Singled Out

Chapter 14

Iawoke sitting up on the sectional in my living room, my feet on the coffee table, my body sweating, and my dick hard.

As I blinked awake, I took a few seconds to get my bearings. The sun had set. It was still Sunday evening, just after nine according to my phone. I’d been grading quizzes after putting Danny to bed. I’d dozed off and had one hell of a hot dream featuring the sexy troublemaker who’d kissed me this morning. In my dream, she’d done a lot more than kiss me.

“Fuck,” I said out loud as my blood pumped south.

I refused to give in to the urge to finish myself off to thoughts of my boss’s daughter. I wasn’t some eighteen-year-old who needed to rub one out just because of a forbidden dream. Instead I got up and headed toward Danny’s room to check on him, a surefire way to cool my jets.

On the way through the kitchen, I started counting backward from one hundred by threes to get my mind off the discomfort in my sweatpants.

I opened Danny’s door enough to see inside. He was asleep, so I snuck to the side of his crib to watch him for a few deep, peaceful breaths. As I’d hoped, my love for my son took over, and my body chilled the hell out. I reached out, wanting to run my fingers over this amazing little guy’s cheek but stopping myself so I wouldn’t disturb him.

I watched his chest rise and fall a few more times the way I’d obsessively done when he’d first come into my care. The never-ending anxiety that something bad could happen to him was like an old bathrobe by now. Familiar but ugly.

Content that he was sleeping soundly, I crept back out of his room, relieved my erection was gone. I returned to the pile of math quizzes on the coffee table and dug into the last two of the night, hoping equations would keep my mind off Harper.

When I finished, I put the graded quizzes in my work bag, and thoughts of the brunette with the brown eyes returned in full force. I wondered what she was doing. Back in the studio creating jewelry? Or was she in the house with Naomi’s unpredictable brother?

I didn’t like the second possibility. She might trust him, but what if her instincts were wrong? I didn’t know her well enough to have a gauge of that yet.

I picked up my phone to check on her. That was all.

Is your housemate leaving you alone?

I typed in the words but didn’t press Send. We weren’t this familiar, were we? I didn’t want to be a text buddy. Couldn’t really afford to open that door.

I couldn’t handle not reassuring myself she was okay with her unstable roommate though.

I pushed Send.

After thirty seconds, bubbles showed she was typing. I didn’t allow myself to think how relieved I was.

An eternity passed before a message appeared, making me wonder if she’d rethought replying.

He’s beat on my door three times. Don’t worry, it’s locked, plus I moved my dresser against it.

I straightened and was on the verge of calling her when the next message came through: a winking emoji and a laughing emoji.

I should’ve guessed. Sagging into the cushion, I shook my head, eventually getting to the point where I could smile. As always, Harper was trouble walking.

Why couldn’t I seem to leave trouble alone?

I was still trying to come up with a reply when she sent another message.

Max? I was teasing. I’m fine.

Before I could answer that, she sent a photo of herself, which revved my pulse right back up.

She was waving and smiling, an open-mouthed, smart-aleck grin. Her dark hair was down except for a braid on each side of her part that went from her forehead to the back. Her eyes shone with mischief and a sparkly shade of lavender shadow. Her lips were glossed in a muted tone, her cheeks pink with a natural flush, and she wore a necklace with a light-purple, oval stone and earrings that coordinated, all of them set in silver. I was sure she’d made the pieces herself.

I couldn’t see more, couldn’t tell where she was beyond outside. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care, but I couldn’t pull it off.

No doubt she was trying to throw me off, as she liked to do.

I sat there shaking my head, grinning like that eighteen-year-old boy I wasn’t, weighing my options, halfheartedly attempting to talk myself out of giving it right back to her.

I lost the battle and typed in one word.

Hot.

She didn’t immediately reply, so I hoped I’d thrown her off.

When a full minute or two passed and she still hadn’t said anything, my confidence slipped. Had I misread her?

Maybe she was driving and couldn’t answer.

Or maybe my text flirting game was outdated and lame.

I stopped waiting for a reply, busying myself by prepping my bag for work tomorrow. I went to the kitchen to make my lunch as I always did before bed, but before I could pull out ingredients for a chicken wrap, there was a quiet knock at the front door.

My adrenaline started pumping at the thought it might be Harper. It was after nine p.m. on a Sunday. Who else would be at my door, particularly after our back-and-forth? Still, when I looked out the peephole and saw her standing on my doorstep, there was a punch to my chest that took the wind out of me and made my mouth go dry.

I opened the door and tried to look puzzled instead of really fucking happy to see her.

“Hi,” she said a little shyly. “Is Danny asleep?”

“He is.”

She relaxed a degree. “Do you mind if I come in?”

In response, I opened the door wider and stepped back. I was running possible comments through my mind, smart-ass ones, flirtatious ones, but I held them in, because suddenly the stakes were a lot higher with her staring up at me in the flesh.

“Am I interrupting anything?” she asked as she glanced around.

“Just an ill-advised flirtation via text messages with this hot girl I know.”

Her shoulders relaxed even more, and her smile widened, became more natural.

“What brings you by?” I asked. We weren’t on booty call level, though if she kissed me right now, I didn’t think I could resist the temptation.

“I just wanted to talk,” she said quickly, shutting down my line of thinking in a heartbeat.

Well, mostly. Because the parts of her that hadn’t shown in the photo were just as alluring as that pic she’d sent over.

Her legs were showcased by a short lavender skirt with silver buttons down the front. On the top, she wore a white, thin-strapped tank that contoured to her curves and bared a two-inch strip of skin at her waist. On her feet were minimalist sandals with wedge heels, making her legs about two miles longer.

“Talk,” I parroted as I reined in my thoughts. “We can talk. Inside? Or we could sit on the deck.”

“The deck’s good. It’s cooled down a lot.”

I flipped the living room and kitchen lights off except for one under-cabinet one to avoid attracting bugs and went to the thermostat and flipped the AC off. Then we went out the back. I left the slider open, closing only the screen, so if Danny needed me, I could hear.

“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the outdoor sectional that faced a fireplace. It was cooler than the daytime but not nearly enough for a fire.

Harper leaned down and removed her shoes, then sat in the corner of the sectional and pulled her legs up under her, her knees to the side. “This is amazing,” she said, sinking into the lush cushions. “It’s more comfortable than any furniture I own. Which isn’t a lot actually. That’ll have to change soon. Dakota and I are signing a lease.”

“Mrs. Karasinski’s place?” I asked as I sat at a right angle to her, keeping a few inches between us despite my desire to slide up against her.

“Yes. In spite of it looking just like the inside of her shop.” Her eyes widened meaningfully.

“There’s a lot of stuff in her shop if I remember right.”

“You do. I can’t wait to see the apartment once the crap is all gone. The bedrooms each have a window seat looking out on the square. There’s a deep, claw-foot tub that looks unused, and the back deck has a view of the woods.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Congratulations. You can’t beat the location. How soon can you move in?”

“A couple of weeks. They have to empty it, and then we’re getting new floors and paint.”

“The sooner you’re out of Naomi’s?—”

“Ian’s fine. Stop worrying. So when we were looking at the apartment, the agent was also showing the shop downstairs to a potential business owner.”

“Anything good going in?”

“Well, maybe. Do you know Cambria Clarke?”

“I had her in an advanced class years ago.”

“She graduated the same year as me,” Harper said. “She’s thinking of opening a shop to sell her candles.”

My brows shot up. “I haven’t been inside that store for a long time, but that’d be a lot of candles, wouldn’t it?”

She laughed and nodded. “A shit ton of candles. So she’s rethinking her business plan, possibly broadening her focus.” Harper paused and inhaled deeply. “I said I might be open to her selling my jewelry.”

“Hell yes. That’s great, Harper. I think it’ll sell easily.”

She had a pensive expression, as if she was going to say more. She bit her lip, then said, “She asked us whether we’d ever thought about going into business.”

“Like owning the shop with her?”

“I guess so. A partnership. I said signing a lease was a big enough commitment for one day. But I can’t get the idea out of my mind. I was sitting at Humble’s, celebrating with Dakota, and I kept thinking about what a shop like that might look like. After Humble’s, we went to the Fly. There were lots of people out tonight, and I still kept thinking about Cambria’s question.”

“Do you think she meant it?”

“I have no idea how serious she was, but maybe?”

“So candles and jewelry?”

“And Dakota’s ceramics. Cambria mentioned gift items and home decor. We could have handmade soaps and body care, picture frames, stickers… Lots of possibilities.”

She was animated, noticeably excited. “It sounds like you’re legitimately considering going into business with her,” I said.

“I don’t know. It’s…scary.”

“It’s outside your comfort zone. That’s often a good thing. It means you’re stretching. Growing.”

“It’s so far outside of my comfort zone.”

“Why is it?”

“Business owner? Me?” she said, her voice pitching high. “I told you I don’t know a thing about running a business.”

“You have a unique product line in your jewelry. Plus ideas for other lines. Business is something you can learn. I’m betting Cambria has some business acumen, or she wouldn’t be looking to open a store.”

“I don’t really know. We’ve sort of fallen out of touch as adults.” She went thoughtful and quiet again, then asked, “It would be crazy to pursue this, right?”

“Maybe it’d be crazy not to.”

She laughed as if she thought I wasn’t serious.

“Harper, you told me barely twenty-four hours ago you needed to find purpose. Something that excites you.”

She sighed. “You’re going to use my words against me, aren’t you?” she said.

I laughed quietly. “You’re going to fight what’s right in front of you, aren’t you?”

She leaned her head back into the cushion, peering at the ceiling fan on the overhang that sheltered this part of the deck.

“Tell me what scares you about it,” I said.

“Everything,” she said without thought.

“Let’s break that down.”

She lifted her head to frown at me. “You’re going into teacher mode now.”

“It’s what I do. It seems like you showed up tonight to talk through this, right?”

“Maybe I came over because you called me hot.”

“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have told me about this business opportunity. You would’ve avoided it by kissing me. Again.”

With an adorable pouty look, she said, “You don’t have to call me out.”

“Just calling ’em like I see ’em.”

“It’s not too late for me to go the kissing route.” She said it like a threat.

The way my body reacted, it was anything but a threat.

“We had our one date last night,” I said as if I wasn’t tempted to lean over and kiss her this time. “Besides, you’d still have the same problem weighing you down afterward.”

“Logical people are annoying,” she said, but the fact that she didn’t kiss me told me she really did want to talk out her decision, regardless of acting grumpy.

I held myself back from touching her in support. “If you went into business with Cambria, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could fail,” she said with zero hesitation.

That quick response took me aback. “People fail all the time.”

“I don’t.”

“You’ve never failed?”

Harper bit her lip, thinking. She scrunched her nose up and said, “Not really. No.”

I tilted my head and gave her a skeptical look.

She shrugged. “You can’t fail if you don’t really try.”

“You haven’t tried at anything? Ever?”

That was so opposite of my life in sports that I couldn’t fathom it. And school… I’d always strived for good grades and graduated with a four-point-oh average.

“Just ask my dad. It frustrates the hell out of him.” A ghost of a grin tugged at her lips for a second then disappeared.

“Wouldn’t he be happy to see you take a chance on this?”

She covered her face with both hands, then slid them down to her mouth.

“Speaking as a parent,” I continued, ignoring the inner voice that said I had no idea what I was doing as a parent, “I’d think he wants you to find success and happiness, whatever that might look like.”

With her hands still in front of her mouth, she tapped her index fingers together repeatedly, agitated, not meeting my gaze. Then with a gusty exhalation, she spit out, “It’s not about my dad. It’s a me thing.”

She was obviously struggling, and I could no longer resist touching her. I spread my palm over her lower thigh, above her knee.

“I’m scared of failing,” she said in a quiet voice. “Of embarrassing myself. Always have been. I know my dad just wants me to be happy. I’ve tried to make myself believe I’ve been happy all these years drifting along, but deep down, I hate that I’m a scaredy cat. I hate that I can’t seem to put myself out there and do anything meaningful.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight. “Hate it.”

“You do meaningful things. Look at the gala last night. You had everyone tearing up.”

“That was for Naomi.”

“That was meaningful.”

Her hand landed on mine, but it almost seemed incidental. She was clearly lost in her thoughts, and I’d bet they weren’t kind toward her.

“Harper. Give yourself some credit.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Why don’t you explain?”

Though she hadn’t shed any tears, her breath in was shaky.

“Come here.” I lifted my arm and made a place for her to sit in the crook of it.

Her short skirt made shifting awkward, but she settled in next to me, her legs stretched out on the perpendicular side of the sectional, and rested her hand on my thigh.

“Tell me what I don’t understand,” I said.

She trailed her finger back and forth on my leg, over the fabric of my sweats. Her eyes tracked her movement as her strokes went from short ones to longer ones. I’d already been struggling to ignore the effects her nearness had on me. But with her finger inching farther up my thigh…

I caught her hand in mine and wove our fingers together. Her gaze shot up to my face.

“Getting a little too close,” I told her.

Her brows shot up, as if she was considering a full-on diversion tactic.

“We’re talking about important stuff. You’re not going to distract me,” I said, meaning it.

She slumped back against my side, not talking but not trying to pull her hand out of mine either.

After several minutes ticked by, I felt her take in a deep breath. Then she said, “My family is a bunch of high achievers.”

“Yeah?”

“Every single one of them. My sister is a junior partner at a big law firm in Boston. My brother makes a boat load of money as a stock analyst in New York and is happily married to Brian. Both my siblings were straight-A students. Ashley played volleyball and basketball. Jon played varsity soccer and went to State on the swim team. My dad, well, you know him. Everybody respects him. He’s all about achievement, grades, activities, volunteering. My mom lives in San Francisco, and she’s an interior decorator who caters to high-profile clients. Apparently small-town ranch homes and lake houses weren’t enough for her.”

“That’s a lot to live up to, huh?”

She scoffed. “You think? I grew up hearing all about how Ashley aced her government test and got voted class president. Jon was the valedictorian. My dad earned his doctorate when I was in grade school. I remember in first grade, Ms. Tanney raved about both my siblings. In front of the entire class, she said she expected great things from me.”

I grimaced, guessing Ms. Tanney must’ve meant it in a positive, encouraging way, but obviously that wasn’t how Harper had taken it.

You never knew, as a teacher or a coach, how things might land with any particular student. Every kid was different. Every kid was motivated by different things. There was no one-size-fits-all in teaching.

“I figured out early on it was easier to not try,” she continued. “I already knew I couldn’t do better than my older siblings on grades, so why try? I guess it stuck.”

I pulled her to my side a little tighter. The teacher in me hated to hear that, but I’d had students over the years in a similar position. Add Harper’s overzealous, well-meaning dad to the mix, and I could begin to understand how she’d taken the road that had worked for her. It was a shame she’d felt like less before she’d even gotten started.

“So yeah,” she said. “I don’t have a lot of experience going after things I want.”

“But you might want this.”

“I don’t even know. Maybe? I don’t know the first thing to do.” She hesitated, then asked, “What would you do?”

“I’d get more information,” I said easily. “Talk to Cambria. Find out what she’s thinking. Discuss possibilities with her. Did she ask my sister too?”

“Yes, she was talking to both Dakota and me.”

“The three of you should meet then. You can’t decide on anything until you understand more of the variables.”

“You’re using math words,” she said, acting disgusted.

I laughed. “Math people do that sometimes. It fits though. You need more information.”

“Yeah.” She was still for a few seconds. Then she stood abruptly, walked to the railing, and looked out toward the lake.

I missed having her against me the second she stood. Leaning forward, elbows on my knees, I watched her in the darkness, her back to me. A few strands of her hair rustled in the breeze. My eyes were drawn to the silhouette of her body, the womanly curves of her hips, the inward dip of her waist, the sexiness of her long legs and bare feet. I knew her toes were painted in a magenta polish even though I couldn’t see it from here.

Now that she was at a safer distance, I couldn’t deny how much I wanted her. I wanted to know more of her secrets.

What kind of panties was she wearing under that short skirt?

How sweet would her nipples taste?

What kind of sounds did she make when she came?

My blood pounded through me as my dick grew hard. I stood, acknowledged I was making a poor decision, and went to join her at the railing anyway.