Harper gave a soft snort of amusement. “Damn fucking right I am.” They talked about general things as they finished breakfast. After that, she cleaned and dressed Asher. While he played with Tanner, she tried calling Devon. It wasn’t a total surprise that the female didn’t answer. It still hurt.
A little later, Keenan turned up at the house. As he played on the rug with Asher, she and Tanner filled him in on what had happened the night before. Relaying the tale and reliving each moment of it rekindled the anger she’d somehow managed to let go of the night before. Now, it was back with a vengeance, leaving her restless. Twitchy. Her fingers tingled with the urge to do something—anything.
An hour later, when she could take it no more, she pushed up from the sofa and declared, “I’m going for a drive.”
Looking up at her from where he was sprawled on the sofa with a napping Asher on his lap, Keenan frowned. “A drive?”
“Yes.”
Tanner stood. “All right. Let’s go.”
“No, I mean I need to go for a drive,” she said. “You can come, but I’m driving.”
“Fine,” said Tanner, because his expression was pained.
“Asher and I will be okay here,” Keenan assured her.
She nodded. “I won’t be long.”
She’d driven Tanner’s Audi a few times and, as usual, he handed over the keys with a whole lot of reluctance. If her mood hadn’t been so grim, she might have smiled at the way he awkwardly settled in the passenger seat … as if finding it weird to have a woman driving him around. Maybe it was an alpha male thing or something.
The Audi was a total dream to drive. Smooth and easy. She missed driving. She’d had her driver’s license revoked due to her impatience with traffic lights, unpaid parking tickets, and speed restrictions. But she was a damn good driver, so it didn’t seem fair. Having a chauffeur was great and all, but there was something relaxing about sitting behind the wheel of a car and just going for a drive.
Tanner didn’t speak as they journeyed around Vegas, as if sensing that she needed the time to just lose herself in what she was doing—not think or dwell or brood. Just be.
She didn’t even realize she’d been heading toward her old studio in North Las Vegas until she found herself turning onto the street where it was situated. She pulled to a stop outside the building, which was now a hair salon. It made her remember a time when things were different. Simpler in some ways. A time when things were easy between her and the girls.
A time before Knox.
She didn’t regret meeting him. Didn’t regret accepting him as her anchor or taking him as her mate. Definitely didn’t regret having Asher. She just hadn’t envisioned herself ever being in a situation where she may have to choose between him and one of the girls.
“You think Devon’s going to partially blame you for what happened to Drew?” asked Tanner, correctly guessing where her jumbled thoughts had taken her.
Harper sighed. “I don’t know. But she’s not taking my calls.”
“Maybe she doesn’t trust herself not to say something that will fuck things up in a way that they can never be fixed.”
“According to Jolene, she thinks Knox overreacted.”
Tanner snorted. “If anything, Knox underreacted.”
“I know that.”
“So does Devon. She’s not stupid. But she is emotional. Drew’s her brother; she’s protective of him and will naturally be pissed at anyone who harms him. That’s the way it should be. Give her time.”
Knowing he was right, Harper nodded. As she took a deep, centering breath, the scent of coffee filtered through the open window and filled her lungs. The smell came from the café across the street—a café that she and the girls had frequented once upon a time. “I feel like a vanilla latte. You want anything?”
Tanner glanced at the café. “Is this a good idea? That place is run by the sister of your human ex-boyfriend, right?”
“What’s your point?”
He just sighed. “I’ll have a cappuccino.”
With a nod, she hopped out of the car and headed into the café. There was a line but she didn’t mind waiting; she liked being surrounded by the scents of coffee beans, spices, fresh desserts, and even acrid burned coffee.
Around her, people were sat at bistro tables—drinking, eating, talking, reading, working on their laptops. She could hear dishware clattering, the whirr of machines, and music playing low in the background. The line moved at a steady pace, thankfully, so—
“Harper?”