Harper
Okay. You can do this. I throw my shoulders back and walk on Scott’s arm, exuding confidence. At least, I think I’m exuding confidence. I’ve never been anybody’s fake date before.
“You don’t have to smile like that. Your face will break in half,” he whispers to me, his arm shaking with repressed laughter.
Okay, so, not so confident then. I’m a little embarrassed, but I think my smile’s genuine now. “I don’t want to screw this up for you,” I confess.
“If you do, you can make it up to me by letting me buy you dinner sometime,” he murmurs back.
My spirits perk up at that possibility. I mean, the chemistry between us is undeniable. “How about, if I screw up, I buy you dinner, and if I knock it out of the park, you can buy me dinner?”
Scott engulfs my hand with his warm, rough palm. “Works for me.”
When we enter the church, a gray-haired woman in a floral dress spots us and rushes over. “Scott! Thank heavens. I was almost afraid you’d miss the wedding!”
“Mom, I’m still fifteen minutes early,” he replies with a chuckle.
“Yes, well, you’re just lucky the family pictures are after the service, young man,” she says, shaking her finger at him. Then she spots me. “Oh my, is this her?”
He lets go of my hand to slide his arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. “This is her.”
“Oh, my dear, you are lovely.” His mother takes my hands in hers. “Scott’s been awfully secretive about you. He says you’ve been dating for months, but does he introduce you to his mother? Hmph. He hasn’t even told us your name!”
“Harper,” I say, giving him the side-eye. It’d have been nice to be prepared for this scenario but I smile anyway. “It’s my fault. I didn’t want to meet the family until we were sure things were serious.” Take that, Scott Bauer!
He has a coughing fit.
“Oh, dear, you’re not getting sick, are you?” His mother puts her hand to his forehead, though it requires the diminutive woman to go all the way up on her tip-toes.
“I’m fine, Mom. Wrong tube, that’s all,” he says.
“Well, take a lozenge just the same. It has Vitamin C.” She fishes in her clutch and pulls out a cough drop.
He takes it and starts to put it in his pocket, but she clucks her tongue at him. “It’s not going to do a lot of good in there.”
“Here,” I chime in, taking the lozenge from him. “Let me help.” I unwrap it and pop it between his surprised lips.
His mother beams. “What a sweet girl you are. Please, call me Marjory.”
“Marjory, it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” I respond. “Seeing what a nice person you are now, I wish I’d asked him to introduce us sooner!”
She blushes. “You’re such a dear. All right, let’s get ourselves seated.”
One of the two ushers shows us to a pew on the bride’s side. As we sit down, Scott begins to crunch down on the lozenge.
His mother rolls her eyes. “Scott, dearest, what good is it going to do if you don’t suck on it?” She dives into her purse again.
“Yes, honey, what good is it going to do if you don’t suck on it?” I ask innocently.
He chokes for real this time.
The man next to Marjory, who I assume is Scott’s father, reaches over and pounds him on the back. “Swallow, then breathe, son.”
Scott’s eyes are streaming, but he manages a nod.
Marjory comes up with another lozenge. “Here you are, dearest. This time, suck on it. It doesn’t work unless you suck on it until it’s done.”
A thousand dirty thoughts cross my mind, and I’m sure all of them are reflecting in my eyes as Scott takes the new lozenge. He ends his last cough on a gulp, then pops the lozenge in his mouth.
“Remember,” I tease in his ear. “You have to suck on it until it’s ‘done.’”
“I am so getting you back for this,” he murmurs, the lozenge clicking against his teeth.
“I’m looking forward to it.” I grin.
The music starts, and we put our friendly war aside. For now.
I expected the ceremony would be beautiful. I didn’t expect to get teary-eyed at the I do’s, but hell, I’m an artist. Sometimes things just affect me.
“Oh, my dear, here you go,” Marjory says between her own sobs, handing me a tissue.
I dab my eyes. Scott squeezes my hand, giving me the most tender look. At least he doesn’t think I’m hamming it up. I like that he knows I’m being sincere.
After the bride and groom kiss and make their way down the aisle, we all start filtering out, passing through the receiving line. I get to Scott’s cousin Janet, the bride, and she stops me, gripping my hand. “You’re Scott’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply, nervously watching the guests build up behind me. “I’m Harper.”
“I’m Janet. Well, you probably know that already. I love your dress,” she says, looking me up and down. “You are so pretty!”
“Not as pretty as you. You look amazing,” I gush back. A bride should always be the prettiest one around on her wedding day.
She smiles, making her look positively radiant. “It took hours. But I think I turned out all right. You’ve been dating Scott for a few months, right?”
The line has become a traffic jam behind me. “Yeah, a few months. Um… shouldn’t you be greeting the other guests? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Pfft. They can wait. It’s my wedding day.” She winks at me. “Scott never told me what you do. Are you a student? You look awfully young. Scott is thirty-one, you know?”
“Uh, I’m older than I look. Twenty-five,” I reply. “I have a Master’s degree and everything. I’m an artist. Mostly, I work in oil paint.”
Janet squeals. “That is so cool!”
“Janet,” Scott interjects. “You really do have to greet the other guests before they start to mutiny.”
She huffs at him but finally lets go of my hand. “We’ll talk later,” she promises me.
“Sure, sounds great.” I let Scott hustle me along through the rest of the line and out to his pick-up.
“My family really likes you.” He smiles at me.
“Yeah, thanks for the heads up,” I snort.
He blushes. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you.”
“Big thing to miss.” I give him an evil smile. “Did you suck on it until it was ‘done’?”
“Oh, baby,” he purrs back as he starts the truck. “I’m just getting started.” He winks at me, and my stomach tightens into a ball of fire.
Oh my.
* * *
Scott
I’ve never been as bold in my life as I am with Harper. That lozenge banter was something I don’t know whether to thank or curse my mother for because, not only am I thinking about things I could be sucking on instead of a lozenge, but I’m thinking about things Harper could be sucking on as well. Fuck, there is nothing I’d like better than tangling my hand in that ocean of rose gold waves while she bobs up and down on my dick.
“Problem again?” Harper asks innocently as we pull into the parking lot for the Wexford at Emerald Greens Golf Course.
I look down at the bulge in my pants and shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “Guess so.”
“I guess I’m leaving you in the truck then,” she teases, starting to open her door.
I reach across her to close it. The scent of lilacs tickles my nose and does not help my situation one bit. “You really want to go in there without me? My family will be all over you.”
Harper taps her chin as though she’s considering it.
“Please,” I beg. “Don’t leave me here like this.”
“I won’t. I was just kidding,” she replies. She looks down at my bulge again.
“Harper, that’s not helping.” I sigh.
“Sorry.” She looks out the window as the other guests get out of their cars and head into the venue. “We can’t stay out here forever. Can’t you think of granny panties or something?”
“Even if you were wearing granny panties, I’d still want you,” I murmur, knowing I’m being too forward but not able to stop myself.
She smiles at me, which only makes the situation worse. Then she starts fumbling in her purse.
“Please don’t be going for a lozenge,” I groan.
“I’m not.” Instead, Harper pulls out a sealed packet of tissues.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that for? Are you afraid the reception’s going to get to you too?”
“It probably will,” she replies. “But that’s not what I’m pulling them out for.” She peels open the packet and pulls out three tissues.
“What are you…?” I ask, then trail off. “Harper, if you’re thinking of helping me out, you have to know, you really don’t have to do that.”
She flashes me a coy smile. “I know I don’t have to, and I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of a slut who usually does shit like this on the first date. But you and I have a connection, don’t we?” She sets the tissues aside.
I nod, unable to speak at the moment as her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip.
“Well, then, Scott, if you’re willing, I’m happy to help you out.”
“Okay…” I manage to verbalize. My eyes just about bugging out of my head as Harper reaches over and unzips my pants.
“Damn, this problem is bigger than I thought,” she mumbles, fishing my dick out of my boxers.
I can’t breathe. “Shit!”
Harper grips my cock and starts stroking it from base to tip. At first, I manage to take a look around the parking lot, noting we’re secluded, but then, I can’t concentrate on anything else at all. This girl is amazing, and I really want to kiss her while she strokes my cock, but I also don’t want to interfere.
“Oh… God… Harper…” I moan, my head arching back against the headrest.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me,” she murmurs, sliding her hand faster and harder up and down my shaft.
I grab the tissue from the console just in time to keep my pants and her dress from getting cum-stained. “Fuuuuuck.”
She releases my dick. “There. Problem solved.”
I’m still panting and seeing sparks at the edge of my vision. “Holy fuck.”
“Ready to go in now?” she asks.
I swallow hard. “Just give me a minute. Some sexy lady just had her hand on my dick.”
“Wonder who that could have been?” She grins.
Once I’m calm and have put myself back together, we’re able to trickle in with the last of the guests into the Wexford.
“There you are!” Janet pounces on us the minute we’re inside. “I’ve been wanting to do the bouquet toss.”
“Before dinner?” I ask, confused.
“The caterer went to the wrong venue, so we’re making it up as we go until they get here,” Janet confides.
“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” I reply.
Janet shrugs. “Weddings, am I right?” She waves Harper over to the gaggle of other women waiting for the bouquet toss. “One… two…” she calls with her back turned.
I know it’s a setup the second Janet yells, “THREE!” and the women all part to the sides. Except a very confused Harper who is left holding the bouquet.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Janet squeals as though this is a surprise. “Now, if only Scott could catch the garter.”
I sigh inwardly as Conner, Janet’s husband, winks at me. I’m definitely going to be catching the garter, whether I want to or not. But then, everyone thinks Harper and I have been dating for a few months. They think this is a cute way to get us ‘thinking about the future.’
Before I know it, garter banded around my arm, I’m dancing with Harper, the bouquet clutched between our joined hands.
“I thought the bride and groom were supposed to have the first dance,” Harper whispers to me as “Love Me Tender” plays over the DJ’s loudspeakers.
“Janet is nothing if not unconventional and a hopeless romantic,” I reply. Tired of the hard stems between our hands, I twirl us past a nearby table and drop the bouquet onto it. “For that matter, they may have danced before we even came inside.”
“That’s true.” She gives me a nefarious grin. Then, to my surprise, Harper lays her head on my shoulder. “Thanks for putting the flowers down. That thing was getting uncomfortable.”
“I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.” I smile down at her. “Though, I do have a question.”
She looks up. “What question?”
“How would you feel about staying at my place tonight?” I ask. Or rather blurt. I grimace. Smooth, Scott. Real smooth.
Harper regards me with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she grins. “Well, I don’t think either of us have sucked on it until it’s ‘done’ yet.”
I bark out a laugh. “Is that a yes?”
She goes up on her toes and presses those perfect pink lips against mine. I gasp and press her to open, which she does. When we finally come up for air, she murmurs, “What do you think?”
HarperOh, my God! I can’t believe I just said that! I stare into the mirror in the bathroom, shocked by my own boldness.Harper Ward would never have agreed to that proposition. And with such a dirty remark!But then, maybe ArtIsMyLife33 would?Somebody agreed to go home with Scott and suck his dick. Or I at least implied I was going to.The chicken in me thinks of backing out. Scott would be polite about it, I know. The part of me who hasn’t been with a man in the six months since I broke up with that controlling asshole Jack? That part wants to ride that big cock I saw in the truck, right into the sunset.I lock eyes with myself. “Who are you?” I murmur.The door slams open, and two drunk, giggling guests come into the restroom. “Oh, my God, did you see Scott? He is still so dreamy.”“Too bad he’s taken,” the other says.Neither of them notice me, and I decide to keep it that way by slipping into a bathroom stall.“Jessie says he is so good in bed. She says she’s never had anything
Harper“You slept with him?!” McKenzy’s jaw goes slack. It’s the next morning, and we’ve finally gotten a chance to talk. When I got home the night before, I took a shower and crashed. Hard.“Announce it to the whole apartment complex, why don’t you?” I hiss. “And yes. I slept with him. It was amazing.”“Amazing? It says on the website you don’t have to do the whole escort thing!” she says. “Did we forget the website?”I snort. “I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I wanted to. We really hit it off.”“I’ll say. You slept with him on the first date. And it wasn’t even a proper date!” She all but wails.“Dramatic much? You’ve done it before,” I remind her.“Yeah, but you’re not me.” McKenzy paces around me, looking me up and down. She pinches my arm.“Hey!” I gripe.She nods. “Okay, so I’m not dreaming.”“You’re supposed to pinch yourself!” I pinch her back.“Ouch! Fine, fine, okay. We can be super sluts together then. But honestly, Harper, you need to stop copying me. I’m sure yo
DamienWhat an unexpected pleasure. I watch Harper’s cheeks flush as our shoulders touch in the limo. Honestly, I should be sitting further away from her. There’s plenty of seating in the limo’s expansive back section after all. But since I first laid eyes on her, I’ve been utterly captivated.Today, I just wanted someone who checked all the right boxes for the dress. Tonight, I’m realizing I might have found someone who checks all the right boxes for me.“Have you been to an art gallery opening before?” I ask conversationally, my hand still boldly laid over hers. I’m not a man who lets what he wants get away.She swallows, and it draws my attention to the elegant lines of her neck. “No, Damien. I haven’t.”“I think you’ll find it rather entertaining,” I continue. “Especially given your art background. Or am I making too many assumptions about your username? Are you an art history major?”Harper pauses, then admits, “I’m an artist. Mostly a painter.”Intriguing. “Really? Then again, I
HarperThe rest of the evening is a blur. Michael has to circulate, of course, but he comes back to Damien and me frequently to check in. He asks where I’m showing my work. I blush and say, “The Witch’s Brew coffee shop on Lake Street in Minneapolis.”Michael grins at me. “A perfect place to start.”“You’ll have to give some pieces to a proper gallery now, though. People will be wondering where to find your work,” Damien whispers in my ear.“Because you announced it in front of the press!” I reply.Damien gives me an innocent look. “Did I do that?”I squeeze his arm in gratitude, and he laughs.It’s late by the time we leave Michael, Julian and the rest of Damien’s acquaintances at the gallery. I can’t help but note that Damien didn’t call any of them his friends.“Do your friends not attend gallery openings?” I ask.Damien winces at me. “Caught that, did you? I don’t have a lot of friends, Harper. A man like me makes a lot of enemies. I do have one good friend, Laurence Killian, but
HarperI cry out, pleasure radiating through my body as Damien reaches around and thumbs my clit in time with his hard, deep thrusts.“How does it feel, little red bird?” he asks as he makes me come again.“S-So good.” My teeth chatter, and my knees are weak.He forces a third orgasm out of my body. Then a fourth. And still he doesn’t cum.“Damien,” I beg. “Please.” Damien must be close. I know he has to be close. “Please, Damien, cum inside me!”“Mmm, my good girl.” He slaps my ass, and my whole body tenses. I come again, and this time, as my body spasms around him, he finally grunts a few times and joins me.He groans, and his whole body shudders, but he’s still holding me up when my knees give out and I would have slid down the glass. He keeps pumping in and out of me until both our tremors cease.I can’t believe I just fucked a billionaire! I look back over my shoulder, and Damien is giving me a dirty look, as though he can read my mind.“Do you always last that long?” I ask him.
HarperOn Thursday, I get another ding on my phone from At a Loose End. I sigh. If it weren’t for the fact I haven’t been paid for my date with Damien yet, I’d have taken down my profile by now. I need that payment to process and hit my bank account!I look at my screen. Tomás. He’s offering less than anyone else I’ve dated for me to go with him to a quinceañera on Saturday. I know I should decline, but a message pings right away, and I feel compelled to read what he has to say.EspanolEsVida1: I know I haven’t offered a lot, but please hear me out @ArtIsMyLife33. My ex-wife is going to be at my niece’s quinceañera this Saturday, and she’s bringing a date. I absolutely, positively have to bring a younger, hotter date. I know that sounds shallow, but this woman destroyed my life. She destroyed me. She cheated, and my niece still wants her at her quinceañera. I’m desperate. Help!Thinking back on what Rafe did to me, I am galvanized into action.ArtIsMyLife33: Please, call me Harper. An
HarperIt feels just like old times. Except, instead of sitting in a beat-up old Corolla, we’re peeling through the city streets in a brand new red Ferrari.Rafe guides my hand expertly on the stick shift, his hand warm on mine, his strong fingers fitting right where they used to.“How’ve you been, Harper?” he asks. “How’s the painting going?”“I just actually had a big break,” I reply. ‘So, that’s been nice. I might be getting busy pretty soon.”“But not too busy to see me.” He gives me puppy-dog eyes.“No,” I reply softly. “Not too busy to see you.”He grins as we pull into the parking lot behind a sports bar. It looks like a bit of a dive, but then, he used to like those. Especially when people started to recognize him from college football. These types of places, nobody bothered him.Rafe takes off his seatbelt, then leans over to undo mine, following it all the way to the other side of my body. I can feel his breath on my cheek. He smells the same, like musk and the same cologne
HarperScott Bauer: Hey, Harper. What are you doing this weekend?I roll over and look at my phone. My adrenaline spikes with both excitement and trepidation. It’s Scott!We haven’t corresponded all week, and this is the first time I’m realizing it. I am such a bad girlfriend.Potential girlfriend.Hey, wait, why hasn’t he texted me before now?I might be a little indignant, actually.Harper Ward: Hey, stranger. How’ve you been?Scott Bauer: Missing you. *cheese emoji*I laugh.Harper Ward: LOL, liar. You been busy?Scott Bauer: *pouty face emoji* I really have missed you. But yeah, busy. Some asshole crop duster was a little off on his aim and sprayed pesticides on a small area of the farm.I wince, and text back quickly.Harper Ward: Oh, Scott, I’m so sorry. That sucks big time.Scott Bauer: Yeah, well, I had to rip out that crop. It’s all fix
*Scott*Harper’s been acting different all afternoon. It’s subtle enough that most people would miss it, but I know her too well. She’s smiling too tightly, laughing with a little too much energy, fidgeting in the way she only does when she’s trying to hide something. I could probably write a field guide to Harper Ward’s anxious ticks, and they’re all fully on display today.We’re hanging the last of her paintings in the studio, lining up each piece she’s created for her gallery showing. Harper’s perched on the step stool, holding a canvas while I measure and mark the wall. She’s so focused now, she’s barely breathing.“All right,” I say, stepping back. “That’s level.”“Great,” she says, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.I hand her the hammer, and she drives the nail into place with more force than necessary, her knuckles tight around the handle.“Okay, what’s going on?” I ask, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Because if you hit that nail any harder, we’re gonna end up
*Harper*I stare at the dining table, wondering if I’ve overdone it. I’ve definitely overdone it. McKenzy, Melody, and I are the only three having dinner, but I’ve cooked enough for a small army. Roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, a side salad, and fresh bread with this fancy herb butter that McKenzy made sit on the table ready to be consumed. I even baked a peach cobbler because I remember Melody liking peaches when we were kids.I know it’s ridiculous since this is just a dinner to discuss baby shower plans, but my anxiety has forced me to create something that feels warm and welcoming, even if this entire situation is about as awkward as it gets. McKenzy peeks over my shoulder as I straighten a fork for the fourth time.“You want to tell me why you’re acting like you’re hosting the damn royal family?” she asks sarcastically.I snort. “Because I have no idea how this is going to go, and if it’s a disaster, at least I can feed her into a food coma,” I tell her honestly, laying
*Tomas*I know Harper well enough by now to see when stress is eating her alive, even when she tries to hide it behind that bright, brave smile. Her art show has been consuming every spare second of her time, and on top of that, she still acts like Carmen is going to jump out at her every time we’re out together.That’s why today is all about her.She has no idea what I have planned, and the look of surprise when I show up at her door with a coffee in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other makes me feel like I already won the day.“Buenos días, preciosa.” I kiss her cheek as she opens the door, stepping inside before she can protest. “I’m stealing you for the day.”She blinks at me, still in her robe, hair a messy knot on top of her head. “Stealing me? What do you mean?”“I made an itinerary.” I wave a folded piece of paper in front of her face, then set it on the counter. “You deserve a ‘you day,’ Harper. No painting, no stress. Just you being pampered like the queen you are.”H
*Harper*I’m practically vibrating with excitement when I burst into the apartment, nearly knocking poor McKenzy off the couch. She’s got paint in her hair, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap, and her laptop open to some DIY tutorial. The moment she sees my face, her eyes go wide.“Okay, what’s got you bouncing off the walls like a caffeinated squirrel?” she asks, grinning as she sets her popcorn aside.“We’re doing it!” I practically sing, spinning in a circle. “We’re having our art show. And it’s going to be huge.”McKenzy gasps and leaps off the couch to grab my hands. “Shut up. Are you serious? How did this happen?”“Damien,” I answer, breathless from my impromptu happy dance. “I mentioned it to him, and before I could even finish the sentence, he had this whole plan. He said he’s going to blast it all over social media and call in favors from every art critic, influencer, and high-society snob he knows.”McKenzy’s jaw drops. “Holy shit. You know what this means, right?”“That
*Harper*McKenzy’s perched on top of a step stool, paintbrush clenched between her teeth, holding two wildly different knobs up to a half-finished dresser. One is sleek brass, the other shaped like a ceramic lemon.“I’m thinking weird fruit motif,” she says around the brush. “Or is that too quirky farm wife?”“Knowing you,” I say, smearing cobalt blue across my latest canvas, “it’s exactly the right amount of quirky farm wife.”She grins and tosses the lemon knob into her tool bag. “Perfect. If Scott hates it, I’ll tell him to take it up with my creative genius.”The studio feels especially bright today, sunlight spilling through the windows, illuminating the organized chaos we’ve turned it into. My corner smells like oil paint and turpentine. McKenzy’s side smells like sawdust and wood stain.McKenzy spins on her stool, eyeing my painting. “That’s new.”“Just started it last night,” I say. “It’s about Melody. Sort of.”She leans closer, frowning slightly. “It’s angry.”“It’s complica
*Harper*My third cup of coffee sits half-finished on the table, paint still clinging to the edges of my nails from a morning spent lost in my latest piece. McKenzy’s out running errands, the apartment is quiet, and I’m riding the kind of creative high that only comes when everything just clicks.I’m about to dip my brush into a streak of deep teal when my phone buzzes. I grab it without thinking, expecting McKenzy or Scott or maybe one of the guys.It’s the gallery in Chicago.My stomach flips.“Hello?” I answer, trying not to sound like someone who just inhaled a cinnamon roll while juggling a paintbrush between her teeth.“Harper! It’s Stephanie at the Whitney.” Her voice is bright, almost bubbly. That’s already a good sign.“Hi!” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, scrambling for a notepad in case I need to write anything down.“I hope I’m not interrupting, but I wanted to call personally,” Stephanie says. “We’ve had some really wonderful interest in your work after that
*Scott*The house feels too quiet when Harper’s not here. Even with Milo chasing his tail in the living room and the soft hum of the radio in the kitchen, it’s not the same. There’s no burst of laughter from the next room, no clatter of her paintbrushes or the sound of her humming off-key while she raids my fridge.I knew when we started this wild, unconventional, what-the-hell-are-we-even-doing relationship that Harper would never belong to just me, and I accepted that. Most days, I’m fine with it. But when she’s in San Francisco, it’s impossible not to feel like I’m missing a part of her. Still, that’s my problem, not hers.So the second I hear she’s back in town, I text her.Me: Dinner at my place? Home-cooked. I promise.Her response comes almost immediately.Harper: Does this include puppy snuggles? Because I miss Milo. (And you, I guess.)I laugh out loud, shaking my head.Me: I’ll allow it. Be ready at six.When she slides into my truck, Milo goes ballistic, wiggling all over t
*Harper*Flying with Damien never stops feeling opulent. The jet is sleek and perfect, just like everything he owns. The leather seats are softer than my actual bed, and the flight attendant knows my drink order before I even ask.Damien’s beside me, dressed too well for travel, effortlessly handsome in that “I own the world” way that still leaves me slightly breathless.I sip my champagne, curling my legs under me as the clouds drift past the window. “So, just out of curiosity, what do you think regular people do when they want to visit their boyfriend in another state?”Damien grins, stretching an arm across the back of my seat. “I have no idea.”I laugh, leaning into him, the bubbles already fizzing pleasantly in my bloodstream.Before long, we’ve landed and made our way through town to Levi’s Stadium. The place is loud and alive, fans decked out in red and gold, chanting and waving banners. Damien’s private box is, as always, the best seat in the house.Rafe looks incredible on th
*Harper*My phone rings as I’m balancing a coffee mug in one hand and my sketchpad in the other. I almost ignore it, but the Chicago area code catches my eye. It’s the Whitney Gallery. I set everything down and grab my phone just before the call rolls to voicemail. “Hello?”“Hi, is this Harper Ward?”“This is she.”“This is Stephanie from the Whitney Gallery in Chicago. I’m calling with some incredible news.”I blink, my heart leaping into my throat. “Go on,” I squeak out, annoyed by how amateur I sound. “We sold your piece,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement. “It went for considerably more than the asking price. You’ll be receiving a huge check from us.”“Oh, my God,” I breathe, my knees weakening until I have to lean against the counter. “That’s… wow. That’s amazing.”“It’s well deserved,” Stephanie says warmly. “We’d love to have more of your work if you’re interested.”“I’m definitely interested,” I manage, my mind spinning.We wrap up the call, and when I hang up, I j