When his fingers brushed gently under the hem, he couldn’t resist. “You leaving these on today, Harper?” he whispered, so close to her mouth that his lips brushed hers as he spoke.
Truth be told, he was desperate to see her without them. One less item of clothing between him and the Promised Land.
A soft blush passed over her dewy skin, tempting him, and he stole a quick kiss.
“Trent,” she whispered, glancing over at Cujo and Lia. She grabbed his hand, which was still moving under the hem.
Loving that he could embarrass her like that, he smiled.
“No one is paying us any mind.” Leaning over her, he kissed her softly. “Let me pull them down for you, darlin’,” he murmured softly against her lips. “You know you want me to.”
Reaching between them, he unbuttoned them and slowly pulled down the zipper, brushing against her stomach with his knuckles as he lowered it.
He groaned as he was hit in the ribs by a perfect football shot from Cujo, who was now sitting up on his towel. “Get a fucking room, dude.”
Harper’s eyes went wide, and her flush deepened.
With a quick wink to her, he launched himself at his friend and took him down on the sand.
“Oh my God, you are such boys!” Lia shrieked, shaking sand from inside her paperback.
They continued to wrestle, rolling over the blankets.
Cujo finally gave up. “Uncle.”
Harper pulled some papers out of her bag. He loved the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating and how energized and excited she sounded when she talked about helping her friend, Joanie.
As he walked toward the water to wash off the sand, he wished he could just drag Harper with him, but her tattoo was not even close to being healed. It would be close to the end of the summer by the time all the appointments would be done and the two-to-three-week healing stage passed.
It was great to see her in a tiny tank top with the top of the tattoo just showing above it. She was always so buttoned up in long sleeves. She looked younger today, more carefree. He couldn’t wait for her tattoo to be healed enough that she could show it off.
He should buy her the black-and-white polka-dot bikini she wanted. It would look great with her tattoo and the new tan she was developing. More beach days were required. Or time on his condo balcony, perfect for a little afternoon delight.
Diving into the water helped cool his desire, and get rid of the hard-on that had been growing at the thought of her in a two-piece.
Going slowly was killing him, but there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in his mind that the clever and quick-witted woman wrapped up in that sexy body was worth it. The truth was, he was enjoying having to work for it.
He turned in the water to look at her. Harper put the papers down and flipped onto her stomach, shorts off, her pert ass visible to everyone. He could only hope the wait would be over soon.
* * *
Abercrombie boys had nothing on these men. All of them were cut. Cujo with his tall, muscular frame, bald head, and piercing blue eyes. Eric with his athletic runner’s build and dirty blond hair. And Trent.
The brief flash she’d had of him that first night at the studio had been nothing but a teaser.
He had a goodness-knows-how-many pack and those crazy V-things that led down to the places that currently seemed to be occupying her dreams. In board shorts that hung low on his hips, he was every girl’s fantasy. Watching him walk up the beach, dripping wet and smoothing his dark hair back with both hands so his biceps and pecs flexed, made her tingle all over.
He flopped down on his towel in front of her and rested his head on her stomach. She ran her fingers through his incredibly dark hair as the sun dried it back to soft, messy waves.
Harper had never felt more alive. It was perfect—the sound of gulls flying over the crystal blue water, the hot sun on her skin, Trent’s soft seductive touches as they lazed together.
“As much as I don’t want to interrupt this,” he said, his voice low, “can you put some sunscreen on me?”
She poured some into her hands and rubbed them together.
Trent sat up, and Harper knelt behind him, her thighs tight against his hips.
His skin was warm as she smeared the cream across his shoulders, taking more than a moment to admire his muscles before dropping lower. She hadn’t had the chance to check out the rest of his tattoos up close before. They were spectacular.
“Tell me more about your tattoo.”
“What do you want to know?” Trent asked lazily, stroking his fingers down the top of one of her thighs.
“What they mean. Like what does the one on your back stand for?” Her hands made slow and steady progress, rubbing the cream in lower and lower. It looked a bit like a mountainous landscape with angels leading humans up to the summit.
“Purgatory.”
“And this”—she stroked her hands over a beautiful couple embracing—“looks, well, incredible.”
“My mom used to tell me the reason The Divine Comedy is interesting is because it shows how love is connected to everything. The seven terraces on the Mountain of Purgatory reflect each of the seven sins. People end up there because of their love of something considered unholy.”
She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder.
Trent quickly turned his head and captured her lips, laughing as he caught her off guard.
“Yeah, it’s a bit weird, right? Dante wanted to show that the love that comes from God is pure but that when it gets into our hands, we have a tendency to screw it up. Love can be abused by us mere mortals. Like love too strong could be lust. Or love, when abused, can drive a guy to wrath.”
His words hit very close to home. Harper nudged him forward again so she could take a closer look. There were so many details to take in. She could see elements of the story she remembered.
“Who did it for you?”
“Junior. He found Cujo and me when we were thirteen, spraying the back of his studio with a dollar-store aerosol can.”
Harper laughed. “You were a child vandal. I can see that somehow.”
“Yeah … all Cujo’s fault … the worst trouble I ever got into was with him. But Junior taught me everything I know. He did all of this over two years, as soon as I was old enough.”
“Well, he did a spectacular job. I wish I could have met him.”
“Me too. He was something else. Half my size, but could kick my ass from here to New York. If I can be half as good as he was, I’ll be happy.”
Harper put her arms around Trent’s waist, leaning against his back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his skin. His hands covered hers.
“It’s all good. Junior had time to make his peace with the world before he went, and man did he have the craziest life. He gave me three amazing gifts—my ink, the Road Runner, and a career I love. All things considered, I love the guy.”
Harper had a feeling that, from everything she had heard, Junior had felt the same way about the highly loveable man sitting in front of her.
Trent pulled her arms tight around his front and sighed. The sun had turned the sea into a sparkling aquamarine. Parents ran by the waterline, chasing toddlers covered in melted Popsicles and carrying little plastic buckets. Couples walked hand in hand, stopping periodically to kiss each other or to simply stare into each other’s eyes.
“This feels good,” Trent said, turning to her with a soft smile, “if you know what I mean.” She did because she felt it too.
“It’s normal,” she said, kissing him softly.
“I like normal. I’m good with all the other stuff we’ve got to work through, but normal can be pretty spectacular. Just being here with you, on a beautiful day. This feels good.”
For the first time in years, Harper allowed herself to think maybe everything was going work out the way it was supposed to.
Cujo grabbed them pizza for dinner, complemented by the beers everyone was drinking clandestinely from plast
ic cups—everyone but Trent, her personal designated driver. The festival was in full swing now, and the crowd was growing larger. The music blasting from the main stage down the beach inspired Pixie and Lia to drag Harper up to dance, even though she preferred not to.
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 minut
es 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.”
The Strongest Steel Page 13