“Yeah, again, you never know when we’ll get the chance to clean them again. I’m what you call, ‘opportunistic’.”
“I can relate.” She sighed. “Trust me, I can relate.”
“How about this,” I offered. “We shower and all that jazz, get ready for Cherry’s show, take our stuff and do a load, then head to The Bowery.”
“Deal. I’ll go first so I can dry my hair.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“Never lived with a girl before?”
“Actually, no,” I said thoughtfully, just now realizing the truth of that.
“Alright, go.”
“Thank you, Callum.”
“Of course. Think nothing of it.”
“No, thank you.”
I nodded as she traipses off to the bathroom.
Once I heard the shower running, I sat on Charlie’s sofa and picked up the book he was reading before he left, face down to save his page. I started reading the first paragraph. The main character, Elliott, professed his life and his love for this girl named Jules. Pretty good, but not my flavor, if you catch my drift. I prefer non-fiction. When I heard Charlie’s blow dryer start, I smiled, thankful that the doofus had long enough hair that he could supply Harper with what she needed to tend to her own silky strands.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened. Still sitting, I glanced up, full intending to return to my page but was struck dumb. The book slid from my grip, spilling to the floor. I had to remind myself that she was standing there, expecting me to speak but was literally driven mute.
Harper stood under the door frame, her feet were clad in black combat boots but she pulled them off well with a horizontal stripe black and white floor length cotton dress that painted every curve of her body. Modest. Modest yet sexy as hell. Her lengthy locks flowed to her waist and curved at the ends.
But the show stopper were the eyes. Those incredible eyes I could spot from a mile away, sharp and almost a translucent gold.
“Good God, Harper. I can’t go out with you looking like that,” I blurted.
She set both hands on her hips, “And why the heck not?”
“Because I’ll be in jail before Cherry can even go on. I’ll have to fight off every bloke who tries to talk to you. No, you have to change. You’re going to get me in trouble,” I said, sincere as I’ve ever been.
It was true. I couldn’t step out of Charlie’s flat with her looking like that, not if I didn’t feel like leaving her side wearing a pair of handcuffs. Also, now, I’d never admit to this out loud, but I wanted to slide my hands down every curve she owned, every striped covered curve.
Harper laughed. “Oh, I get it. Ha, ha, Callum. You think you’re so funny. Now, you better tell me that I look nice or we’re going to have issues because this is all I have and it matters to me to look good, for you...I mean, I don’t want to embarrass you,” she covered up.
I wonder if handcuffs come in my size. Surely, they’re one size fits all. “Harper, you look incredible.”
A slow smile crept across her mouth and she nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you. Now, you’re turn.”
The Bowery was the busiest I’d ever seen it. Chris was working the door and we were on the list so we were able to bypass the seemingly mile long line.
“Chris, what’s up, man?”
“Callum Tate! Long time no see. What’ve you been up to?”
“Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that.”
Chris eyed Harper up and down. “I can see that.”
I furrowed my brows and tried to overcome the screaming voice inside my head telling me to kick this acquaintance in the chest. Instead, I said through gritted teeth, “Chris, this is Harper. Harper, Chris.” The freaking introductions lately.
They shook hands and I had to quell the urge to snatch her hand from his grasp. Get a hold of yourself, Tate. Jeez, man.
“A pleasure,” Harper said with a charming smile.
Chris held his arm out after crossing our names off the list, gesturing us inside. I grabbed Harper by the arm and pulled her close to my body. This served many purposes. It sent a clear message to Chris, it kept her safe because The Bowery was packed, and, well, it just brought her close to my body. I loved being near her. Careful, Callum.
“What time is it?” She yelled in my ear.
“Ten fifteen. Cherry doesn’t goes on for another forty-five minutes,” I yelled back, digging the proximity the band currently playing was forcing us to take.
“‘Kay. Hey,” she yelled, leaning in closely, “this band blows. Let’s find some place to talk while we wait.”
Just what I wanted to be, alone with Harper Bailey.
But that was not going to happen because the second we stepped onto the rooftop I lead her to, although the music was dulled and the breeze was wonderful, Cherry, her band mates and a few of our friends were already there, as if in waiting. You can’t turn around and drag Harper with you, Callum. When they saw us coming, they whooped and hollered, thoroughly embarrassing me.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cherry started, rising and bowing at her engrossed crowd, “if I may have your attention, please! Introducing, for your entertainment, a one mister Callum Tate and his lovely assistant, Harper!”
The dramatic group all rose to their feet and clapped at our approach.
“I’m sorry about this,” I whispered at Harper but she only laughed. “Thank you! Thank you!” I make a slight bow myself.