“Let me help you inside? I’ll worry all night if I don’t make sure you’re fine.”
Harper takes a steadying breath, then swallows loudly. “Fine.”
Thank God. Honey jumps out of the car like a good girl. She waits patiently for Harper to climb out of the car, and I stand at his side the entire time in case he missteps. His gait is slightly lopsided as he makes his way up the perfectly straight stairs ofhis house. A keypad on the front door unlocks with a soft beep after he presses his forefinger against it. Interesting.
The inside of his house is cool and dark, all the blinds shut tight against the sunlight. I’d expected something different, bright yellows, bright happy sunshine through the house. But the place is dark, even the furniture, although clearly modern, at odds with the exterior of the small sweet farmhouse. Harper turns around at the sound of me stepping inside. His eyes flash in the dark, nostrils flaring.
“Aren’t you going to meet up with Trevor?” Harper asks, voice laced with venom.
I shrug nonchalantly. “He’s busy. I can stay, and we can hang out?”
Harper pads into the kitchen and roughly slams the cupcake box on the island. “I don’t need your pity.”
“Good, because I don’t pity you one bit,” I say sternly.
Harper stands up straight, hackles raised. “Then why would you want to stay?”
“I told you that already. We’re friends. Would you leave a friend alone after they seemed to be having a small medical emergency?”
Harper visibly deflates. “I’m not having a medical emergency. I got overheated.”
I pretend to sneeze. “Sorry, I was recently diagnosed with a severe allergy to bullshit. Want to try again?”
Harper’s mouth parts in disbelief. “That’s my line.”
“Are you going to go back to work? If not, I’d love to hang out. I moved here and spend most of my days bored out of my mind.”
“No…” Harper trails off with a frown. “I’m not working for the rest of the day.”
I grin to ease his clear trepidation about letting me stay. My gaze sweeps around the house as Harper makes a decision. Once my gaze adjusts to the darkness, I can see that it’s not asdark inside as I had initially thought. The furniture is dark blues with dark yellow and gold accents scattered throughout. Harper clearly has good taste in decorating. Either that or someone with taste helped him. But the decoration oddly has a Harper touch as it’s eclectic but also homey.
Harper wanders into the living room wearing the perpetual scowl he seems to have mostly in my presence. I don’t even know what I did to him to have him so irritated with me from the start. Can I just ask him?Hi, Harper, I think you’re fucking beautiful, why are you so annoyed with me all the time?I get the feeling asking Harper anything remotely having to do with his feelings would incur a wrath I’ve never seen before. Problem is I might enjoy his wrath.
The cushion on the back of the sofa gives slightly under Harper’s head when he tosses it back. He sits bonelessly on the sofa, all long, thin limbs. Sitting next to him, I carefully arrange myself into the least threatening presence possible. I’m larger than most people. I definitely don’t want to intimidate Harper in any way.
His eyes blink open when I jostle him on the sofa. “I know you didn’t have plans with Trevor.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
He nods tiredly. “You made it up just to give me a ride home.”
“And if that’s true?”
Harper purses his lips in thought. His fingers play with a string at the edge of a throw blanket on the chaise section of his sofa.
“Still feels a lot like pity,” Harper explains, face flushing. The blooms of red across his cheeks make me absolutely feral. I have to take a few calming breaths to keep calm.
“Not pity. You know, you’re actually doing me a favor. I moved here and most days I’m bored out of my mind. Trevor’sbusy with Beau, Eli’s in school… would you be interested in showing me around town? Helping to keep me entertained?”
It’s obvious that angle works because Harper relaxes even further into the sofa.
“Sure. Honey has to come with us though.”
“Of course.”
Harper hums and closes his eyes. Honey still has her vest on, but she visibly relaxes when Harper clearly falls asleep. Carefully to avoid waking Harper, I slowly rise from the sofa, padding quietly into the kitchen. The light under the microwave is on, adding an orange glow to the dark room. Thankfully, the cupcakes are fine in their box. I’d worried maybe they’d gotten damaged in Harper’s tight grip in the car.
I open his fridge to snoop, and find it loaded with premade meals, each clearly labeled. The freezer contains mostly ice cream, old Easter candy, and popsicles. The man has a serious sweet tooth. After my perusal of his fridge, I walk carefully down the hallway. The walls are mostly empty except for what appears to be a photo of Harper with his cousins. Harper is much younger in the photo, hair buzzed short, the scar on the side of his face less faded with time. But the grin on his lips is wide while tucked between a younger Colby, Beau, and Andy.
