Fortunately, money was no longer quite as tight as it had been.The meals Joanie cooked for her in lieu of payment were delicious, the money she’d saved from tutoring was a godsend, and her living expenses had gone down since she’d started sharing with Trent.It was a simple pleasure to walk up to an ATM and know that it was going to give her cash if she wanted it.
Her nearly dead phone rang.
“Hey, Frankie.”
“Hey, Harper.Can you do me a favor?Would you mind picking Anton up from his buddy’s and bringing him with you to the gym?It’s on your way from Trent’s place.I got a problem here I need to take care of.”
Of course it wasn’t an issue.Logistics exchanged, she hung up.
Her early morning shift over, Harper futzed around the condo.She’d already done two loads of laundry.The kitchen had been cleaned, and the freezer was now stocked with cup-size portions of pasta sauce and soup.
She grabbed her sports bag and filled it with what she needed for her self-defense lesson that evening.
An oven timer buzzed loudly.Dropping her bag on the kitchen counter, she grabbed an oven mitt out of the drawer.
Two dozen perfectly round, double-chocolate-chip cookies were sitting in the oven, waiting to be removed.
Moving them onto a rack, she decided that once they had cooled, she’d put a dozen in a plastic container and take them to the studio on the way to the gym.It was getting late, and Trent never took time to stop for something to eat on nights when he was closing the studio.Plus she’d get to see him a few hours earlier than planned.Bonus.
There was quite a line of people peering in the window of the studio when she arrived.
A big, bald man in a suit stopped her from entering.“Do you have business here today, ma’am?”
“No,” she started but the man put his hand across the door.“I mean, my boyfriend is in there and I just need to see him.”
The guy didn’t move.“I hear that excuse a million times a day,” he responded in a monotone voice.
“My boyfriend is the owner, Trent Andrews.I brought him cookies.”She realized how lame that sounded.
“So you’re his girl, huh?”he asked with a wry grin.
“I hope so,” Harper responded with a smile.“Do you know differently?”
“He was all boo-hoo, missing you in LA.Glad it worked out.”Harper smiled.She knew it was wrong, but it gave her a tiny jolt of pleasure that he’d been as screwed up as she’d been about their fight.
“Hey, Harper.He’s on the back bed,” Pixie shouted over the noise.
Harper walked over to her reception desk.“What’s with the Tyson look-alikes out there?I almost couldn’t get in here.”
Pixie frowned.“Better go ask your boy-o.Famous rock star in the house.”Pixie accentuated her comment with the poke of her pen.
Jeez, he was huge.And built.And shirtless.Okay, enough staring.Well, maybe just for another second.Trent was leaning over the guy, and she could tell from the wide-reaching spread of purple transfer lines that he was just beginning a sleeve on the other man’s lower arm.The guy in the chair might well be a rock star—although Harper would never admit she had no clue who he was—but he was wincing.Harper could totally feel for him.
Trent was in his usual position—hat on backward, gloves on, and perched on a stool.
Harper approached them nervously.The big guy’s size and presence were a little intimidating.
“I don’t bite.”Oh God.He was talking to her.
“Excuse me?”
He sucked air in between clenched teeth.“I said I don’t bite.You can come closer.”His blue eyes were sparkling as he studied her closely.
Trent looked up.“Hey, darlin’,” he said, putting the tattoo machine down and reaching for her hand.“Dred, this is my girl, Harper.Harper, this is Dred Zander from the band Preload.He’s one of the other judges I told you about.”
Wow.Not that she knew much about the kind of music that Trent listened to, but even she had heard of Preload.That certainly explained the security outside.
Dred reached out his hand and shook hers.“Nice to meet you, Harper.And a pity.For a minute, I thought you were coming over to see me.”
