13. Harper
13
M y eyes fluttered open and a smile instantly crept up my face. Remembering I fell asleep in his arms last night after what was likely the most magical experience of my life.
The only thing that could have made it better was if I didn’t accidentally bite my tongue after almost screaming his name.
Don't worry—it would have been the right one.
“Morning, beautiful.” His voice was so different to me now. That was the only voice I ever wanted to hear with that same endearment. How could I have been so blind?
They’re night and day.
“Morning.” I stretched in his luxurious bed and watched his smile glow in the morning light as he looked back at me.
“How’d you sleep?”
I shrugged. “Just fine.” How do you tell someone who refused to give you his real name that you slept better last night—in his arms—than you had in over a year?
He seemed disappointed in my response, so I moved into him and yelped when my inner thigh grazed something hard.
“Oh, I’m sorry—I don’t usually sleep with pants on. I must have pushed them off in the middle of the night.”
I pressed my lips together, and he laughed. “It’s not going to bite you, sweetheart, I promise.” He moved me back onto the pillows. “My mouth, on the other hand…” He bit my bottom lip, pulling it slightly. Then he trailed tiny bites all along my jaw, neck, and chest, making me squirm until he reached one nipple, sucking and biting.
A warm hand gripped my hip, holding me in place as I writhed beneath him, wanting more.
I wanted to say his name. God, how I wanted to say it, to beg him to touch me more. But when his long fingers delved into me, I gasped. “Oh God.”
My eyes flew open to find a wide grin on his face. “Sorry, my dick told me if I didn’t do something about this—” he slid up and down the wetness, brushing my clit “—then he would.”
“You’re impossible,” I breathed.
He ignored me, whispering a mixture of sweet and dirty words to me, teasing me with small strokes until he heard me say the word please . Within seconds, he had me coming undone with his powerful fingers.
“How’s your brother?” I finally asked after we’d both showered—separately—and met in his kitchen. August was in gray sweats and a white t-shirt, pouring himself a cup of coffee as I seated myself on one of the bar stools.
He paused with his mug against his lips. “August?”
I watched him. “Unless you have another brother?”
“He’s fine.”
“What’s he doing these days?”
“Like for work? He works in hedge funds and asset management.” He looked over at me briefly as if to see what I thought of that, and I smiled knowingly.
“Does he like it?”
He shrugged. “He’s good at it.”
“I’m good at making coffee,” I pointed out.
Taking the hint, he sighed deeply. “Yeah. Yeah, he likes it.”
All I could do was nod. It wasn’t like I didn’t believe him, but I knew there had to be more to what he did than simply liking it. Truthfully, it was destroying me that I hadn’t told him I knew who he was, and now that I’d been intimate with him—it was even more gut-twisting.
Emotions got in the way last night. I knew if I walked out, he’d never go after me. He hadn't all those years ago. Why would now be any different?
It was a sad attempt on my part to go along with it, but he was going to tell me soon. He had to.
I just hoped that he wouldn’t do it as part of step one of telling me he couldn’t see me anymore.
Because August Hartman was turning out to be everything I wanted, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of us if we didn’t give this a chance because of stupid circumstances—like Troy .
“Why do you think he likes it?” I pressed, wanting to know more about him.
“I suppose because he’s so good at…math. Like you said.” He moved to the foyer, stuffing a laptop into his backpack.
My face dropped. I had made a comment about him in that bathroom stall. Right before he stripped for me.
“I didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of anything else, because clearly—”
“Clearly what?” he snapped, stepping back into the kitchen.
Clearly there’s so much more to you than I ever imagined.
“Sorry, I’m done.” I knew I needed to stop, but it was hard. I still had so many questions.
He blinked, coming around the counter to me and taking my hands. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t about you.” He brought my hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly.
“I don’t need to know about your brother.” I meant every word of that. I couldn't care less about Troy. But when I looked up and saw his face, I knew it wasn’t the wisest choice of words. And there was nothing I could say to make it better.
There was a dry-cleaned suit in a bag waiting by the door. “I suppose you have someplace to be?”
“I’m driving to the city actually, but I could drop you off at work. What time do you have to be in?”
“Nine. I’m closing, which just means I come in an hour after Nic and leave an hour later.”
He seemed to consider something, pressing his lips together and staring at his phone like it was his lifeline. “Maybe I could make you some breakfast?”
There was hesitation in his tone. But before I could let him off the hook, his phone rang. I caught Troy’s name on the display just before he swiped the ignore button and pocketed the device.
August sighed heavily and squeezed my hands. “I need to tell you something.”
I was surprised to find my chest clench with panic. I knew what he needed to tell me. August wasn’t a liar at heart.
I bit my lip, already feeling his distance. “Is what you have to tell me the reason you can’t see me again?”
He nodded regretfully. “It complicates things, yes.”
Try me, I wanted to say. But incomprehensible fear of anything changing between us took over and instead, I did what I did back in that bathroom stall two weeks ago.
I chickened out.
“Then I don’t want to know. At least not yet.”
He smiled. “It’s not up to you, sweetheart.”
His phone buzzed again, and he reached for it with either a quick glance up at the ceiling or a roll of his eyes. Reading the message, he cursed and looked at me with urgency.
“On second thought, let’s go out for breakfast.” He raced to grab a hoodie and zip up his backpack.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course, we just need to go—now.”
I sprinted off the chair. “Can I pee?”
“No time.”
I laughed awkwardly and followed, zipping up my boots as August grabbed my overcoat.
“Come on.” He reached for my hand and I slipped it in his as we raced out.
I left in sweatpants, t-shirt, and a zip hoodie. The most comfortable I’d been on a weekday morning in more than a year. I left my suit hanging by the door and there was no time to go back now.
Troy: We need to talk about next Friday’s game—after my suspension. I’m coming down .
The text from Troy replayed in my head as I tugged Harper’s hand, leading her to the stairwell door. Thankfully, she followed without question. There was just no way she was finding out this way.
“We needed the exercise.” I shrugged as we came out on the seventeenth floor to catch the elevator, two floors down from where Troy was no doubt banging on my door right now. I pressed the call button and waited.
“Is this a routine? Every morning, you jog down two flights of stairs?” Harper asked breathlessly.
I pointed my finger at her. “Did you know that every flight of stairs burns the number of calories of a cup of coffee?” I shrugged. “Zero guilt.”
“So does peeing.” She shook her hips.
We made it to the lobby, and I scanned it quickly before running through the door that was pulled open for us.
“Morning, Mr. Hartman.”
Sam, our morning doorman, usually called us by our first names, but my casual attire must have thrown him off. I whipped out my phone and texted my assistant.
Me: Please ask JP Cleaners to deliver my suits as soon as possible this morning.
We took my car to Lucille’s Cafe a few blocks away—it was one of my favorite spots that served bed and breakfast style food, with the best home fries in the city and a remarkable view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Harper ran to the ladies room as soon as we walked in while I grabbed a table and ordered for us.
“Be right back with those coffees first,” Rebecca offered with a smile.
“Thanks, Beck.”
I glanced toward the restrooms at the far end of the restaurant and dialed a call I’d missed three times in the last hour.
Eddie Jones answered on the first ring. “What kind of game you playing, Hartman?”
I took it that ice hockey wasn’t the response he was looking for. “I don’t know what you mean, Jones.”
“There’s been no action on my account.”
I looked at my watch absently, even though he wasn’t in front of me. “Last I checked, I wasn’t due to start until today.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I knew I was walking on thin ice with the guy if he didn’t see some movement—and fast.
But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t bite as hard—if not harder.
“You’re right. I’m too loyal to my clients to put their assets on hold. I’ll just have to pass this back on to Jason—”
“No. Look, fine. Just let me know when you’re on it. I’m paying too much money to have this on the back burner, August.”
I hated when people reminded me of how much they paid me. I was tempted to remind him of what he was benefiting by having me on the account.
“I’m aware,” I replied in the most bored tone I could muster. But I cared. Having Rickley’s Capital under my watch, on top of what he was paying, could be the first step in my partnership with the firm.
A negotiation I was saving for after bonuses were paid at the end of the year. Which was an easy six figures for me.
I was never nervous about losing an account because of my tone. But this one had me at the edge of my seat.
After a long pause, he sighed. “Let’s meet tomorrow morning. I want an update.”
“Afternoon,” I countered. “And have your assistant contact mine.” I was pushing it, but needed the upper hand at all times.
“Fine.” The line went dead.
Harper returned from the bathroom. “God, I thought it’d never stop.” She sat across the booth, holding her bladder.
“What?” I looked up, puzzled, nearly forgetting the fact she was here with me.
“I really had to pee—and why didn’t you tell me my hair was a wreck?”
I smiled. I happened to love her loose, wild waves and very much liked the fact that she hadn’t changed much since high school. Most girls dyed or permed their hair, but the rich silkiness in Harper’s remained untainted.
“Remind me why we raced out again?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “This place gets booked up fast.”
Harper looked around the half-empty restaurant and nodded. “Ah, good thing, then.” The sarcasm in her tone made me grin.
“I ordered for us.”
“Perfect,” she said as she stared out the large window to admire the view.
“You don’t mind?”
“No. I’m sure it will be fine.” Our coffees were set in front of us, but Harper barely noticed. “Hey, how long do you think it’ll take to walk that bridge?”
I took a sip, following her gaze. “That depends. If you’re strolling like a tourist, probably close to an hour. If you’re racing to the office, or jogging, more like twenty-five to thirty.”
She turned to face me. Her face brightening. “You’ve done it?”
I laughed. “No. I’ve biked it.”
She blinked. Lifting her cup and dropping the subject.
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s on my list,” she answered without hesitation.
I jerked. “There’s a list?”
“Oh, there’s a list,” she said, setting her mug down. “And you’re on it.”
I chewed the inside of my lip as I studied her. “Tell me more. Would this list happen to be why you’re back in town and I lost my favorite shirt?”
She laughed. “I am sorry you lost your shirt.”
“Hmm. What about my pants? Are you sorry I lost those?”
She laughed again, and I knew I would never tire of seeing her light up this way.
“I…”
Becky laid our food down as Harper turned bright pink. “Enjoy,” she offered before walking away.
“This looks so good, but way more than I need to eat.”
“It’s the sampler breakfast, best option when I can’t make up my mind. So the pants, could we get back to that?” I teased.
Her brown eyes flickered back to me. A shy smile playing her lips. “No. I am not sorry you lost anything that night. I was a girl on a mission and you had it coming.” There was a glint in her eye, like she was testing me or something.
I cleared my throat and leaned in, whispering. “Your execution needed work.”
She shrugged like she regrets nothing.
I pointed my fork at her. “In fact, now that I know what I know about you, the look on your face in that stall is even more priceless.”
“I take it there’s zero chance of you ever forgetting that?”
“None.”
“Great,” she muttered and took a bite of her toast.
“When did you start this list?”
Any smile left on her features faded and she hesitated. “I didn’t. My mother started it for me when she…found out she was sick.” She swallowed the words pouring out of her like it didn’t mean anything. Like her mother’s illness was always the course and she wasn’t emotional over it. Which didn’t make sense. I knew Harper and her mother were close. But the way she spoke of it sounded as though her mother died of old age, and it was expected.
I took that to mean she didn’t want sympathy. So I didn’t offer any. “What else is on this list?” I cut into a sausage, my tone unaffected.
She pressed her lips together and reached into her pocketbook.
“You carry it with you?”
“Most people carry a photo of the person they lost. I carry something that she made for me. A photo wouldn’t do that. It would just depress me. This list—inspires me.”
It was hard not to analyze to death what Harper was telling me. So I dipped my focus down to the piece of paper between her fingers.
“May I?”
She scanned it before handing it to me tentatively.
Slowly, my eyes trailed down the list, with careful consideration to each one. Wondering what they sparked. How it affected her. How it defined her. Why it would be on the list.
I supposed I was expecting to see things more along the lines of scuba diving or seeing Cher in concert. Instead, they were ideas that gave me an understanding of how her mother viewed Harper. How she feared for her. How sheltered and afraid Anne Maxwell must have known Harper would become after her inevitable death.
“Don’t let anyone get away with hurting you.” I looked up, knowing that was the one that had to do with my brother. When she lifted her brows, I knew I was right. “I noticed it’s crossed out.”
“In pencil,” she warned.
“Noted.” My eyes flicked back down to the page. “Find a passion, but don’t let it define you. Seize the day when it feels right. You’re never too old to play hooky.”
Harper chuckled. “Mom was annoyed that I didn’t join the fun on senior cut day.”
I grinned. “I didn’t either,” I blurted before I could think.
Harper leaned in. “Really?” Her tone was a little intrigued but not overly surprised.
“I mean—I didn’t go to school but I didn’t join the fun either. All our friends did, but I…uh, stayed home.”
She nodded, somewhat satisfied with the answer and somewhat disappointed. It was hard to tell. As it always was with Harper.
She bit her lip, then looked up at me. “Well, I think your brother and I were one of the few who did show up to Ms. Altman’s calculus class.”
“You remember August being there?”
“I remember a lot about him.” She dipped her eyes to her food.
I was tempted to ask what else she remembered about me but got distracted watching her bite into a strawberry. I blinked and cleared my throat, holding up the list, which had a few items left.
“Don’t offend easily,” I raised a brow at that one. “Walk the Brooklyn Bridge.”
She smiled and turned her head out the window.
“Watch the Little Mermaid over and over again until someone else can make you smile that much.” I read with a frown. “Assuming you liked the movie?”
She chuckled and pressed her lips together. “I had a crush on the crab. It’s no big deal.” She snatched the page from me.
That was quite possibly when I laughed the hardest all morning. Hell, possibly all month. “What, like the voiceover actor?”
“No. Sebastian himself. Who doesn't love a romantic singing crab?”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “This is priceless intell. Do you know what I could do with this?” I teased.
She shrugged carelessly. “I have no shame.” She tore into a buttered pancake with delight that melted me. It occurred to me that I’d barely touched her since we woke up this morning, and it felt odd.
“Have you ever thought of altering this list?”
She dipped back. “What’s wrong with it?”
“People change. I’m sure you’re not the same person you were three or even two years ago.”
“The list doesn’t change," she said sharply. Then bit her lip. "But…I suppose there’s no harm in adding to it.”
That’s a start .
After a few minutes, Harper moaned, setting her fork down on a half-eaten platter. “I’m stuffed.”
I laid some cash on the table and stood, holding out my hand. “Come on. Let’s do it.”
“What are we doing?”
“Playing hooky.”
Her lips parted as she considered it. “I have to be at work in twenty minutes and I thought you had someplace to be.”
I shrugged. “We’re killing two birds with one stone. Seizing the day when it feels right.”