Kip’s grip on her hand tightened. He did his best not to slam his other hand onto the table in anger for what was done to her. Instead, he took a big breath. “Harper, I am so sorry you were hurt that way.”
“Thank you.” She closed and opened her eyes. “Most of me has put that in the past. I focused on school and then my job.”
The waiter brought their drinks. Kip had ordered seltzer with a twist, and Harper ordered a glass of house sauvignon blanc. Then they ordered a selection of artisanal cheeses, salads, and Harper ordered a shrimp dish while Kip ordered a steak.
Alone again, Kip raised his glass. “To you for bailing me out this morning.”
Harper blushed. “Thank you.”
“I never would have thought to look at the bolt. That one pattern, I thought the shapes were diamonds, not cats,” he chuckled.
She giggled, then abruptly froze at the sound of familiar laughter before slowly turning her head. When her eyes trailed back to Kip, she sighed.
“What, sweetheart?” He straightened in his seat.
“The two couples at the table diagonal to ours… Mr. and Mrs. Terrance Libscomb Jr. and Mr. and Mrs. Pierre Rousselle.” Her shoulders sagged.
“Hold your head up high. They have no say in your enjoyment.” He interlaced his fingers with hers.
As they ate, Kip did his best to distract her, including sharing the story about how he received the name Pincher. “The trophy is five feet tall with a sculpture of my head on a batter’s body. Mrs. Bremen is a pip. I hope for you to meet her one day.”
At the story, Harper seemed to let go of her worries about encountering her parents. Her back to their table, she couldn’t see Mrs. Libscomb pat Rosalind Rousselle’s arm and point toward their table.Damn.Her parents appeared flustered and chose to do the polite thing once outed by their friends.
He reached out and gently lifted her chin. “Sweetheart, look at me. Say with me, ‘I’m beautiful and strong.’”
“They’re coming, aren’t they?” Her body turned rock hard.
“Yes, say the words with me: ‘I am beautiful and strong.’” Kip ran his thumb down her cheek.
“I…am beautiful…and…strong,” her voice quivered.
“Good evening, sorry to interrupt your meal. I’m Pierre, and this is Rosalind; we are Harper’s parents.”
Kip placed his napkin down and stood, extending his hand. “Kip Brennan.”
“Hello, Harper. Trying to claw your way up?” Rosalind’s eyes focused on Kip’s Breitling watch.
Harper’s eye twitched in distress. “Always charming, Mother.”
“Kip? That’s an unusual name,” Pierre said.
“Family name. Goes back generations,” Kip explained.
“What do you do, Kip?” Pierre put emphasis on Kip’s name.
“I get by.” Kip smiled.
“You do realize that dress and jewelry are for show. She’s no heiress,” Rosalind said.
Kip leaned down and kissed Harper’s cheek. “She’s richer than either one of you will ever be.”
Pierre turned smugger, if that was possible. “Who are you to judge that?”
Kip chuckled. “I’ve met quite a few people like you.” He opened his wallet and placed a gray card in Pierre’s hand. “Give this man a call. He’ll be happy to tell you who I am.”
Rosalind pulled on Pierre’s hand. “Let’s go.” Without another word, they walked away.
Kip sat and looked at Harper, expecting her to be upset. Instead, she broke into laughter. “I’ve never seen anyone take people like them down like that. First at the club, then the restaurant, and now here. Who are you, Kip Brennan?”
