Fight or Flight

In her right ear were multiple piercings. As a pastry chef in one of Boston’s best restaurants, she wore only studs and tiny hoops. Three close-to-the-skin hoops on the bottom and then five studs up along the cuff of her ear, each a different-colored stone that winked and sparkled when the light caught it. In her left ear was only a hoop and a stud.

Right now, on her day off, she wore gold rings on nearly all her fingers, some that sat below the knuckle and others above.

I thought of Harper as a glamorous punk. She liked edgy, but she liked her edginess to glitter and sparkle. Today she wore skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees, biker boots, and a cropped T-shirt covered in rose gold sequins that reflected light everywhere she turned.

She was the most beautiful person I’d ever met—on the inside as well as the outside—but because of her past she had a hard time believing it. Yet it was exactly because of her past that I admired her so much. Harper had been through the unimaginable and yet she didn’t let it affect who she was. Someone outspoken, opinionated, open-minded, brave, loyal, and determined. She’d left home at eighteen with very little money, had been just a step up from homeless when I met her … and now she was the pastry chef in the only Michelin-star restaurant in Boston.

“Ava? An epic one-night stand?”

“Huh?” The sound of her voice pulled me out of my musings.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrugged. “I just missed you.”

She gave me a sad smile, her dimples appearing and disappearing so quickly it was almost like I’d imagined them. “I wish I’d gone with you.”

Thinking about my trip back to Arizona made me want to curl up in a dark room and not leave for a good long while. Instead, I shrugged it off with a joke. “And have you cockblock me? No, thanks.”

Harper chuckled. “I wouldn’t have.”

“He would have taken one look at you and forgotten me entirely.”

She snorted. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

“No, really.” I studied her, thinking I wasn’t wrong. “You are probably more this guy’s type.”

“How so?”

“Uh … he looked like something off that show … Vikings. He was covered in tattoos. And his hair was a guy version of yours.”

Her lips parted in shock. Again. “No. Way.”

“Yes way.”

“Not exactly your type.”

“Nope. And I wasn’t his. We didn’t even like each other,” I admitted. “He was so rude and obnoxious, had no manners …”

“But …?”

I huffed in exasperation. “My body disagreed with me. I can’t explain it … the attraction was inexplicable but explosive and … he found my G-spot.”

Amazement brightened Harper’s eyes. “He sounds like a god.”

“A Norse god. A bastard. An asshole. But the man sure knows what he’s doing in the bedroom.”

“Do you think we could find him and have him teach Vince about the G-spot thing?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you and Vince were good?”

Vince was the guy Harper had been dating for the last two months, which was a long time for her. Like me, she didn’t trust people easily. Plus, her job might sound fancy, but it entailed a lot of long hours and none of the men she’d met so far had been able to deal with the fact that Harper’s job came first. Vince was different. He was a drummer in a local band that had found some success playing bars and clubs all over Massachusetts. He seemed to understand her dedication and admire it. I liked him.

“We are and the sex is good … but G-spot? I’ve only met one guy who found that.” She wiggled her fingers suggestively.

I laughed and blushed a little. “He didn’t find it with those.”

She gasped. “Oh my God … how … what?”

I buried my face in my hands, embarrassed but amused. “I’m not giving you details.”

She understood the muffled words and cried, “I need details!”

“Oh Lord.” I dropped my hands and looked up at the ceiling, unable to meet her gaze. “He—he—”

“Stop stuttering. He what?”

“He just … he positioned me … you know, at an angle, and, well … he knew what he was doing, okay,” I rushed out, my cheeks burning with mortification. I told Harper pretty much everything, but an explanatory description of how I reached orgasm was crossing a line I didn’t want to cross.

She eyed me in awe. “I have to meet this man.”

“No, you don’t.” I stood up with my empty wineglass and strolled over to my kitchen to put it in the sink.

“You’re telling me that you met a guy who was that great in bed and you don’t want to see him again?”

The truth was that part of me did, but his words from the plane came back to me and I hated that they had the power to hurt me even a little. I glanced over at her. “He wanted to, you know. See me again while he was here. I said no because I didn’t think it was smart. And you know what he said? He told me not to worry about it, that there were plenty of beautiful women in Boston and he wouldn’t be lonely.”

Anger suffused Harper’s pretty features. “That asshole!” She stood up, her hands going to her hips. “Who the hell does he think he is? Does he not know that he was lucky he even got near you? You’re Ava Breevort. There is no one better than you.”

Warmth and gratitude flooded my chest. “Except Harper Lee Smith.”

The left side of her mouth pulled up into a rueful grin. “What have I told you about full-naming me.”

“Oh, I thought that was only in public.” She thought her mother naming her after the author of To Kill a Mockingbird was too cutesy and did not at all reflect her personality.

I loved her name. I thought it suited her.

“Whatever. Back to the Scottish guy. You’re right … he sounds completely unworthy.”

“It’s almost a sin, you know, that someone that gorgeous and sexually gifted is so unlikable.”

“You really didn’t like him?”

“I mean … he was smart. CFO of Koto. And witty. Plus, like I told you, he stopped those annoying guys in the restaurant from harassing me. I guess he wasn’t all bad … but he was fundamentally rude to almost everyone he came in contact with, and he was mean to me. I was mean to him too but … I thought we maybe just had this insulting banter thing going on. But I was wrong. There’s a coldness about him. High spiked barriers on that one.”

“Well, you know something about barriers.”

“Yes, but I’m generally not mean or ill-mannered to people because of them. Unless provoked.”

“True.” She rounded my coffee table and came to stand by the kitchen counter. “At least it distracted you from Gemma, though, right?”

I winced, reminded of my time in Arcadia.

“Nick had no right to say those things to you—you know that, don’t you?”

I looked away, staring at the large bay window in my living room that looked down onto tree-lined Mount Vernon Street. “I know. I do know that. But I still feel guilty. I can’t help it.”

Suddenly I was pulled into a deep hug. Harper was a couple of inches taller than me, so I could rest my head on her small shoulder and hold on tight. We were from two entirely different worlds, two entirely different people, but years ago she’d stepped in to protect me when I was a stranger, and from that moment on I’d vowed to protect her back.

But these days it felt like she was saving me.

I hugged her tight before stepping out of her arms. “I’m okay,” I assured her.

“Promise?”

I nodded. “I just need to get back to work and back to my life.”

“Hmm.” She eyed me carefully. “Have your parents called to check that you got home safe?”

I made a face and shook my head. At Harper’s answering expression of contempt, I sought to remind her, “Harper, don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”