Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
JULIAN
I reluctantly took Harper and Noodle back to Zac’s after our amazing weekend. We spent our time collaborating. A little writing. A little Netflix and chill. A lot of sex. Yep. Collaboration all around. It was fantastic. I want to keep collaborating with Harper all the time.
Unfortunately, work requires me to be in Chicago for the day, but I should be home this evening. I’m probably annoying Harper with my frequent texting, but I don’t care. I can’t get enough of her. As I’m waiting for my return flight, I get a surprise text from my girl.
Want to come over for dinner? The guys are home and I’m cooking for them. 7:30?
I picture her surrounded by hockey players, only this time there’s no glass between them, and I’m immediately jealous. But I don’t want to interfere with her friendship dynamic either. She doesn’t mention other friends often. Specifically, girlfriends. I wonder what Harper’s version of girl time is?
Ashleigh taught me the importance of girl time, and I encourage her to do it often. Hell, sometimes I even host Ashleigh’s girls’ nights. I’m excited for Harper to hang out with the women in my family at the wedding. I know they’ll welcome her to their tight-knit group.
I don’t want to cause any trouble. Zac doesn’t like me.
He doesn’t know you. But I understand if you’re tired.
Do YOU want me there?
Of course, but seriously, no expectations. You had a life before me, with other people and tons of stuff going on.
My life before Harper feels like a distant memory. Between sports, networking, and socializing, my calendar was overflowing, and I was in constant demand. Everyone always wanted a piece of me. But my time with Harper is different. She wants nothing, yet I want to give her everything. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since I’ve seen her, and I feel incomplete. I need to see her. But she had a life before me too, and I don’t want to complicate that.
I did. And it was empty and filled with busyness. You’ve wrecked me, Harper, and I’m not sure what to do with myself now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Wanting to maximize my time. I catch up with Patrick before boarding the plane. No major issues to deal with, and I’m grateful. I spend the flight writing, so I have more time with Harper. The book is coming together, and the check ins with Professor Daniels are encouraging.
When I arrive at their building, Zac is returning from walking Noodle. “You know, for someone who has a live-in dog walker, you sure walk your dog a lot,” I say in greeting.
He laughs as the doorman holds the door for us. “I miss the little guy when I’m gone. I wish I could take him with me on the road. You think I can work that into my contract?”
“If you had a good agent, you could,” I clap back.
“Not sure I can afford that kind of agent.” That’s a fallacy the other agencies like to spread. That we take a higher percentage for the services we offer. We don’t. The percentage is based on the athlete. Higher maintenance, ill-mannered athletes pay more, if we agree to represent them at all. We have standards.
“I’m available whenever you want to chat. Just be sure to tell Waters you approached me.”
“How do you know John Waters is my agent?”
Shit. Busted. “Small world, man. I get paid to know things.”
When he opens the door to his apartment, we’re greeted with laughter and delicious aromas.
“Look who followed Noodle home,” Zac says as we enter. The laughter stops, and Harper practically cross checks two hockey players to get to me.
“You’re here.” She jumps into my arms. With one swift movement, I swing her around and our lips connect in a kiss that washes away the weight of the entire day.
“Hey, gorgeous. You look domestic.” I nibble on her ear. “And edible.”
A blush fills her cheeks, and she playfully slaps my chest. “Stop.” She turns and looks at the hockey players, all with various looks of disbelief on their faces. “Let me make introductions. This is Marc-Andre Clarmont aka Mac, Henry Saxton, but they call him Harvard,” she giggles. “And Jetsy. I mean, Connor Jetson. Boys, this is Julian Decker.” Of course I know these guys, but it’s sweet she introduces me like I’m not versed in their backgrounds, stats, and draft history. And I’m positive they know me, or at least my agency and reputation.
She stands beside me, and I wrap my arm around her like a stage-five clinger. I’m aware they’re just friends, but in this testosterone-filled room, I want to make it clear to everyone that Harper’s my girl.
Harvard leans over to Jetsy and forgets to use his quiet voice. “He really is a pretty boy, isn’t he?”
Zac laughs and offers me a beer. He and I sit at the counter and watch the entertainment in the kitchen. Harper resumes her role as drill Sargent, and I can’t help but admire how she puts these guys in their place. Each person has a specific role, and Harper’s is to control the chaos. She oversees the three burley hockey players, and they obediently obey her instructions.
“I feel like I’m watching an episode of Hell’s Kitchen,” I comment to Zac as we watch them all bump into each other.
“Yeah, except she’s scarier than Gordon Ramsey,” Harvard says under his breath.
“I’m giving cooking lessons, although Mac is pretty decent already,” Harper says with pride.
“I learned the French ways from my French-Canadian mother,” he replies, his accent thick.
“Hey, I chopped up the veggies,” Jetsy whines. She pats him on the cheek to placate him. It’s a sisterly gesture, but I still try to keep myself from going caveman.
“What are we having?” I ask the chefs.
“Chicken pot pie,” Harvard says proudly.
“She’s tired of pasta,” Zac says, playfully rolling his eyes.
They finish up the cooking, and Harper sends everyone to the table. “Hey, you don’t need to wait on us. I’ve got it,” I say to her. I’m all for turning traditional roles on their ear.
“Not the way she likes it,” Zac says. I’m not sure if he meant the double entendre, but I bristle anyway.
Harvard laughs at me. “She makes a big deal out of the presentation, but once she sits down, she’s done. The rest is up to us. We do what she says.” He motions with his head to sit down.
“It’s like she’s trying to domesticate us,” Mac adds, and they all laugh.
“I heard that,” she sing-songs from the kitchen.
She brings the food to the table, and it looks delicious. She serves each of us and then takes a seat next to me. “Dig in, boys.”
They gobble it down like they haven’t eaten in days and, in reality, it’s only been a few hours at best. Athletes eat often, and the food consumption still amazes me after all these years.
Harper’s amused. This. Helping friends. I’m witnessing her in one of her happy places. She’s not a party girl. She’s the girl that stays home, takes care of her people. I see how loyal and kind she is, and it makes me know I can’t lose her.
She leans over and says behind her hand, “I promise it’s safe to eat. I supervised.”
“Hey, we’re getting better. Jetsy made a frozen pizza the other day and remembered to take the plastic off,” Harvard says. They all laugh while I visibly cringe.
“You live in New York City and had frozen pizza? That’s sacrilege,” I say. Jetsy shrugs it off.
Everyone’s having a good laugh and getting along. After second and third helpings, the guys slow down, their calorie consumption met. They clear the table, and I take Harper’s dish to the kitchen.
“Hey, let me clean up. Ya’ll cooked.” They look at me suspiciously.
“Trying to impress CJ,” Harvard comments. “Smart. We get treats when we do stuff like that.” What kind of treats do they get? My mind immediately jumps to the type of treat I’d like, but we’re in mixed company.
While I’m cleaning up the kitchen, arms wrap around my waist, and I savor this blissful moment. “This is nice,” I tell her. “I love seeing you happy.”
“Have you seen me unhappy?” Come to think of it, I haven’t. She has different levels of happiness, but I haven’t seen her sad or angry. Not that I want it, but I’m looking forward to it. I love learning how she handles her emotions, each with unique expressions. I need to know everything about this woman. I’m beyond infatuated.
“No. Tell me, what does that look like? Is it ice cream and rom-coms?” I turn to face her, and there’s a gleam in her eye. That look tells me I’ve messed up and I’m about to hear about it.
“Do you really think I’m that basic? I’m a little offended.” She’s giving me a hard time, and if we were alone, I’d spank her for it.
“Gorgeous, you are anything but basic.” She gives me a little kiss and walks away. My eyes are glued to her as she sways her hips, reminding me she’s far from basic.
She drops onto the couch and throws a pillow at Zac. “Hey, Zac, what’s my go to karaoke song?”
“Is that what we’re doing tonight because I can’t do that sober,” he says, deadpan.
“No, but can we do that soon? I miss our karaoke parties.”
A slight pang of jealousy hits at the mention of their shared history. I move past it and channel that feeling into learning more about her. I’ve noticed she’s always listening to music, but now I’m learning she likes to sing too.
“Zac’s done karaoke? But not with us?” Jetsy acts genuinely hurt by this slight.
“When I was in Atlanta, CJ wanted to go out with us, but she wasn’t twenty-one yet, and Lawson wouldn’t let her get a fake ID. The only place we could take her out was this shady karaoke bar.” I’m not sure if Zac is telling this story for the benefit of his teammates or me. Yeah, they go way back, but I’m drinking up every detail he’s sharing.
“You make it sound like you’re so much older. Eight months, Zac. Eight months!” She playfully hits him with a pillow, and Noodle moves out of her line of fire. This sibling type behavior seems to be a normal form of communication between them.
He swats the pillow away, laughing at her. Yep. Sibling is the best way to describe their relationship. She was his Captain’s little sister. She grew up with a literal hockey team and twenty or more bonus brothers.
“We’d go to this hole in the wall karaoke place, and she’d make us sing.” I try to picture a hockey team singing karaoke, and I cringe. It couldn’t have been good.
“I didn’t make you sing,” she interrupts and rolls her eyes.
I’ve finished in the kitchen and sit next to her, pulling her into my side. “I didn’t,” she whines to me, like I have to be convinced. I’d bet she didn’t make them do anything. They were under her spell and did anything she asked. Like karaoke. Hell, I saw her wield that magic in the kitchen tonight.
I kiss her on the temple. “I’m sure it was their idea,” I chuckle.
“Anyway, this girl has some pipes.” She does? Now I’m curious.
“And her go-to song?” I ask.
“I’d advise you not to piss her off,” he warns. “Because she can channel Carrie Underwood pretty fuckin’ good.”
I wrack my brain to decipher what song he’s talking about, and she plays “Before He Cheats” on the Bluetooth speakers. The warning song fills the room, and Harvard stands up and sings off-key into his pretend microphone. Harper cackles at his antics. Well, okay then.