Chapter 3
Harper
Asshole. Yeah, I know it's his house, but for fuck's sake, he could try acting like he wasn't forced into it at gunpoint.
I survey the papers strewn across the leather couch. The sterile white leather screams control freak. Cole probably had a minor aneurysm when he walked in and saw my chaos disrupting his museum-perfect living space.
I'm guessing the living room is now officially out of bounds, so I gather my work materials and carry them to the dining table instead.
At least the dining room has good lighting and plenty of space to spread out. I arrange vendor contracts and timeline spreadsheets across the polished surface. The Renegades' season kickoff gala isn't going to plan itself, and I have exactly eighteen days to pull together the event of a lifetime.
After unpacking my suitcase in the guest room, which, I have to admit, is nicer than most hotel suites I've seen, I take a long, hot shower.
The bathroom is stocked with expensive toiletries that cater to every possible taste. There’s a lavender body wash, a vanilla-scented lotion, and delicate floral shampoos alongside the masculine cedar and sandalwood.
Just how many female guests does Cole entertain? Wouldn't a girlfriend share his room? But knowing OCD Cole, he probably sleeps with them and then banishes them to the guest quarters afterward.
I dress in comfortable leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, then head back to the dining room.
The apartment is completely silent. There’s no sign that Cole is in.
But if he’s anything like Brett, he’s probably locked away in his office, plotting hockey strategies or whatever team captains do when they're not being spectacularly unwelcoming.
I need coffee if I'm going to make any progress tonight.
The kitchen, like the rest of the house, is so minimalist, I'm afraid to touch anything in case I disrupt the sacred order.
Sleek black appliances, granite countertops, and a coffee maker that looks like it belongs on a spaceship.
I'm fumbling with buttons when my phone rings.
“Ariel, thank God,” I answer, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear while I continue my battle with the espresso machine.
“Harper, I'm so sorry I missed your calls earlier. Miles had another emergency.” Her voice sounds tired.
“What has he done now?” I ask, then immediately shake my head. “Actually, never mind. I don't want to know.” It’ll just piss me off more.
“Trust me, you really don't. But enough about my disaster of a love life. What's going on? You sounded frantic in your voicemails.”
“My apartment flooded. Like, epic proportions flooded. I'm staying at my brother's friend's place for a few days.”
“Oh shit, Harper. Please tell me it's somewhere decent and not some sketchy couch situation.”
I finally manage to get the coffee maker working and lean against the counter while it hums to life. “It's decent. Too decent, actually. I'm staying with Cole Maddox.”
“Wait.” Ariel's voice goes up an octave. “Your teenage crush, Cole Maddox?”
“The very one. And before you get any ideas, he's a complete asshole.”
“But how is he in person? Still gorgeous? Please tell me he got fat and bald.”
“Unfortunately, no such luck. He's...” I pause, remembering the way he looked in the living room earlier, all lean muscle and a face that belongs on the cover of a men’s magazine. “He's disgustingly attractive. But his personality leaves a lot to be desired.”
“What do you mean?”
“He acted like I was carrying the plague when I walked in, then basically told me to stay out of his way.” The coffee maker beeps, and I pour myself a cup. “He couldn't have made it clearer that I'm an unwelcome inconvenience.”
“Maybe he's just not good with unexpected houseguests?”
“Or maybe he's just an entitled prick who thinks—”
“Don't let me interrupt.”
I spin around so fast that coffee sloshes over the rim of my mug, scalding my hand. Cole is standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.
He's changed out of his suit into dark jeans and a gray t-shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he's built like a Greek god.
His expression is unreadable, but his steel-blue eyes are boring into me in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Ariel, I have to go,” I say quickly, my voice slightly higher than normal. I hang up with shaking hands, avoiding Cole's gaze.
“So,” he says, pushing off from the doorframe. “Are you always this tidy?”
I follow his pointed look toward the dining room, where my work materials are spread across his table like I'm conducting a small-scale military operation.
“Are you always this hospitable?” I counter, finally meeting his eyes.
“In my own home? I think I have the right to certain expectations.”
“And I think anyone offering someone a place to stay shouldn't act like they're doing them a favor worthy of sainthood.”
His jaw ticks. “That’s the thing. I didn’t offer. Brett did, and I owe him too many favors to say no.”
Anger burns hot in my chest. He’s such a dick! If it wasn’t too late to go to a hotel, I’d leave right now. “How noble of you. All hail Saint Cole and his benevolence.”
We stare at each other for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Heat creeps up my neck, partly from embarrassment of being caught shit talking, but mostly from anger.
“How long are we talking here?” he asks finally. “Days? Weeks?”
“A few days, max. The contractor said it should be quick.” I cross my arms defensively. “But if my presence is such an inconvenience, I can find somewhere else to stay.”
His expression softens. “That's not what I meant.” He runs a hand through his thick mane of hair, messing it up in a way that's annoyingly attractive.
“Look, I'm not used to having people in my space.
I like my routine. But you're here, and you're Brett's sister, so we might as well make the best of it.”
It's not exactly an apology, but it's something. “Okay. Truce?”
“Truce.” He nods toward the dining room. “Just try to keep the chaos contained to one area.”
“Deal. Are you hungry? I could make dinner to thank you for letting me crash here.”
“I already ordered. Should be here in twenty minutes.”
“Oh. Okay.” I’m oddly deflated. It would have been nice to do something to show my appreciation, but of course, he's already taken care of it. Probably ordered exactly enough for one and had to add more when he remembered his unwanted houseguest.
“I ordered enough for both of us,” he adds, as if reading my mind.
“Thanks.”
Awkward silence stretches between us until he clears his throat. “I have some calls to make. The food should be here soon.”
He disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with my coffee and the lingering scent of his cologne.
I retreat to my room with my coffee and laptop, deciding to work from there for the rest of the evening. At least I can't offend anyone from the guest room.
When the food arrives, Cole knocks on my door. “Food's here,” he calls through the wood.
“Thanks, I'll be right out.”
I open the door to find Cole holding a tray with my dinner arranged with military precision. Thai red curry in a proper bowl, spring rolls lined up like little soldiers, utensils perfectly aligned, and a cloth napkin folded into a triangle.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the tray from him.
“Try not to get crumbs on the bedding,” he says. “This building has an ant problem.”
I nearly drop the tray. “What do you think I am, five years old?”
“Just saying. Those ants are persistent little bastards.”
“I'll try to contain my messy eating habits to the plate, your highness.”
I catch a glimpse of what might be a smile before he turns away, but it could have been the lighting playing tricks on me.
Back in my room, I settle cross-legged on the bed with my laptop and the tray. The red curry is rich and creamy with just enough heat to make my eyes water slightly.
I'm scrolling through vendor emails when my phone buzzes with a text from Ariel. Did he murder you? Should I call the police?
I type back: Still alive. Barely. He's like living with a beautiful robot.
Ariel: Beautiful robot who heard you call him an asshole?
Me: Unfortunately, yes. This is why I don't do roommates.
Ariel: Maybe he'll warm up once he gets used to you being there.
I snort, taking another bite of curry. Yeah right. I give it two days before he builds a wall down the middle of the apartment.
My phone rings immediately.
“You can't give up that easily,” Ariel says without preamble. “This is Cole Maddox we're talking about. Your first real crush. Don't you want to see what adult Harper could do with that situation?”
“Adult Harper has more sense than teenage Harper,” I say. “Besides, he clearly only sees me as Brett's annoying little sister who's invaded his perfect life.”
“Or maybe he's just processing the fact that Brett's annoying little sister grew up.”
“Ariel,” I warn.
“I'm just saying.”
I think about the way Cole’s eyes raked over me in the kitchen, the way the air seemed to thicken between us during our argument. But then I remember his cold dismissal and the way he couldn't wait to escape to his office.
“It means he was probably wondering how quickly he could get rid of me without offending Brett.”
“You're impossible,” Ariel sighs. “Just try not to hide in your room for the entire stay, okay? You're sharing space with a gorgeous man. Enjoy it.”
After we hang up, I try to focus on work, but my mind keeps drifting. The apartment is so quiet, I can hear the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the distant sound of traffic far below.
Around eleven, I venture out for a drink of water. The hallway is dark except for a strip of light under Cole's bedroom door.
I'm tiptoeing back to my room when his door opens. I grind to a halt. My breath hitches in my throat, lodging there.
“Everything okay?” Cole asks as he steps out.
He’s shirtless with a pair of grey pajama pants slung low on his hips. The light from his room backlights him, carving out every defined muscle of his abdomen, the powerful V that leads down, and the solid expanse of his chest.
A light dusting of hair leads a tempting trail down his stomach. My mouth is desert-dry. I forget how to breathe. A flush blooms hot across my chest and climbs my neck.
“Fine,” I finally squeak out, my voice unfamiliar to my own ears. I clutch the glass to my chest like it can protect me, suddenly agonizingly aware that I’m wearing nothing but a t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts.
A throbbing ache begins to pulse between my legs, and my panties dampen. I can’t believe that I’m standing here struck by a lightning bolt of lust.
Cole nods, and his eyes travel a slow, scorching path from my toes, up my legs. His gaze heats my skin, stalling for a moment on my chest, where my nipples are taut and clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of my shirt, before finally meeting my eyes.
The urge to step forward, to close the space between us and see if his skin is as warm as it looks, is so strong, it terrifies me. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Harper.”
He says my name in a low, rough voice that sends a liquid line of fire straight between my legs. The sensation is so intense it’s dizzying.
I stumble into my room, shutting the door and pressing my back against it as I try to get my breathing back to normal. My heart drums hard against my ribs.
I’ve never had such a physical reaction to a man. Not even one as hot as Cole. I want to cry. I can’t be attracted to him. He’s arrogant and rude. And I’m living in his house. Not to mention, he’s my brother’s best friend. This is going to be torture.
I fall into bed and yank the covers over my head, but it’s pointless. The image of him half-naked is branded on the backs of my eyelids. The needy ache between my legs won’t ease up, and I clench them together tightly to tame it.
Maybe Ariel was right. Maybe adult me should see exactly what I could do with a man like that.
Or maybe I should remember that some crushes are meant to stay fantasies, especially when they belong to your brother’s best friend, who clearly sees you as an obligation rather than a possibility.