Chapter 4
FOUR
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” she whispered, glancing at the couples around them as though proximity alone would reveal this Bastian’s scam.
“You wanted someone to dance with.”
What she should do was push out of his arms. She should slap his face and tell the creep to get lost. Should. Instead, her hands skimmed higher until her fingers twined in the ends of his hair.
He wasn’t a creep. Though unexpected, it was sweet that he would do something selfless like this for her, to save her.
“You came to dance with me? To be my white knight?”
A fairytale moment brought to life.
“I had to get changed first,” he said. When she managed a yap of laughter, his straight white teeth flashed in a smile. Ah, and a dimple, cute. “Harper is your name?”
She nodded. “Harper Scott.”
“Bastian Hunt,” he said. Yeah, she’d got that much. “What do you do?”
“I’m a corporate event coordinator,” she said. “I have my own business, though I work from my father’s office complex.”
Absorbing this, his expression became more serious. “What does your father’s company do?”
“Scott Solutions. They sell bespoke IT and multimedia installations to small and mid-sized companies.”
“Installation,” Bastian said. “Computers?”
“Pretty much,” she said, amused by his simplification of what Damon liked to pretend was complex. “I thought you were in sales.”
“A spade’s still a spade.”
She laughed again. That was true. Salesmen had the gift of the gab. She guessed he was off the clock and could afford to be honest.
He drew her closer to nuzzle his nose in her hair. “Your perfume is intoxicating, what is it?”
“I’m not wearing perfume.”
His disposition shifted a little and she loosened, prompting him to hold her closer.
Now this guy’s suit was definitely tailored, no doubt about that.
Expensive too, just like the watch on his wrist. An air of success shimmered around him…
Was it just confidence or could he back it up?
What had he said about bluffing? Given he was an advocate for faking it, maybe it wouldn’t be smart to trust him too soon.
Though even fake, it was impressive. He really sold the confidence and affluence, honest or not.
“Where do you live?”
“With my mother, father, and sister,” she said. “And apparently now my ex and his girlfriend.”
“They’re moving into your parents’ house?” Bastian asked, making eye contact without separating their bodies. “How big is the house?”
“Six bedrooms.” Harper couldn’t afford not to answer his questions now he’d shown up as her plus one. People would assume they were seeing each other, or at least that they knew some things about each other. She had to fill in the gaps… and fast. “It’s big but…”
“You weren’t wrong about your father’s opinion of Damon. Why would—”
“They’re just back from Australia,” Harper said. “Charissa lived with Adara at my parents’ for a long time before they went away. Damon was staying there too… with me…” Ultimately, “It gave him easier access to Charissa.”
In response to her shiver, Bastian splayed his hands on her lower back, comforting her with strength.
“Don’t think about them,” he said. “Think about us. Let them watch.”
“I don’t imagine they’ll be watching,” she said, resting her face by his lapel.
The soft fabric and unmistakable scent of man wrought a different kind of shiver.
Damon’s arms were never this safe, she’d never felt this special with him.
Then again, Damon never once went out of his way to care about her needs.
Ha, out of his way? Her needs could be jumping up and down right there on the path in front of him and he’d still manage to avoid them.
“Oh, they are,” Bastian said. “Trust me, Sweet, they’re watching.”
She’d take his word for it. It wasn’t like she could check out the people around them.
God knew what would happen if any of them made eye contact.
She’d probably combust… or find herself naked in that nightmare.
From bad to suspicious, it really could be she was having a psychotic break.
How common was it that hot, sweet guys swooped in to play white knight?
Maybe she was in a coma or high on drugs.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, clinging to hopes of reality. “If I can ever repay—”
“The night’s not over yet,” he said with obvious cheer. If he was aiming for inspiring optimism, he’d misjudged his audience of one. “We’re just getting started. What’s your drink?”
“Vodka and cranberry,” she said. The whiskey was for emergencies and Dutch courage only. “What’s yours?”
“I drink Scotch,” Bastian said, squeezing her closer, scanning the room. Getting a measure of those he’d have to perform for? “You don’t need to know that. I take care of you.”
“I couldn’t ask you to actually—”
“What?” he asked. “We’ll dance, and drink, and talk to anyone who wants to gawk. You’re home, Harper, enjoy the night while it lasts.”
He’d been delivered by her secret fairy godmother. That had to be it. Or drugs were still a possible explanation. Would it be rude to ask Bastian if she’d been spiked?
“Okay,” she said, having no reason or inclination to argue.
It didn’t matter that this man was gorgeous or way out of her league. That night, he was there for her. What the hell? Why not enjoy it? Chances were this was the last opportunity she’d have to delay facing Damon and their past. It sure wasn’t going anywhere… unfortunately.
Bastian wasn’t done with his questions. “When would you introduce a man to your family?”
“Sorry?”
Getting their stories straight meant no time for pleasantries.
“How far into a relationship would you usually invite him to meet your family?”
“They already knew Damon before we started dating, but a guy they didn’t know… maybe three or four months, why?”
“Then that’s how long we’ve been seeing each other.”
Oh, this wasn’t a first date? Interesting slant. With one glaring flaw.
“Seeing each other…” she said. “I don’t know anything about you.”
Shit, huh, she should formulate some questions of her own. This guy was used to driving. Something about him screamed “in charge.” So far, he’d led, and he, apparently, didn’t expect that to change.
“Tonight’s about you, Harper. Our stories need to match enough to fool your family,” Bastian said. When the song ended, he retreated to take her hand. “Let’s get you a drink.”
Drunk. Yes. Stupefied. Blurring hard edges sounded good right about then.
This guy was attentive… or dangerous. In a room full of friends and family, she wasn’t afraid.
“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”
Bastian’s sure stride faltered and he turned fast, blazing scrutiny beneath his stern brow. He had to be trying to gauge if she was joking or accusing. When she smiled, his tempting dimple relaxed.
“Maybe that’s the payment required,” he said in the spirit of the tease.
“Man, then you really would be hard up,” she said, deliberately walking in to nudge him, meaning to hasten their arrival at the bar.
Except he didn’t budge an inch. The feather-light caress of his fingertip on her temple dazed her until the intensity of his smolder was all she could see.
“Yeah, I imagine I would be.”
Corny, but she laughed. “I need to be drunker for talk like that to work.”
“Good tip,” he said, curving an arm around her shoulders, pinning their bodies together for the final leg of their journey.
On arrival, Bastian slid her between him and the bar, trapping her in a protective circle, ordering their drinks over the top of her head.
This was a bold move. Shielded by his body, Bastian staked a claim, keeping her safe and away from the possibly wicked intentions of others.
Did he know that or was it incidental? Was she reading too much into it? Probably.
She’d taken one sip of her drink when Damon came barreling over.
“Can I talk to you, Harpy?” Damon asked, completely ignoring Bastian.
“You are talking to me,” Harper said, licking her lips before sucking more alcohol up her straw.
Bastian’s hand flattened on her abdomen to urge her back against his torso. Physical contact. Support. Solidarity. Leaning on him… she liked it.
“It’s important,” Damon grumbled.
Whatever was going on, Damon didn’t want Bastian involved. That only encouraged her to keep her new friend close.
“You can stay at the house, Damon,” Harper said. “I can’t exactly say no. My father would probably kick me out before he would evict you anyway. But you can tell him you were noble and considerate, though you know I would never have said no.”
Sass was run of the mill for her smart mouth when it was feeling confident.
And with the monolith that was Bastian supporting her, the assuredness came flooding back.
Would it last? Maybe. Maybe not. But it felt good then.
Which was an achievement given she’d almost vomited when Damon first raised the proposition.
“Can I say no?” Bastian chipped in. “I don’t like the idea of you living with an ex.”
Tipping up her chin, she couldn’t see Bastian’s face but addressed him anyway.
“Damon doesn’t want me, he’s in love with Charissa,” Harper said. “He dumped me, remember?”
“Thanks for screwing up,” Bastian said, propping his chin on her head. “She’s mine and staying that way.”
Damon gaped. “You’re Bastian Hunt,” he said as though he couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yes, I am.” Bastian lowered his mouth to her hair. “Where would you like to sit, Sweet?”
“Your choice,” she said, sipping her drink again.
“If I had my choice, we’d be upstairs in bed and you’d be sitting on me.”