15 Scarlett #2
Judging by the expression on his face when they walked back toward the house, I have a feeling he's going to regret teaching her how to shoot.
Harper, on the other hand, looks entirely too pleased with herself.
By lunchtime we're both seated at the dining room table with our books spread out around us waiting for Hannah to arrive.
The guys are gathered around the massive kitchen island while Roman finishes preparing lunch.
“This is so good,” Harper says around a huge bite of pizza. “Seriously, where did you order this from? I've never had pizza this good before.”
Roman looks genuinely offended.
“Order it?”
Harper pauses.
“Yeah?”
“That’s because you've never had our pizza.”
“Our pizza?” she repeats suspiciously.
“It’s a family recipe. My mom taught all of us how to make it when we were younger.”
Harper slowly lowers her slice.
“Wait. You made this?”
Roman places a hand over his chest dramatically.
“After all the phenomenal cooking you've witnessed over the last week, you question my ability to make pizza?”
“I question everything you do.” The smirk she sends him makes Roman narrow his eyes.
“You wound me, Tempesta.”
“Good.”
“You know, most women would appreciate having a man who can cook.”
“Most women aren't me.”
“Thank God for that.” Harper throws a napkin at him, and he catches it without even looking.
The two of them continue bickering back and forth while I focus on finishing the last few questions from my history assignment.
I think it's become my favorite background noise.
Their constant arguing has somehow become comforting.
I'm nearly finished when the doorbell rings.
Declan pushes away from the island and heads toward the front door.
And all I can think is thank God he's actually wearing a shirt today.
A moment later Hannah walks inside carrying a stack of textbooks against her chest.
She immediately freezes and her eyes slowly travel around the room.
Four ridiculously attractive men standing in one kitchen.
Poor girl doesn't stand a chance because her cheeks turn bright red almost instantly.
“Hi Hannah,” I call with a smile and she practically jumps.
“H-hi.”
Declan steps aside to let her pass and I swear she stops breathing for a second when she has to walk past him.
Harper notices too. The grin spreading across her face is downright evil.
Hannah rushes over to the dining room table and quickly takes the seat between Harper and me.
The second she sits down she opens one of her books and stares at it with an intensity usually reserved for bomb defusal.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Every few minutes her eyes drift toward the kitchen and every time she catches herself looking, her face turns even redder before she immediately buries her head back in whatever assignment we are working on.
Across the room I notice Grant watching the interaction quietly and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“What's funny?” Asher asks.
“Nothing,” Grant says calmly.
Harper leans toward Hannah and whispers “You okay there?”
“Yea, why?”
“Your face is the same color as the tomato sauce.”
“Harper!” I scold her but am trying to hold in my laugh. Hannah drops her head into her hands and Harper and I dissolve into giggles. We need to figure out a way to help Hannah.
“You two gonna stop fooling around and wasting Hannah's time? I'm sure she has better things to do than sit here waiting for you to get your laughter under control. She's here to teach,” Declan says from the kitchen island.
Unfortunately, that only makes Harper and me laugh harder. Harper practically falls into her chair clutching her stomach while I wipe tears from my eyes.
“Oh, it's okay,” Hannah says quickly. “I really don't have anything else to do. This is my job. I don't mind them enjoying themselves.”
The second the words leave her mouth; her eyes widen in horror.
“Oh my God.”
Harper and I immediately lose it again.
“No!” Hannah says, her face turning bright red. “That's not what I meant!”
“Sure, it wasn't,” Harper says through her laughter.
“I didn't mean I don't have a life!”
That somehow makes it worse and even Roman is laughing now. Hannah drops her face into her hands.
“Please stop talking,” she mumbles to herself.
“I think you're doing great,” Declan says from the island, and somehow that makes her blush even harder.
“She basically announced to the room that tutoring us is the highlight of her day,” Harper says through laughter.
“I DID NOT!”
“You kind of did,” I admit and Hannah groans.
“I hate all of you.”
“No, you don't, you love us” Harper says cheerfully.
“No, I really don’t” Hannah mutters. That earns another round of laughter from almost everyone. Poor Hannah looks like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole, but even she starts smiling eventually. For the next couple hours, we actually manage to focus on schoolwork.
Mostly.
Every now and then I catch Hannah sneaking glances toward the kitchen, and every time she does, Harper notices and nudges me under the table.
When we're finally done with tutoring, Harper somehow manages to convince the guys to postpone hand-to-hand training for the day and have a barbecue by the pool instead.
Her argument is that we've all been cooped up inside ever since the night we went to The Foundry and that everyone desperately needs to have some fun.
Surprisingly, it works. Even more surprising?
She somehow convinces Hannah to stay. Hannah argues for a solid ten minutes.
"I should really get going. I have things to do."
"No, you don't."
"Harp—"
"Need I remind you that you literally told us we were the highlight of your day?"
Hannah's entire face turns bright red. "I did not say it like that."
"You absolutely did."
"I was trying to be nice!"
"And now you can spend even more time with us," Harper says proudly. "Plus, there are four incredibly attractive men involved."
I immediately point a finger at her.
"One of those men is off limits."
Harper waves me off.
"Yeah, yeah. We know. You and Asher are disgustingly in love; it makes us all sick. We all get it."
"It does not make everyone sick."
"It absolutely does." I laugh as Harper grabs Hannah's arm and drags her upstairs before she can escape.
The three of us end up in Harper's room, which at this point might as well officially belong to her.
Over the last week she's somehow managed to move what feels like half her wardrobe into the closet.
Clothes are hanging everywhere, makeup is spread across the vanity, and several pairs of shoes are lined neatly against one wall.
Honestly, I don't think she ever goes home anymore.
Not that her parents seem to mind. Her mom has her hands full with Harper's younger brothers, and her dad works constantly.
As long as Harper checks in and lets them know she's alive, they've always given her a lot of freedom.
She's always been that way. Independent.
Wild. Completely impossible to control. After digging through approximately eight million swimsuit options, Harper finally pulls out a white one-piece for Hannah.
The suit is elegant but modern, with tasteful cutouts along the sides. Hannah immediately shakes her head.
"No."
"Yes."
"It's too much."
"It's literally a swimsuit."
"It's revealing."
"It's a pool."
Hannah folds her arms.
"I'm not wearing that."
Harper stares at her.
Then she points toward the bathroom.
"Grow a pair and put it on."
Somehow, Hannah actually does.
A few minutes later the bathroom door opens.
My jaw drops and Harper whistles. Hannah looks incredible. The white swimsuit complements her perfectly, highlighting her curves without being over-the-top.
"If my instincts are right," Harper says quietly beside me, "Declan is going to forget how to speak."
"Harp!"
"What? I'm just saying." Hannah rolls her eyes but can't quite hide her smile.
Meanwhile, Harper chooses a black bikini for herself and somehow manages to make it look effortless.
I genuinely have no idea how she's comfortable in half the things she wears.
Then again, Harper has never lacked confidence.
We head across the hall to my room where I grab a deep red one-piece swimsuit.
It's simple, elegant, and comfortable—exactly what I need after the week, I've had.
I pull my hair into a messy bun, grab a pair of sunglasses, and throw a towel over my shoulder.
The three of us gather everything we need before heading downstairs and out toward the backyard.
The moment we step outside, I pause. The guys are already there.
For once, none of them look like bodyguards, investigators, or former operators carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
They look relaxed. Roman is standing at the grill with a drink in his hand while arguing with Grant about something.
Declan is sitting in one of the lounge chairs, looking far more comfortable than I've ever seen him.
Asher is stretched out beside the pool, sunglasses on, one arm resting behind his head.
If I had known that this would have been the last moment of normal, we had I would have maybe taken a picture, because about thirty minutes later all hell breaks loose.