’ll live. Bath then bed.
Naked???
First—definitely, second—maybe
Now there’s a thought! Night, baby.
“Everything okay?” Cujo shouted in his ear.
Trent leaned toward him. “Yeah, Harper’s just getting home from work.”
“I have one word for you, my friend. Whipped.” Cujo laughed, taking a swig of his beer.
“Starting to think it ain’t so bad, brother.” Trent shook his head, more at himself than anything.
“Really? You’ve known her what? A month?” Cujo’s brows were furrowed, like he was unable to compute what he was hearing. “And I bet she hasn’t even put out yet, seeing how you’ve been a cranky bastard.”
“So? What’s a month? And come on, dude. This is Harper we’re talking about. You saw her back. You think she’s just going to roll over and get to it after that? Didn’t realize I had to report which bases I cleared to you, Cuj.” They hadn’t fought physically since they were fourteen, but Trent had a feeling tonight might change that if Cujo kept up with this line of questioning
.
“We always talk about this shit.” Cujo had the gall to look offended.
“We don’t do this talking thing.”
“Yeah we do. You just don’t want to do it about Harper.” Cujo reached for his beer, downing the last of it. “Normally you give me some crass-ass response and you would definitely have asked me if I got lucky with those twins from last night by now.”
Trent’s easy retort stuck in his throat as he considered Cujo’s comment. That wasn’t it, was it? The idea of sharing what was happening between them, what had happened in the car, just felt wrong. It seemed almost sacrilegious to compare notes with Cujo over something so perfect.
“I just don’t get why you’d want to be with just one person. You’re a fucking legend. And with the show, you’re going to get access to all kinds of high-end ass. Don’t shut down your options, man.”
“Keep your opinions to yourself, dude. At the risk of sounding like a girl, I really like her. And it’s killing me that not only do you not get that but you are actually encouraging me to play around.” Trent slammed his beer on the ledge of the balcony.
Cujo put his arm out to stop Trent from leaving. “Explain it to me then.” He sounded sincere. Contrite even. “What’s the big deal? You’ve done a complete fucking one-eighty over this girl. It isn’t like you.”
“I can’t explain it. If I’m ever going to settle down, I want what my mom and dad have. I thought I had that once, but after Yasmin I swore I’d never let a girl get to me like that again. But now … I don’t know. Harper’s different.”
Trent took a sip of his beer. Thinking about his ex used to cause a burning in his gut. They’d been together nearly two years. And while things hadn’t been perfect and money had been tight, he’d though they’d been happy. Until the afternoon he’d gotten off early and rushed back to their building to tell her about the hundred-dollar tip he’d gotten.
The suitcases in the hall should have been his first clue.
Somewhere between “What the fuck are you doing home?” and “I’m outta here,” Yasmin had laid out clearly just how little she thought of him and their life. The apartment was too small. (It was all he could afford.) He was going nowhere. (He was just starting out—and building up a solid client base took time.) He had no “options.” (Being a tattoo artist was what he truly wanted to do.) He didn’t buy her enough gifts. (Well, someone needed to pay the gas bill.)
The Strongest Steel Page 14
