Chapter Fourteen
She should have tried being this happy with every customer months ago. Her tips were up considerably today. Biting her lip to hide yet another grin, Harper made a mental note to buy more chocolate sauce. She shivered as she poured a blended coffee into a clear plastic take-out cup.
Thoughts of Trent had ensured most of the day had passed quickly. When Drea arrived at two o’clock for the late shift, Harper was still grinning.
Standing next to Drea was a slightly older woman, her hands tightly clutching the shoulders of a young boy with curly brown hair who was dressed in a Florida Marlins shirt and shorts.
“Aunt Celine, this is Harper. Harper, this is my aunt Celine,” Drea said, gesturing between the pair.
Harper walked from behind the counter to join them near one of the empty tables. “Hi, Celine. I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said, shaking Celine’s hand.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us.” Celine’s voice was soft and calming.
Harper crouched down. “Well, you must be Milo. I’m very pleased to meet you. I like your jersey.”
“My momma got it for me for my birthday,” he replied, revealing a missing tooth.
Drea held out her hand toward him. “You wanna come get some ice cream with me?” Milo nodded enthusiastically and Drea led him toward the counter.
Harper stood and smiled at Celine. “Please, sit,” she said, extending her arm toward a table.
Celine’s hazel eyes welled with tears. “We’re at a loss, Harper. He’s so far behind and it took us ages to convince anyone that something was wrong. I just don’t know where to begin.”
Harper grasped Celine’s hand across the tabletop.
Finding out your child was going to struggle through school was as big an adjustment for parents as it was for the child.
Learning disabilities, ADHD, behavioral problems. All could be assisted or managed, but while it was true that there were many great teachers and resources, it never seemed to be enough.
“Well, let’s break it down together and see what you need.
We’ll separate home and school. The most important thing to remember is that while dyslexia can’t be cured, proper instruction and processes can help alleviate some of the difficulties.
First, let’s talk about what school support you’re entitled to. ”
Harper collected the series of notes she had written during their conversation, and handed them to Celine who paged through them carefully.
The tight hunching of Celine’s shoulders relaxed and she let out a breath. “Thank you for doing this,” she said, placing the pages into her purse.
Harper hugged Milo and Celine good-bye, hopeful she’d given Celine some practical advice and emotional comfort.
“It means so much to them—and me—that you’re doing this,” Drea said, after a very happy Celine and a sugared-out Milo left.
“I’m happy to do it.”
Drea peered at her. “You do look happy—extra happy. Wow. So happy that if I didn’t know better, I might wonder if—”
“I had Trent over last night,” Harper said quickly.
“Over for dinner or ‘over’ over?” she asked suspiciously.
Harper grinned. “Over, over.”
“You did not!” Any higher and Drea’s squeal would have shattered glass. “Oh my God! Oh my God! You totally did.” Drea grabbed her hand, dragging her to the break room.
“Marco, cover the counter,” she yelled over her shoulder.
Standing there with her hands on her hips, her toe tapping furiously, Drea looked at Harper expectantly. “So give.”
“It was spectacular.” Harper blushed as she remembered how good it felt. Every time had been wonderful, and hot, and different. Even the time-constrained shower this morning had blown her mind.
“I KNEW IT!! Okay, so details … how many times, where, how good? Was he as sexy naked as I imagine he is?”
“Drea!” Harper exclaimed. “Have you been thinking about Trent naked?” she asked, smacking her friend on the shoulder.
“Are you kidding me? Is the pope Catholic? Have you seen your boyfriend? Most women wonder what he looks like naked. Anyway, we’re digressing … so?”
Harper didn’t know whether to be horrified or pleased.
“Yes. To answer your questions … erm … lots, everywhere, mind-blowing. Does that cover everything?”
Drea looked incredulous. “That does not constitute anywhere near a big enough share. You are pitiful when it comes to these conversations. I have no clue why I am your friend.”
“Okay. How many times for what? Sex or orgasms?”
“Holy shit. There’s a difference? Lucky girl!”
“Hey Drea, it’s getting kinda busy out here?” Marco’s shout came over the swinging door.
“We are so not done, lady. We need a drink together. Soon.” As Drea left to help Marco, Harper’s phone buzzed.
Missing you. Can I see you tonight? My place?
Harper felt as giddy as a teenager as she reread the message.
YES. Would love to. What’s your address?
Don’t worry. I’ll pick you up when I’m done here … 8ish? P.S. Bring overnight bag ;-)
* * *
“You’re so not picking the next movie,” Trent said, grabbing the remote as Harper laughed. Her choice of movie, two hours of boring family drama, filled with endless angst. They needed something funny, or at least action, to lighten the mood.
Pizza boxes sat on the coffee table, bookended by a couple of beer bottles. A movie, some food, and a couple of drinks. He loved it.
“How about this classic? Ever seen The Blues Brothers?” He looked down at Harper who was curled up on the sofa, her head resting on his thigh.
She stretched along the sofa, her T-shirt lifting a little to reveal a sexy strip of skin above her jeans.
He ran his fingers an inch under the waistband, watched her pupils flare in response.
As much as he looked forward to taking her to bed, he was enjoying this.
She fit. In his home, his car, and his life.
“What self-respecting Chicagoan hasn’t? My dad is still mad at the city for all the traffic problems caused by filming that big chase scene under the El. And for all the Sunday mornings they blocked off chunks of downtown.”
Trent went still. Did she realize what she was saying? Was she finally opening up to him?
“Didn’t see a cute country girl like you loving an R & B movie.” He stroked her hair, ignoring the all-important moment John Belushi walks out of prison, all that brilliant light behind him.
“What’s not to love?” She rolled onto her back, looked up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her gently. Her hand slipped around the back of his neck, her fingertips tickled. His lips teased hers, brushed and nipped them. Savored them.
He pulled back and reached for his beer, took a long draw. The need for answers gnawed at him, but dragging them out of her was never going to work. She needed to tell him in her own time.
“There are even tours you can take to go around Chicago and see all the locations used in movies. Used to drive me nuts when I was trying to get to work. My dad’s office was down on…”
Harper stopped abruptly and sat up on the sofa. The color had drained from her face and she was holding her hand against her mouth. She looked down at her lap. He remained quiet, waited to see what else she would share with him.
“I’m from Chicago,” she blurted. For the first time in weeks, Trent could see the panic back in her eyes, and it wounded him to see it there. To think that sharing those details with him would scare her.
“Well, I guessed you were from somewhere north, sweetheart. Jordan or Pippen?” It was the first thing he could think of but he wanted to keep her talking, needed her to keep talking about Chicago to tamp down the frustration that rumbled inside him.
“Jordan, but Reid would always say Scottie Pippen. I like this song,” Harper said, looking over at the television. “What was it called? She caught the … it was a girl’s name … something like that.”
She lay back down on the sofa, rested her head on his lap again, but her body was rigid.
“Katy. It’s ‘She Caught the Katy.’ What do you think will happen just because I know you grew up in Chicago?”
“Nothing. Nothing will happen,” she said quietly, but her fingers gave it away. They were flaring in and out again at high speed. He reached for them, calmed them between his.
“I’m sorry, Trent,” she said, finally.
He kissed her hand. “I know, Harper. You can trust me. You gotta know that by now.”
She looked up at him. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I’m just so used to not trusting anyone that it’s hard.”
Trent turned the movie off, pulled Harper onto his lap, and settled into the sofa. “You wanna start, now?”
“What do you want to know?” She asked him guilelessly.
“Everything.”
* * *
“I was born and raised in Chicago. Just me, Mom, Dad, and Reid,” Harper started.
“I was a ninth grade English teacher there. It was my dream job. I love words. I love the structure of language and I love awe-inspiring writing.” Harper closed her eyes and could see herself back in the classroom teaching teenagers, hoping she could convey all of her passion to spark even the most minimal flicker of interest in every kid who came through her classroom door.
“It’s why I’ve loved helping Joanie with her diploma. And helping Drea’s cousin Milo and his family cope with his dyslexia.”
“I knew it,” Trent said, passing her a beer and clinking the top of her bottle with his. “All that objective noun stuff you spouted at the studio that day. Dead giveaway.” His hand was around her waist, his thumb making small circles over her hip bone.
“It was an adjective-noun combination, but that’s not the point.
” Harper cracked a weak smile. “My dad, who worked for a financial services company, had always hoped he’d get a lawyer or a doctor, but teaching children was all I ever wanted to do.
” She smiled, remembering her dad’s begrudging praise when she won her first award for being an inspirational teacher.
“My brother, Reid, was everything to me. He was my protector. He terrorized me as all older brothers do, of course, but he was my best friend.”