Harper
I’m nervous, like, big-time nerves, approaching stage-fright levels as I wait on the front step of the brick rowhouse where Garrett grew up. Hard to believe six boys lived in this small house, especially if they’re as big as he is. I can only imagine the teen years with all that testosterone—sweat, loud voices, eating everything in sight. I’m picturing his mom as an exhausted aged woman, so when the door pops open to a beautiful woman in her fifties with dark brown shoulder-length hair, bright blue eyes, and smooth fair skin, wearing a pale pink sweater and snug black trousers with black boots, you can color me shocked. She looks like she could be in a commercial for anti-wrinkle cream. I want all her beauty secrets. Dead serious.
“Hello, welcome!” she exclaims, stepping back to let us in. “So glad you could all make it for Olivia’s special day.” She says “Olivia” extra loud. That’s Dylan’s little girl. I memorized his family’s names on the way over. Music plays in the background, something cheerful about a dolphin. Kid music?
I step inside, where an adorable toddler wearing a silver glitter tiara and a pink leotard with a matching tutu is twirling in the living room. She beams at her grandmother, spots us, and runs to grab an older man’s pants leg. It has to be Garrett’s dad; the resemblance is striking, though Garrett is thick with muscle. They have the same aquamarine eyes, sharp cheekbones, and square jaw.
Garrett makes the introductions. Mr. and Mrs. Rourke greet me warmly, as well as Joe. I brought my guard for my own peace of mind. I didn’t want anyone following me here or showing up uninvited to their home. Garrett told me his parents wouldn’t blink an eye about Joe since palace guards are the norm. His dad grew up with them.
“Dylan will stop by a little later in time for cake,” Mrs. Rourke says. “Ariana is in the hospital with the twins for another day. So today is for the big sister.”
Garrett gestures for me to follow, a present for Olivia tucked under one arm. He crouches in front of her, where she’s still clutching her grandfather’s leg. “Happy big-sister day, Olivia! This is my friend Harper.” He sets the large present on the floor in front of her.
I bend down to her level. “Hi! You must be so excited to be a big sister.”
She nods and stares at the present with its wrapping paper of brightly colored balloons.
Garrett gestures to it. “This is from me and Harper. Go ahead and open it.”
She pulls at the paper, and a tiny piece comes off. Another rip for another tiny piece. This could take a while.
Garrett gets to his feet, and I join him.
Mr. Rourke remains standing behind Olivia, who’s industriously unwrapping her gift, piece by tiny piece. “Dylan wants to talk to you later about the crew chief position.”
“Whatta ya mean?” Garrett asks. “That’s Jack’s job.”
“Jack’s decided to stay home with the new baby for a couple of years while Riley works full time.”
Garrett’s eyes widen. “Seriously? And Dylan wants me to be crew chief?”
“Of course.”
“But what about when Jack comes back?”
Mr. Rourke smiles. “If things keep going the way they are now, the business has room for you all to grow with it.”
Garrett’s brows furrow, looking deep in thought. I can read him now. It’s the promotion he’s always wanted, but he’s also got this acting gig he’s hoping will take off, which means he’d be leaving his family’s business just when they need him most. He told me Jack’s wife is due with the baby soon.
He exhales sharply and looks down at Olivia. “Want some help?”
She shakes her head, her tiara tipping forward. She pushes it out of her eyes and uses both hands to secure it on top of her head. Her hair is dark brown and wavy. I never had my hair down as a kid. General Joan felt my crazy curls needed to be tidy and secured at all times. Ponytail or braids.
“How old is she?” I ask.
“Twenty months,” Mr. Rourke says. “My wife and I enjoy watching you on Living Gold. Actually, she was a big fan before that with Capital Asset.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Garrett has trained me well on receiving compliments properly. Ha.
We all glance down at Olivia. She’s got the wrapping paper off and is struggling to pull the cardboard away from her gift—a sports ball set with a foam soccer ball, basketball, and football.
“Open, please,” she says, looking up at us adults.
Mr. Rourke picks up the box. “The packaging is tough to open. Let me get scissors and work on it.”
Just then the front door opens to a handsome man in a black leather jacket and jeans. “Where’s my girl?”
“Daddy!” Olivia shrieks and runs full speed to him. That must be Dylan.
My eyes sting at the reunion. He scoops her up and hugs her. She rests her head on his shoulder, holding him tight, her little face ecstatic. He tosses her in the air, catches her, and kisses her cheek. “I missed you the past couple of nights, pumpkin. Did you have fun with Grandmom and Grandpop?”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “And Nonna and Nonno too.”
“Wow, the whole gang got together just for you.” He hoists her onto his hip. “You must be one special kid.” He lifts a hand in greeting to Garrett and walks over to give him a slap on the back.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m a big sister. I help Maya and Eva.” She crinkles her nose and sing-songs, “They’re just babies.” She speaks really well for a toddler. For some reason I thought kids didn’t speak full sentences until at least two. Not that I have experience with little kids.
“They’re so lucky to have you.” Her dad sets her down, and she runs into the kitchen, where Mr. Rourke is struggling with the plastic ties holding the sports ball set together.
He thrusts his hand out to me. “Hey, I’m Dylan.”
“Harper,” I say, shaking his hand. “I recognize you from your Villroy wedding pictures. That was a major event.”
He grins, his blue eyes sparkling. “Sure was. I’m the crown prince, until I wasn’t. Anyway, we had a good reunion out there. And Josie tells me she loves working with you on Living Gold. Fun show.”
“Thank you.” I cross my fingers and hold them up. “Let’s just hope enough people feel the same way.” The ratings haven’t been great, but, according to my agent, many viewers of our channel prefer to binge-watch when the whole season is out. “I’ll know the first week of November if the show gets a second season.”
Garrett’s brows draw together. “Knock wood it does, but do you know what you’ll do if it doesn’t? Would you stay in the area?”
Dylan excuses himself and joins his daughter in the kitchen, giving his dad a shoulder squeeze before moving to the sink to prepare a sippy cup of water for his daughter. What a great dad. How different would my life have been if I had two loving parents like Olivia? Garrett had that too. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt the need to escape into a character, or to travel so far away at a young age. I shake it off. I’m happy with my work. And my childhood gave me the drive to get where I am today. It’s for the best.
Garrett takes my hand and leads me to a plush dark blue sofa. “Harp?”
I cross my legs and turn to him. “Yes?”
“You never answered my question. Would you stay in the area if Living Gold isn’t picked up?”
“If there was work for me, yes. I hope something will work out with directing, but I don’t know. I have to go where the work is. Well, you know from Josie.”
“True. I house-sit for her enough.” He squeezes my hand. “I hope we’ll keep in touch if we have to be separated.”
My chest tightens. He’s just so expressive. I don’t even know what to say. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Rourke opens a door in the kitchen. “Get up here, everyone!” She looks over at me. “Has anyone offered you a drink?”
Garrett leaps up. “Got it.”
I follow him into the kitchen. People pour out of the basement, crowding the kitchen as they gather around
the island. What were they doing down there? I didn’t hear anything. Of course, the children’s music is loud, and I was distracted by the people I did meet.
Garrett works his way around the room, introducing me to his brothers and their wives, but there’s one woman who needs no introduction.
“One of us, one of us,” Josie chants, her blue eyes dancing before she throws her arms around me. “What’s it been, two whole days since we’ve seen each other? What’s new?”
I laugh. “Not much. We saw Wicked yesterday, and now here I am.”
“Oh, I love Wicked. But my dream role is Dolly in Hello, Dolly. What’s your dream Broadway role?”
“Elphaba in Wicked, but I don’t have the pipes.”
She tilts her head. “Really? I always pictured you as Marian the librarian in The Music Man.” She turns to Garrett. “She has that sweet quality about her. Marian goes from uptight librarian all the way to a trusting happier woman.”
“Why? Because I love books?” I ask.
Josie’s eyes dance with amusement. “Mmm-hmm.”
I fill in the blank. “Because I’m uptight and distrustful. Gee, thanks.”
Garrett points at Josie. “Nailed it.” He puts an arm around my waist. “You should try for that part.”
I press my lips in a flat line. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Seriously,” he says.
I turn to him, fighting to rein in my temper. “You don’t just decide to take the part. It has to be in a current run, it has to work with my schedule, and they have to agree I can pull it off.” And I am not uptight and distrustful. Definitely not uptight, and I’m trying really hard not to be distrustful. Don’t you know how vulnerable I’ve let myself be with you?
His brows draw together. I keep forgetting how in tune he is to me.
“Make it happen,” Josie says. “If you want it, that is. I just pictured you that way. So…” She grimaces. “Living Gold is looking dicey. I thought it was so good, but maybe it’s not striking the right note with the audience. Ratings are declining week by week.”
My gut does a slow roll, but I put on a positive face. “My agent says just wait and see if it builds. Binge-watching could save it.”
“I’m looking over some scripts Claire sent my way,” she says.
“Cool.” I didn’t get any scripts.
She immediately senses my discomfort. “She’s like a mentor to me. Hey, I could be your mentor. Would you like that?”
How can I say no? Just because I’m older and have worked longer. She’s had decent-sized roles in two movies, and I’ve only had bit parts. Maybe she should be my mentor. “Sure.”
She squeezes my arm. “Oh, that sounded like I’m full of myself, didn’t it?” She gestures for Garrett to back off and throws her arm around my shoulders. “Just know I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”
“Absolutely, thanks.” My knee gives out suddenly, and I gasp. A soccer ball just hit the back of my knee.
Olivia zips by, following it, kicking it around the kitchen.
“Take it outside, young lady,” Mr. Rourke barks. “Who wants to play soccer with Olivia?”
All the guys follow her out the door. Wow. A whole soccer team of manly men following a toddler around the backyard.
“It’s a perfect fall day,” Mrs. Rourke says. “Let’s sit outside on the deck. I’ll get the veggies.”
Once I’m settled on the back deck with the ladies, I actually enjoy myself, chatting and eating veggies dipped in ranch sauce. It’s me, Mrs. Rourke, Josie, and the wives. Becca and Riley are both pregnant and chatting about that. Riley’s due at the end of the month. Becca’s not even showing yet. She’s tall and thin, so I guess the baby has room to stretch out in there at this point.
We chat and watch as seven grown men, including Joe, follow a toddler around with a foam soccer ball, cheering when she kicks it toward a small net someone found in the storage area. She’s winning.
The neighbors stop by, the Bianchis, who it turns out are the grandparents of Olivia. Dylan married the girl next door. I’m so curious to meet his wife. Her mom is brassy and outspoken, her face dominated by dark brown bangs and large glasses. Her dad is quiet and smiles a lot.
Mrs. Rourke introduces me to them.
“The superstar actress,” Mrs. Bianchi says. “Two in the family now. Next thing you’ll all be moving to Hollywood.”
“I’m not a superstar,” I say, secretly thrilled she thinks so. Hollywood hasn’t granted me that status.
“Course you are,” she says. “I’ve seen you on two popular TV shows. Now can you help me carry in the manicotti?” She’s balancing two covered trays.
“Sure,” I say, surprised she asked me since we just met. Her husband carries in a covered pitcher of clear water with fruit slices floating in it.
I follow her inside the house.
She speaks over her shoulder to me. “I brought the healthy water. Gotta sneak in some extra vitamins for all the pregnant women here. My daughter says the twins are her last, but there’s no shortage of grandbabies for me to spoil now that the younger Rourke sons are settling down. We’re all family here.”
“That’s really nice.”
I set the still-warm tray on the island.
She gathers up some plastic plates and starts serving with a large spatula. “So is it serious with you and Garrett?”
I nearly choke on my spit. This is the kind of thing I expected to hear from Garrett’s mother not his neighbor. “I don’t know.” Where is Garrett?
“Mmm-hmm. How long have ya been dating?”
I glance toward the back door, willing Garrett to notice I’m getting the third degree from his neighbor. “Uh, we met a month ago, but I guess you could say we’ve been officially dating for…” I trail off, unsure how to say we had “friend” dates that, in hindsight, were real dates minus the hooking-up part.
She pins me with a knowing look. “I’m up to speed on modern dating. My own daughter lived in sin before Dylan made an honest woman of her. It worked out, so who’s to say it’s wrong? Unless you ask Father Richards.” She expertly scoops up a large helping of manicotti and sets it on a plate. “Now Josie, she moves around a lot for work. Have you talked about what that will mean for you and Garrett?”
I gulp. Is she going to share all this with Mrs. Rourke? “Uh, he says he hopes we’ll stay in touch.”
She smiles. “He’s a sweetheart. You know that, right?” She waits for my nod before continuing. “He always was, even though he tries to cover it up with his big muscles and tough expression. He’s the only one who texts his mother regularly, keeping her up to date. We knew the moment he met you.”
My cheeks warm. “Oh. That’s nice.” I can’t believe he told his mother about meeting me! So sweet.
She points her spatula at me. “If you’re not serious, you should cut him loose. He’s looking to settle down like his brothers. Twenty-six is plenty old to settle down. How old are you?” She lifts her head, her dark brown eyes shining with bright curiosity through her glasses.
“Twenty-eight,” I reply automatically, though I don’t like to share my age. It can be limiting for an actress.
“Are you hoping to have kids?”
I glance toward the back door. Garrett!!! SOS! “I don’t know,” I mumble.
“Don’t wait too long. Ariana didn’t get started until thirty-one. Now she was smart, using those new ovulation tests and timing everything just right. Course it helps the Rourke men are virile.”
I almost blurt that I’m on the pill when I realize it’s none of her business. Why is this woman interrogating me? Mayday! I’m bailing any minute now.
Mrs. Rourke rushes in. “I’m here to help.”
I let out a breath. The rest of the family files in after her. My interrogation is over, thank goodness. I help hand out the plates of manicotti, and people start heading to the dining room table. I follow last with Mrs. Rourke.
“Do you like modern art?” she a
sks me, gesturing toward a painting on the wall. It’s really ugly—purple and red scribbles with a bright yellow splotch of paint in the middle. “Garrett gave it to us.”
Garrett calls over from the table, “It was a birthday gift Jack gave to Con, who left it at my place. I’m not into modern art.”
“It’s unusual,” I say diplomatically.
Mrs. Rourke smiles, admiring it. “A famous artist made it. Who knows, one day it could be worth something.”
Mrs. Bianchi comes up behind us, peering at the painting. “Frankly, I don’t see the appeal. I wouldn’t pay a dime for it.”
Mrs. Rourke purses her lips and continues on to the dining room table.
I join them. Everyone’s talking and laughing, except Jack, who looks sullen and keeps shooting glances at the painting. He was the original owner of the painting, buying it for Con. After I finish my manicotti, curiosity gets the better of me.
“Jack, did you want the painting back?” I ask. “You gifted it to someone, and then it was regifted, so maybe you were hoping…”
He scowls, brushing his tousled dark hair back. “I’m not hoping.”
“Who’s the artist again, honey?” Riley asks. His pregnant wife’s eyes narrow, almost daring him to say. There’s a definite tension in the air.
“You wouldn’t know him,” he mumbles.
“I’d like to hear,” Mrs. Rourke says. “Garrett didn’t know. Who is it, Jack?”
“I could look him up,” Mr. Rourke says. “Maybe we should donate it to a museum.”
Mr. and Mrs. Rourke walk over to the art on the living room wall, tilting their head this way and that.
“It’s not signed,” Mr. Rourke says. “Maybe it’s on the back.” He goes to lift the painting off the wall when Jack stops him, rushing over.
“Don’t touch it!”
“What’s the matter?” Mr. Rourke asks.
“Do ya think it’ll affect the value?” Mrs. Rourke asks.
Mrs. Bianchi joins them, shaking her head. “I don’t think anything could make it less valuable. This looks like someone spilled paint on it from a better piece they were working on. Either that or a toddler did it. No offense, Olivia.”
Rogue Beast (The Rourkes, Book 12) Page 17
