Her dress is so short I can almost see her underwear.
Dropping to the sofa, I place a cushion over the growing swell in my jeans.
Harper doesn’t seem to have noticed I’m here while she taps out a message on her phone.
“Something funny?” I ask.
Harper jumps and twists her neck. “Jeez! You need to stop doing that Mr. Invisible routine.”
“What’s wrong?” I watch her slide her phone back into her bag. “You seem nervous. Is that Bryan guy bothering you again?”
“No,” she says, but I’m not buying it. “It’s fine. You want to watch a movie?” She lifts a copy of
The Notebook and I roll my eyes. “What? It’s amazing!”
“For you, maybe. I’m more of a
Rocky guy. Or
Goodfellas. Nowthoseare movies.”
Harper’s blue eyes grow comically wide. “Take it back!”
“Nope.”
“You’re a movie heathen,” she huffs. “This isn’t some normal Hollywood chick flick, not that there’s anything wrongwith those. This is a cinematic work of art directed by Nick Cassavetes!”
Harper’s enthusiasm and knowledge is endearing, but there’s no fun in telling her that.
“Goodfellas is a Martin Scorsese classic,” I tease. “Ray Liotta at his best. And Joe Pesci won an Oscar for his performance.
Rocky won three. Any Academy Awards for your chick flick?”
“No,” she mumbles, standing from the sofa. “It’s scandalous. But it won MTV’s Best Kiss Award because it’s amazing. And I can’t enjoy popcorn watching people get punched, stabbed, and shot all evening.”
“Okay, okay.” I smirk. “You start the amazing movie and I’ll go make us a drink. Popcorn is thirsty work.”
She claps her hands and stoops down to load the DVD.
And I walk backward to the kitchen, unable to take my eyes off the red dress hugging her cute ass.
This is going to be a long night…
I pour myself a large vodka and half the amount into Harper’s glass.
“You okay with OJ?” I yell.
“Yeah! Whatever!” she shouts back.
Topping the drinks with orange juice, I pull open the fridge and my phone rings.
I take it out and stare down at the screen.
Fuck. Glancing through the lounge, I push the kitchen door closed and step closer to the window.
“I told you never to call me on my personal phone,” I hiss.
Milana Kauffman laughs. “At ease, soldier. You weren’t answering your other number, and you were supposed to be herehalf an hour ago. Want to come and fuck your frustrations out on me? I’m hungry for you,
Daddy.”
“Movie starts in five!” Harper yells from the other room.
“Who the hell was that?” Milana asks.
“No one,” I tell her.
“Didn’t sound like no one. Who is it?”
“Just my friend’s daughter,” I say.
Milana giggles. “Well, ditch your babysitting duties and get your sexy ass over to my house.”
“Can’t. I’m busy. Rain check.”
“Busy?” she gasps. “Never for me, you’re not.”
“I am now.”
The line falls quiet and I know what’s coming…
“Wait. How old is your friend’s daughter?”
Harper is walking through the hallway, so I turn on the tap and lower my voice. “She’s none-of-your-business years old. How does that sound? What is this, anyway? I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Milana.”
“Do you have any idea how many guys would kill to be with me right now?” she shouts.
Peering through the gap in the door, I watch Harper flatten her dress. “Not this guy.”
“No one ghosts me!” Milana snaps. “You know I’ll find out who you’re fucking. You don’t flake on Milana Kauffman.”
“I won’t tell you again. Lose my number.” Ending the call, I grab the drinks and head back into the lounge. “Here. I made it weak for you.”
Harper takes the glass, and I sit down at the opposite end of the sofa. “Why? Because I’m just akid?”
“No. Because I don’t want to wear it again,” I joke, glancing down at my sports vest. “Your vomit doesn’t smell nice.”
Her cheeks blush. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” Harper raises an eyebrow when I place a cushion in my lap.
I can hardly tell her that her dress is making me hard. And she styled her hair differently. The waves really frame her face.
“Comfort thing. Done it ever since I was a kid,” I say, and she smirks. “What?”
“Nothing,” she teases. “I just didn’t realize you evenhad a childhood. Or a heart.”
I shrug and tap at my chest. “Just a swinging brick in here, Harper. Might leave my body to medical science.”
“You have a heart,” she counters, sipping her drink. “It’s just encased in an iceberg.
The Notebook will thaw you out.”
I smirk. “If you say so.”
“Bet you were a nightmare as a kid. Boys always are.” All the trailers are for movies I’ve never even heard of. “Tell me something about yourself.”
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Just nice to know the kind of man I’m living with.”
“It’s temporary,” I say, turning to her. “I’ll be out of your hair when your dad comes home. And there’s nothing to tell. What you see is what you get.”
Harper laughs. “You’ve probably got more skeletons than a graveyard. How did you get so rich? Didn’t have you down as a computer nerd.”
“I’m not,” I say, turning back to the television.
“Not rich? Or not a nerd?” she jokes.
“Second one. How long does this movie last?”
“Two hours and one minute,” she says.
“That’s…specific.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve watched it forty-nine times. Fifty after tonight.”
“And people say students have it hard these days. You need to get out more.”
Harper lowers her drink to the floor. “So, how’d you get all the money? And how long were you in the army?”
I sigh. “Will you stop asking questions if I tell you?”
“Yeah. Because
The Notebook is way more interesting than you. No offense.”
“None taken,” I chuckle. “I was in the army for three years after I left school. Two brief tours of the Middle East were enough for me. I was back home by the time I was your age.”
Harper rolls her cheek into her shoulder, listening intently.
“I saw and experienced things that change a man,” I tell her.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.