Chapter Nineteen
“Can you get out of my seat, please?” Harper looked up to see Drea glaring at Cujo. The swirl of pink, red, and orange lights in the nightclub flashing across her face did nothing to hide the menacing look she was giving him.
Cujo leaned forward. “It’s not your seat, shortcake. I’m just hanging with Harper.”
“What? I’m not allowed to go to the bathroom now?” she shouted over the pounding beat.
“What? Is this freaking high school?” He mimicked her higher pitch perfectly. Harper stifled an awkward laugh, even though the friction between the two of them was unsettling. “Did you honestly ask Harper to save you a seat?” Cujo teased.
He laughed as Drea stomped off toward the bar.
Harper turned to face Cujo. “I really don’t know what’s eating her today.”
“Not your problem. We all have bad days. She just seems to have more than most.” Cujo put his arm around her shoulder and Harper flinched.
“Sorry, Harp. I didn’t think.” Cujo lifted his arm quickly.
Harper grabbed his hand before he could take it away. “No, Cujo. Leave it. It’s okay. I mean, it’s not yet, but it’s getting better.”
“Wanna take your arm off my girl?” Trent appeared at her side, giving her a reassuring wink and placing a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Not really, dude. She fits me perfectly.” Harper tried to resist as Cujo pulled her in tighter to his side, knowing he was only doing it to get a rise out of Trent. “What d’you say, Harper? Run away with me and leave this jerk. I’m better in bed than Sixty over there.”
“Sixty?”
“Seconds … that’s how long he lasts, right?”
“You fucker.” Trent dove for Cujo and managed to pull him into a headlock.
“If the cap fits,” Cujo managed to grind out with his head trapped between Trent’s body and arm.
Trent smacked him across the top of his head and let him go. Cujo stood, grinning, and creaked his neck from side to side.
“Honestly H, you ever want a real man, you know where I am. I got things going on down there you can only dream about.” With a wink, he left to talk to Pixie.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she fished it out as Trent kissed her forehead.
“I’m gonna get another beer. Want anything?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “No, thanks.”
She swiped her phone.
Did you like your flowers? So sad that Taylor died. Don’t you think?
She looked out to where Trent stood at the bar, talking to the bartender.
She and Trent were just finding their way together.
She couldn’t live with herself if he got hurt looking out for her.
Yet the usual compulsion to up and run wasn’t there.
For the first time in a really long time, she wanted to fight.
* * *
“Hello, stranger.” A long red fingernail stroked his arm. Definitely not Harper. Trent handed the bartender a twenty and turned to look at the girl all up in his personal space.
She looked familiar, but he was struggling to place her. Then her friend appeared, and it fell into place. She was the redhead from his birthday weekend. What was it? Jennifer? Janice?
“Joanne.” She pouted. “I can’t believe you don’t remember me.”
In his memory she’d been pretty hot, but tonight she looked tacky in a green dress that was struggling to contain her.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” she purred, stroking the fingernail down his cheek. This was unlikely to end well.
Trent shook his head and grabbed her hands in his, keeping them away from his body as he moved a step away.
Cujo didn’t seem to be having the same problem with his reunion. Her blond friend was already kissing him, her hands opening the top button of his shirt.
“Look. This isn’t a great time for this.” He was trying to figure out how she had found him. They hadn’t met at this bar.
“I get it. It’s a surprise seeing me. Is there somewhere more private we can go for a few minutes to get reacquainted?”
“No. My situation has changed since the last time we met.”
“Ah, honey, I’m sure whatever situation you’re in is just like me. Flexible.” She took another aggressive step toward him. He took a step farther away.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, I’ve met some—”
She cut him off by pushing him against the bar and slamming her cherry-red lips to his.
* * *
“What the heck is going on?” Harper surveyed the wreckage in front of her.
A willowy blonde in a white bandage dress was wrapped around Cujo, running her fingertips across his naked scalp as he kissed her senseless.
Worse was the skinny redheaded bitch, currently sucking face with her man.
Drea was right behind her. “What the fuck?” her best friend gasped.
She watched Trent wrestle Red Barbie away from him.
Marching straight over, she grabbed the woman’s upper arm, digging in her nails so hard that she wasn’t sure she hadn’t drawn blood.
“Get your hands off my boyfriend,” she said with a calmness she didn’t really feel.
“Harper, seriously, this is not what it looks like.” Trent hadn’t moved, his eyebrows raised and his arm up in front of him in surrender. “Seriously darlin’, it’s not.”
“Your boyfriend?” the woman snarled, looking Harper up and down with a look that said she found Harper lacking. “Really?” The word oozed with sarcasm.
Harper tried not to take it to heart, but it was a thought she herself used to have every day.
The visual of Trent with Red was staggering. They looked made for each other, a thought that hurt her.
“I suggest you get out of here before I break your fingers,” Harper said.
“Listen. He and I are sleeping together, so unless you want to join us…”
“Once Harper, before we met.” His eyes focused on hers.
Red turned her attention back to Trent. “You can’t really be serious, honey.”
His gaze left Harper’s for a moment as he turned to Red. “Listen. I appreciate the offer, but there’s only one girl for me and she’s standing right there.” He nodded toward Harper.
Red’s face hardened. “Your loss,” the woman spat, turning around and looking for her friend. She grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the club.
Cujo deliberately adjusted his jeans. “Wow, Harper, you’re quite the cockblocker.”
“Did you seriously just say that?” Drea was frowning. “You have the sensitivity of a rock, you asshole.”
“Jealous, shortcake?” Cujo stared at her, his pierced eyebrow raised.
“In your dreams.” Drea walked over to Harper. “You okay, hon?” “No, I’m not. I need a minute.” She walked back to her drink, and downed it quickly. Her hands shook from the confrontation, and seeing Trent with another woman squeezed her heart painfully.
“Harper, darlin’. Wait,” Trent shouted, running after her. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry. Are you fucking kidding me? Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, you ass.”
“I didn’t plan this. She just showed up, caught me off guard. I get that it looks bad, and I’m sorry. Please. Stay here with me. She’s gone. I don’t want her here, I only want you. I promise.”
Harper wavered. The anger she felt was unnerving her. “Fine,” she snapped, trying to get her raging emotions under control.
Harper took the hand Trent offered and followed him back toward their table. “How many more women am I likely to see make out with you?”
Trent wiped his mouth with a cocktail napkin. “Christ, Harper, I didn’t ask the woman to come here and throw herself at me. It was my birthday weekend, the one before you walked into my studio and turned my world on its head.”
“You don’t do things like that when you are with someone else, Trent. I’m going to have an image in my head of you kissing another woman, and I won’t be able to get rid of it. Imagine how you’d feel if the tables were reversed.”
Trent pressed his lips flat against each other, and crossed his arms. “I’d punch the fucker’s lights out.”
Harper held her hands out to her side and bunched her shoulders. “Perhaps a little extreme, but exactly.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Point taken. I wouldn’t want the tables reversed. Ever. So I’ll say it again. I’m sorry, darlin’.”
Harper looked away. Trent pulled her over to him slowly, sliding his hands onto her hips.
“It’s true, what I said,” he murmured, his nose sliding along her jaw toward the back of her ear. “You’ve rocked my world since the day you walked into it, and all she did just now was confirm how superficial my choice in women used to be.”
Harper shook her head and put her hands on his arms.
“Tell me you’re still my darlin’?” he whispered. Harper remained silent. “You know I don’t want her. I want you. And I know you want me. So tell me. Are you still my girl?”
“You stink of drugstore perfume, but yes, I’m still your girl.”
Trent whooped and picked her up, twirling her around and planting a huge kiss on her with a loud smack.
“Now that we’re friends, can I tell you something without you getting mad at me? I wouldn’t want you dropping the F-bomb on me again.” He looked at her expectantly, laughing as she smacked his arm.
“What?”
“You’re kind of sexy when you’re jealous.”
Harper hit him again, harder this time. “I was not jealous.” She shook the pain out of her knuckles.
Trent picked up her hand and started to kiss her knuckles one by one.
“Yeah, you were. And it was hot. I thought you ladies were going to get into it right here in the bar. Not sure I’ve ever been fought over before.”
Harper grumbled at his comment.
Leaning in, he whispered, “It proves that you like me and I like that a lot.”
She hit him again, this time lighter and with laughter. “You’re an ass.”
“So I’ve been told, Ms. Connelly. So I’ve been told.”