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HARPER
*
THE SMELL OF BURNING pastry filled the air. I put on an oven mitt and pulled the tray of Danishes out of the oven. They'd gone way past the golden brown stage.
I was having a hard time concentrating. I was still trying to shake off my disappointment at losing the restaurant job.
Someone was tapping the bell like their life depended on a cupcake. Clearly the counter was unmanned again. Damn Tracey and her frequent smoking breaks. I removed my apron and hair net. It had better not be Jon. I never wanted to see that jerk again.
I groaned inwardly as I stepped out of the backroom. There were the two Cherries, as they were called in high school, from Kat Ainsworth's clique, checking out the chalkboard menu on the side wall.
Sheri looked exactly the same as she had in high school, down to the highlights in her dark blonde shag and the thinly plucked eyebrows. And Cherise, though she'd changed her hairstyle, was still tanning like a fiend. Both of them were wearing stylish workout clothes, but they clearly hadn't done any sweating yet, their makeup was still perfectly set.
I'd never seen them here before. Now, just a few days after moving into Rowley's back house, they had a hankering for bakery goods.
Sheri's eyes flicked in my direction and narrowed. She took a thorough measure of me, and then her eyes popped open wide as she feigned surprise. "Oh my God, it's Harper McCray."
She turned to her friend. "You remember Harper don't you, Cherise? She used to tag after her brother and Rowley. They couldn't shake her," she said with a nasty chuckle. Did mean girls ever grow out of this attitude, ever self-reflect?
"I remember her," Cherise said, spearing me with a hard look.
"What can I get for you?"
"I thought you'd gone off to college," Sheri said.
I'd never actually gone anywhere. It was my brother who had wanderlust. I'd only attended the local community college, but why bother explaining that to these two. "I dropped out."
"Guess that's obvious," she said, and looked around the bakery with obvious disdain. "How's your brother?"
"He's fine." I tapped my fingers impatiently on the glass countertop.
"I heard you got a divorce. You know it isn't fair to expect Rowley to rescue you...again. I mean you aren't a kid anymore." They were circling the wagons for Kat. Did they really think I was a threat? That I could poach Rowley from Kat? If they only knew that he thought of me as a little sister.
"I've got cupcakes in the oven," I lied. "Ring the bell when you decide." As I stepped back through the curtain, I could hear them snarking about how fattening the desserts were and how they wouldn't touch them. The chime sounded as they left the shop.
The Cherries meanness hadn't shocked me, but knowing Rowley had spoken about me had. Good thing I hadn't unpacked. It would take me ten minutes tops to get the hell out of his house.
Working my butt off doing double-duty since Stuart hadn’t bothered returning from lunch, did nothing to lessen my anger.
I arrived home to find Rowley’s truck parked in front of the garage. I was instantly nervous, but I decided I wasn’t going to let his presence stop me. I'd leave in broad daylight.
I didn't even change out of my work clothes. I just started hauling boxes to my car.
Rowley came out of his screen door with a bang.
He snatched out the two boxes I'd managed to get in the trunk, and started walking them back to the house.
I followed on his heels. "I've been told I'm taking advantage of you."
He directed a glance at my unassembled drum kit in the corner then turned one of the boxes upside down, emptying all my underwear onto the couch. "Who the fuck said that?"
"That's not important." I had no intention of getting into the middle of whatever was happening between him and Kat. "What matters is that you complained to someone about me."
He placed the empty box on its side and stomped on it, collapsing it and bursting out the bottom. "Does that even sound like something I'd do?"
“No. It doesn’t,” I had to admit. But how did Kat's entourage already know about my living situation? Was Kat stalking his house?
Rowley overturned the next box, spilling the contents out on the couch as well, before busting up the box.
He was already grabbing one of the boxes from the stack in the corner of the room. I did not want my shampoos and body oils thrown on top of my clothes and possibly staining them. "Okay. I've got the message. I won't leave."
His hazel eyes fixed on me for a long moment then he made a point of collecting the smashed boxes.
"Seriously? You've nearly turned them into pulp. I couldn't possibly reconstruct them again."
"Babe, I wouldn't put it past you." He tilted his head to the stack of unpacked boxes. "And put that stuff away."
***
AFTER A STRING OF LATE night shifts frying up donuts for the morning rush, I needed a break. Jon, Mr. Sunshades himself, hadn't really been off the mark when he'd described me as a donut fryer.
On my way home from work, I stopped off to buy a folding chaise lounge and some sparkling water. I felt like I needed sun more than sleep today.
I popped the bottled water into the fridge, put on a bikini, grabbed up my laptop and stepped out into the miniature, enclosed backyard that belonged to the guesthouse.
I positioned myself to reduce the glare on the screen, clicked on my favorite streaming radio station, then put on my headphones. I began searching for culinary schools that offered programs in baking and pastry arts.
The luxurious warmth of the sun did not make it easy to concentrate.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the gate swinging open. I removed my headphones as Rowley stepped into the yard.
"I'm on shift for twenty four hours. Wanted to make sure you were good. No more tantrums." He was so clearly struggling to keep his eyes fastened to my face.
"It was actually more of a flounce than a tantrum," I said. My phone chimed atop the little metal table.
"Whatever it was, don't do it again." The phone chiming paused for only a second before starting up again. I glanced over. Unsurprisingly, it was Finn. He thought he could pressure me into answering the phone by ringing me in quick succession.
Clearly annoyed, Rowley shot a glare at the phone rattling the rickety metal table, before swinging his gaze back to my face; a man determined not to see anything below my neck.
I couldn't help myself. I was sitting cross legged on the lounge, the computer on my lap. I set the laptop down on the grass beside me and unfolded my legs then stretched out fully on the lounge, stacking my hands behind my head. His eyes flicked away from me, he pretended to be interested in something in the yard, but his body was rigid, his shoulders held in a stiff, square line.
I might be off limits, the sister he never had, but dammit if I didn't have some power over him. And having power over Rowley Ford was a heady experience.
His gaze flicked back to my face.
I shifted on the lounge, crossing my legs at the ankle.
He lost the struggle, his gaze dropped to my breasts, and then proceeded slowly down the entire length of my body to my tippy-toes. His shoulders heaved in a deep breath and he dragged his hand through his hair.
"Admit it, you thought I'd stay a teeny-bopper forever."
He pulled his gaze from my body and refocused on my face. "Hell, of course I knew you'd grow up. Just not into a sexpot."
My cheeks flamed, but I couldn't help laughing. "I can't believe you just said that. Who uses that word nowadays?"
He smiled wryly. "How about bombshell, that work better for you?"
"Much better," I said with a smirk.
Suddenly, I felt awkward about being so brazen. Wrapping the towel around myself would be tantamount to blaming him, when I'd clearly asked for the attention. Instead, I reached down and picked up the laptop and set it back on my lap. It didn't have the coverage of a towel, but it provided a bit of a barrier.
"I'm thinking of attending a culinary school."
"Find something in driving distance."
God almighty, he was controlling.
"Actually, there is one fairly close, with a great reputation, but it's way too pricey."
"I'll cover the tuition, books...all of it."
I blinked up from the computer screen. "I can't accept that."
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet then thrust his credit card toward me. "I insist on it and all I ask in return is that you keep that pretty mouth of yours buttoned up tight. No arguments and no thanks."
When I didn't take the card he set it on the little metal table, tucking it beneath my phone which was ringing again.
"Someone is sure desperate to talk to you." His gaze narrowed. "Your ex giving you trouble?"
I took a moment to answer. "Not really." But I'd hesitated too long. I could see it in the way his face grew taut, his lips thinned.
Now I had to explain my hesitation or he would take action because Rowley didn't just let problems fester he felt compelled to solve them.
"He's having a hard time letting go is all," I said.
"He signed the papers," he nearly growled.
Why was he getting so worked up about it?
"Actually he refused. It was a contested divorce."
"Regardless, it's over."
I shrugged. "I can't help but feel guilty. I should never have acted so impulsively."
"Pity the poor bastard all you want, but don't compound your mistake by letting him think he still has a chance."
He picked up the phone. "You need me to remind him that you two are divorced?"
I plunked the laptop onto the grass then leapt off the lounge and lunged for the phone. I had to actually tug it out of his hand. "Jeez, you're like a big brother on steroids. Let me handle this my own way."
He reached over and pinched my chin and lifted it so that I was forced to look up into his eyes. "Sweetheart, don't fuck around with this. You aren't doing him any favors."
He dropped his hand suddenly and jammed it into his pocket like he regretted touching me. "Use my card. Get yourself enrolled."
"I'm a bad bet, Rowley, and you know it. It's one thing if I waste my own money, but throwing yours away..." I shook my head and swallowed back the lump in my throat. "I never stick with anything. Community college, every job I've ever had, my marriage."
I paused and then pointed at him. "Now you're supposed to tell me I'm too hard on myself."
He gave a wry lift of his eyebrow. He wasn't about to tell me that, because he was honest to a fault. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and ran the back of his curled fingers along my cheek. "Do it for me. Sign up today."