The Strongest Steel (17 page)

At the end of the night, driving in his car with the windows rolled down, she breathed in the fresh air. She closed her eyes, yawned, and let the hum of the engine lull her.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Harper opened her eyes, surprised to find herself parked outside her apartment. Wow, a full day of beach, sunshine, and Trent could really knock a girl on her ass. The clock on the dashboard read eleven o’clock.

“Guess you exhausted me today,” she said, raising her arms and stretching as best she could in the limited headroom.

“That was the plan.” It was as normal and all-American as you could get.

Harper couldn’t contain her yawn. “Sorry I passed out on you.” She looked down and realized she was still wearing the giant tarp of a hoodie Trent had loaned her as the night had cooled off.

“No worries. You were cute while you were sleeping. Let me help you get your stuff out of my trunk.”

Walking around to her side of the car, Trent opened the door and helped her out.

Harper started to pull her arm into the hoodie to lift it over her head. “I should give you this back.”

“Nah. Keep it. It looks good on you.” He helped tug it back down and then pulled the huge hood over her head.

Laughing, Harper pulled it back so she could see. “Jackass.”

“As I said this morning … so I’ve been told, Miss Connelly. So I’ve been told.”

Trent carried her bags to the door.

“So … umm.” She really didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t look so damn nervous. I don’t bite and I’m not coming in. Not yet.”

He put his hands on either side of her face. “You truly are beautiful, Harper. Thank you for spending the day with me.”

It was all very slow, the way he pulled her gently toward him and planted his soft lips on hers. Their proximity and the dark making it seem all the more intimate. His tongue swept across her lips until his teasing became too much.

He groaned. No wait, she did. That sound came from her as she wrapped her arms around his waist and felt his firm body press hers against the door.

Suddenly, he pulled away from her.

“I’m outta here,” he said, walking down the two steps from the door. “I got a date with a cold shower,” he added with a grimace.

“Thanks again for a beautiful day, Trent. And sorry about the cold shower.”

“Me too,” he said with a laugh before getting into his car.

Chapter Eleven

“These are for you,” Eddie said, holding up an enormous bunch of yellow roses.

Standing in the entrance of their apartment building, Harper juggled the groceries she’d run out for into the other arm so she could take the flowers. “Erm, Eddie … um … thanks.” What the heck? “That’s sweet of you.”

His boisterous laugh filled the old hallway. “Oh Harper, I totally wish you could see your face. They’re not from me, although maybe I should have thought of that. The delivery guy was buzzing you when I got home from my run, so I signed for them.”

Relief flooded her. For the briefest moment, she’d thought he was hitting on her. In fairness, it was still early, and her coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. Eddie was a nice neighbor, but so not her type. What exactly was her type? Did she even have one anymore? If she’d had to guess, her type was likely six and a half feet tall, well-built, with dark wavy hair that was a touch too long around the collar, and eyes darker than volcanic rock. Oh, and that built body had a plethora of muscles and tattoos.

The sound of Eddie’s voice pulled her out of her daydream. “You know, I got a sister, Harper. And if any guy came sniffing around her, I’d check him out and threaten to kick his ass if he mistreated her. You need me to do the same for you?”

Eddie’s face was sincere as he asked and for the first time, Harper was genuinely grateful that the metal-loving bouncer was her neighbor.

“I think I’m okay, Eddie.” She smiled, burying her face in the flowers so she could enjoy their fragrance. “He seems like a good guy, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Okay.” Eddie turned to walk up the stairs but paused before he rounded the post. “You know if you scream, I’ll be able to hear you, right?”

“Nice thought, Eddie. Thanks. Very reassuring.” She watched him disappear up the first set of stairs, silently mouthing
thank you
to his retreating back.

Opening the door to her apartment, she dropped her keys on the small table next to the door, then walked to the kitchen. Placing the bright bouquet on the counter, Harper studied the flowers for a moment. She pulled the little white envelope from its holder and opened it.

Because every day should have sunshine in it. Trent x

She hugged the card. He was making her feel gooey inside. It had been such a long time since she’d felt this way.

Deciding on a nice cup of tea to perfect her morning, Harper set the water to heat and pulled down a mug. Waiting for it to boil, she took a seat on one of the stools by the breakfast bar and admired the flowers.

Beautiful tight yellow buds and open flowers contrasted with dark, green leaves. Thankfully, they had come in a vase. Otherwise they would have ended up sitting in her lemonade jug.

Tapping her nail on the top of her phone, she debated calling Trent versus texting. He’d probably be mid-tattoo, hat on backward and focused. Better not to disturb him.

What a beautiful way to start the day. Thank you xx

Not expecting a response anytime soon, Harper started to put away the groceries. Her phone buzzed seconds later, making her jump and bang her head on the open fridge door.

“Shit,” she cursed, rubbing her head until she reached the counter and could grab the phone.

Not as beautiful as you. You’re welcome.

She finished making her drink and was taking a sip of the piping hot tea when her phone buzzed again.

Going out tonight, want to come?

Putting her cup down, Harper stared at her phone for a minute. All those people to avoid in a public place. But she’d be with Trent. He’d look out for her, right? Time for the big-girl pants.

Would love to. Dress code?

Something sexy ;-)

If only she owned something that matched that description. “I need your help!” Harper said into the phone five minutes later. Having pulled every item out of her closet before dismissing them, she was out of options.

“What? No ‘hello Drea, how are you?’ We just getting straight down to business?” Drea sounded sleepy. How could she still be sleepy at eleven o’clock in the morning? Harper had already completed a six-mile run along the beach before collecting her groceries.

“You should do stand-up comedy with lines like that. I’m serious. I have a problem.”

“I have one too. You’re bugging me on my day off, girlfriend.” Crap. She sounded like she was only half kidding. Harper wrapped her ponytail around her hand and pulled slightly. “Did war break out? Did you find the cure for cancer? World hunger?”

Okay, in the spirit of wars and famine in foreign countries, it wasn’t
that
big of a deal, first-world problems and all that.

“Trent just texted to invite me to join him at that fancy upscale bar that opened last month. Valeur, or whatever it’s called.”

“And? Did you call me because you can’t remember how to spell the word yes?”

“Drea, seriously. What the heck can I wear?” She picked at the frayed hem on a pair of faded jeans. Man, she really had been letting herself go. Ratty T-shirts and frumpy long-sleeved shirts in every color imaginable. Blending in didn’t mean she had to look like a schlump.

“Fine,” Drea said. “Meet me outside Zara in the Lincoln Road Mall in thirty.”

It was more like sixty minutes later when Drea finally showed up, but she got quickly to work, filling both their arms with things for Harper to try on.

“Holy shit,” she said, when Harper took off her shirt in the tiny changing room they were sharing. “When you said you were getting a tattoo, you weren’t kidding.”

Harper faced her. “You don’t like it?”

Harper looked over her shoulder, catching glimpses of her back in the mirror. The sword was tall and proud along her spine, the blade now completely shaded, though the handle was still an outline. The granite rocks into which it was cleft sparkled, as if reflecting the lights in the changing room. The blended reds, yellows, and oranges of the flames crawled up her right ribs; the left side, lines of faded orange ink showed where the fiery detail would appear eventually.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I mean, I saw the outline when you first got it done. And thank the Lord you didn’t need me to do that cream thing again because it was gross. It looks…” There was a long silence.

“You don’t need to like it, Drea. I get it.”

“It’s not that. I just—they mean something very different to me. I think it’s going to be sexy as hell on you, though.”

Harper studied the beautiful cut of an ivory sleeveless blouse in the three-way mirror. It was like nothing she’d ever worn before, and she was certain Trent would appreciate it.

“Joanie told me how you’ve been helping her with her classes.”

“Yeah, she’s doing great.”

“Listen, Harper, I’m not going to ask why you aren’t out doing something more with that brain of yours. If I had to guess, I’d say it has something to do with your ex and what happened. Joanie says she’s doing so much better with your support, and I wondered if you could help me?”

Harper felt guilty withholding so much information about her past from her best friend. Part of her ached to explain the truth of who she really was.

“We just found out my little cousin Milo is dyslexic, and my aunt is going out of her mind with worry. She’s thinking of getting him a tutor. I wondered if you were qualified and, you know, willing to help.”

“Of course I’ll help. I’d love to. Why don’t you get your aunt to give me a call or come see me at the shop?”

“I will. I…” Drea snapped her mouth shut and pretended to be looking for something in the pile of clothes she’d brought in.

“What? Just say what’s on your mind.” Drea had always been straight with her.

“Well, I hope you know I have your back.” Harper smiled and pulled her best friend into the first hug they’d ever shared.

Harper sniffed, and stepped back. “What do you think?” she asked with a watery smile, twirling in place.

Drea wiped a tear from under her eye. “You need a smaller size, let me go get one.”

Harper let out a deep breath and pulled a tissue from her purse, grabbing her phone as it buzzed.

Anxious to see if it was Trent, she checked the screen.

Atrophied sinister voyeurism.

Harper’s mouth went dry and her heart pounded as she stared at the message. An unknown number. Harper inhaled slowly through her nose and out through her mouth. There was no reason to get in a state over what was likely a wrong number. Very few people had her pay-as-you-go Miami cell number. The letters in the text that made up
Harper
jumped out at her. The letters of anagrams had always fallen into place for her, like alphabetical Tetris. Nathan used to say it was freaky. The best anagrams always contained fully fleshed-out words to distract the eye and make it harder to reshuffle them into new words. She could already see words and started stringing them into sentences.
Praise you in this storm. Inside the Soviet Army. A very serious person
. But none of them quite used all the letters of the text. Harper shook her head and looked away from the phone. This was silly. There were so many possible combinations. How on earth could this really mean something? She looked back.
Missed. It. Isn’t. Over. You
. And one
I
left:
Harper, I missed you. It isn’t over.

Drea flung the curtain back. “This is more your size.”

Harper dropped her phone back into her purse. It was a mistake, someone accidently misdialing or having autocorrect issues. Reading anything into it was crazy. She needed to stop imagining the worst.

*   *   *

Wow. Watching Harper walk into the club was an education.

He wasn’t really sure where to look first. From top to bottom she was one hot-looking woman. Her long dark hair had been curled into soft waves.

She’d done that smudgy thing with her eyes that chicks did, capitalizing on their natural dark green beauty. Imagining them heavy lidded while she was crawling up the bed toward him made him shake his head and reach for his beer.

She was wearing the sexiest black heels with skinny black jeans, and it took every ounce of effort to not imagine those legs wrapped around his waist. He wondered how many other pairs of spectacular shoes she had hidden in that apartment. Maybe she’d model them for him one day, in her underwear. No, naked.

He locked his gaze on her until she found him and she smiled that shy smile.

Kicking Cujo off the end of the sofa, literally, and getting a punch in the arm for his efforts, he got up and went over to her. Cupping her face with both hands, he touched her forehead with his before kissing her gently.

“Hey, baby,” he said into her ear. He wrapped his arms around her back to hug her closer.

Holy shit. Stepping back suddenly, he looked at her and grinned. Mischief sparkling in her eyes told him she’d planned this surprise just for him.

“Turn,” he mouthed. He wanted to see
all
of her—front and back.

Without saying a word, she spun around. The cream blouse had narrow straps, and while it had appeared fitted at the front, it flowed down into a backless creation that showed off her tattoo.

The outline of the sword was complete and the shading he’d finished to date hid the worst of her silver scars. Even though it was still unfinished, his work looked good on her.

Harper gazed over her shoulder and mouthed, “Surprise!”

Trent let out a laugh. A drunken idiot shoved his way between the two of them to get to the dance floor. He stumbled, then grabbed hold of Harper’s back to regain his balance.

The playfulness in Harper’s eyes vanished, panic replacing it.

Trent gripped the guy’s arm, and yanked him away from Harper. “You need to watch where you’re going there, friend.”