Chapter Sixteen
“Ow, ow, ow.”
Trent laughed at the squirming, naked body underneath him. “You know the rules by now. You gotta lube up three times a day.”
It had been a long and painful night for her. He hated pussies who couldn’t take a little bit of pain, but seeing her eyes watering with tears every time she’d rolled onto her back had damn near broken his heart.
Since she hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours, he hadn’t had the heart to wake her early. Neither of them had to be at work until noon, so they’d stayed in bed until nine.
It had almost seemed cruel to force her into the shower with antibacterial soap, but Trent had seen the aftermath of tattoos that hadn’t been taken care of properly.
When he’d pulled out the cream, Harper had run from him, although where she thought she was going to go wearing only a tiny pair of gray boy shorts he had no idea.
Pinning her down on the bed by sitting across her butt was the only solution.
“I swear, honey, this will make it feel better. You know that. This is what, your third time?”
“Doesn’t make it any better than the first. It’s almost worse because I know what’s coming.”
He squeezed some of the cream onto his fingertips and rubbed it in gently.
“You know,” he said, leaning forward over her, his arms taking the weight to keep him off her back until he could whisper in her ear. “Speaking of coming, I could probably have taken you like this last night.”
When he’d finally gotten her home from the studio, he’d encouraged her to be on top. If she wanted more from him, he was willing, ready, and able.
“I hate you right now,” she grumbled, but her ass lifted and rubbed against him in disagreement.
“Mmm,” he groaned, “I really like how much you hate me.”
He felt her laugh as her chest vibrated underneath his hands. “Show me how much you like how much I hate you.” Harper’s voice was like silk wrapping around him.
Sliding her underwear down over her ass, he laid a trail of soft kisses along the white unadorned skin. She was starting to get some color elsewhere now that she’d ditched the SPF 100. It was going to look amazing when it was all over.
“Trent Vincent Andrews!” came a voice from inside the condo.
“What was that?” Harper jumped. Trent grimaced. The morning was about to get a lot more entertaining.
“Are you home, sweetheart?”
Harper’s eyes went wide. “Vincent?”
Trent jumped off the bed and threw the cover over Harper. “My mom shows up, you’re naked, I have a raging hard-on, and yet you focus on my middle name?”
“I didn’t see you as a Vincent,” she said, giggling into the comforter as he pulled on last night’s jeans before running his hand through his hair.
“You have five minutes. Take a clean T-shirt from this drawer if you need one.” He pulled one out for himself and pulled it over his head. “Shorts in the bottom one.”
“What? No … get her out of here … I’m not meeting her like this,” she hissed as the sound of footsteps headed toward the bedroom. “Go cut her off.”
“Five minutes,” he mouthed at her with a wink before heading out the door.
* * *
Harper cursed as she slammed her head into the pillow. Meeting parents was not part of the game plan.
Jumping from the bed, she sprinted to the bathroom and pulled a brush through her still-damp hair. She rummaged through her purse for a hair elastic and quickly put her hair up in a messy bun.
Thankfully, she carried a small makeup purse, though it usually saw little action.
She curled her eyelashes quickly and then flicked on a quick coat of mascara.
Pushing the lip-gloss wand in and out of the tube to coat it, she took a good look at herself.
Yep, she looked like she’d just had sex. Which she had, in the shower.
She’d put her dress over the back of a chair last night. With a quick shake, it looked like it could get away with another wearing. Unable to stand the thought of tying the bikini strings across her back, she’d rely on the little built-in shelf for support instead.
With less than a minute on the clock, she quickly put in her earrings and fastened her necklace before giving herself one last glance in the tall mirror that hung by the dresser.
The white flashing light on her phone caught her attention. It could wait, couldn’t it? Harper looked toward the kitchen, where she could hear Trent and his mom laughing.
She swiped the phone’s screen with her finger.
An out-of-state number, but a different one than from the previous messages.
Father wrongdoer cheek abasement. I’ll be seeing you soon.
Harper grabbed the dresser to steady herself, her heart racing and her hands clammy.
She forwarded the text to Lydia and looked toward the door. Taking one last deep breath to steady her nerves, she opened it.
Trent’s mom sat on one of the breakfast stools talking to her son, who was putting a filter into the coffeemaker.
Harper would never have guessed that she was old enough to have a son Trent’s age.
She was as petite as he was huge. Perfectly put together, she wore fitted jeans and a beautifully cut white jacket.
She and her dark-haired, heavily tattooed son didn’t even look related.
All the genes must have come from his dad.
“Your dad is just parking with Kit. She wanted to surprise you, seeing we didn’t get to see you for your birthday.”
“Well, I’m definitely surprised. You couldn’t have texted when you were thirty minutes away?” They both laughed.
He turned to get cups from the cupboard and saw Harper standing just off in the hallway. Damn those dimples. Did he have to make her melt every time she saw him?
He tilted his head to the speakers. “Tito and Tarantula. ‘After Dark.’ Blues-based drums, but sometimes almost metal guitar. Robert Rodriguez is a big fan.”
He walked around the counter and held out his hand to her before pulling her in to him.
“Mom, this is my girl, Harper. Harper, this is my mom, Diana Andrews.”
Diana grinned at the two of them before standing and enveloping Harper in a fierce hug. Harper flinched from a blend of pain from the tattoo and the still-present fear that only Trent had managed to defeat. Hopefully Diana didn’t take it personally.
“Well, aren’t you just as pretty as a picture?
It’s so good to meet you, Harper. I must apologize for my very poor etiquette.
Had I known Trent had company I would have knocked, but Kit gave me her key and I was just so excited to see my son.
” Her blue eyes were bright with excitement as she continued.
“Come sit while Trent makes us both coffee, and you can tell me about yourself.” Diana patted the stool next to her.
With a quick kiss to her forehead, Trent left her to continue making their drinks.
Where to start? Oh yes, I’m practically a haphephobic who is on the run from a psychotic asshat who tried to kill me. Great first impression.
“I’m twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine. It’s my birthday this month.” She looked to Trent, who raised one eyebrow at her. She hadn’t told him. Whoops. “I work at José’s, which is a small café, with my best friend, Drea. There’s not much to tell.”
“Where are you originally from? That doesn’t sound like a Florida accent.” Harper panicked, trying to think of a plausible lie. Why couldn’t she remember any of her stock answers to personal questions? Lying used to be so much easier.
The buzzer to the condo interrupted her, and Diana jumped to her feet. “Oh, they’re here. Wait ’til they see the two of you. It’s going to knock them on their asses.”
Trent leaned over the counter and reached for her hand, pulling her close. “Say whatever you need to say to feel safe, darlin’,” he whispered. “We can undo it all later if we need to.”
* * *
“I keep meaning to tell you, Harp—I’m going to be gone a few days.
I have to go to LA next week on business.
” After grappling for a week with telling Harper the truth of why he was going, he’d decided against it.
Granted, though, telling her in a restaurant in front of his family might not be the best idea he’d ever had.
The quick flash of disappointment that crossed her face did nothing to ease his guilt.
“I’ve always wanted to go there,” Harper said softly.
“I’d go to the Getty Center in the morning, Santa Monica Pier in the afternoon, and then Mann’s Chinese Theatre in the evening.
” She let out a soft laugh that warmed him.
“Not that I know if those things are even remotely close together. What are you going to do there?”
“Are you going to see Shane?” Kit’s crush on the guy was no secret, but thankfully one-sided, given that he was over a decade older than she was.
Truth was, even if she’d been his age, Shane was a sucker for a woman with curves—real big curves—and Kit’s trim, athletic frame would have put her out of the running.
“Yeah, I’m going to check out his new tattoo shop, take one of his bikes up the coast, and go to the annual ink expo with him and Juliette,” he replied, chuckling at Kit’s grimace. Her nose piercing sparkled as she scrunched up her face in response to Shane’s wife’s name.
Didn’t it figure that LA was somewhere Harper would want to visit?
Just when he couldn’t feel any worse about lying to her.
Thank God, literally, that there wasn’t a circle in hell for the sin of omission.
If there was, he was certainly going there when the big guy called.
Assuming there was a big guy. Something Trent wasn’t absolutely sure of.
A part of him wanted to share the news about the TV show with her. To have someone to share his excitement with. But how would she respond if he didn’t get it? Could he live with disappointing her?
He watched as Harper tucked into her shrimp al ajillo, the creamy garlic sauce likely seasoned to perfection, as she listened politely to his mom go on about the latest sale at JCPenney. Harper glanced up at him and smiled.