LOGINShare
Love Slaps
Last Updated:
2024-12-07 05:04:39Two hours earlier…
Scott
“This isn’t right,” Damien says.
I look at him in the rearview mirror. “What’s not right?”
“She stopped in Hastings, but now she’s heading back to the city, as far as I can tell.” He leans back to show me his phone. “I can’t believe they didn’t catch her when she stopped. Technical difficulties. God, these boondock towns…”
“You know Vermillion is a suburb of Hastings, right?” I remark dryly.
“I stand by what I said.” He turns to Tomás. “We need to head toward West St. Paul.”
I grab the oh-shit bar as Tomás makes a one-eighty on two wheels, causing a lot of honking. Then we’re speeding away from Hastings on Highway 55.
“She’s on 494 West. Where on earth is she going?” Damien mutters.
“That’s not the hig
Related chapters
A Sketch Away From Perfect Questioning McKenzy
TomásDamien gets us into the interview room where two flustered detectives sit in front of a completely shell-shocked McKenzy.“Mr. Blackwood, this is highly unusual,” one of them is enough of an idiota to say.Rafe snorts. Scott shakes his head.I just wait.Damien turns on the detective and strikes like a viper with his words. “And I’m hoping you like early retirement.”“What the hell does that mean?” the detective snaps back. He’s puffed up and stupid. Damien is going to eat him for breakfast.I let the other two watch the show. I’m more concerned about McKenzy. She looks like she’s on the last thread of her last frayed nerve. I go and kneel by her chair. “McKenzy?” I ask softly.Now that I’m able to see under the table, I realize that her hands are cuffed together. Anger rises in me.“Who has the fucking key?” I ask, standing abruptly. “Key?” Rafe asks. “What do you mean, ‘who has the key’?”Scott looks at me, looks at McKenzy, leans down a little so he can see under the table,
Last Updated : 2024-12-08A Sketch Away From Perfect Allies and Assholes
RafeTomás promises to rejoin us after we shake the Steve Keller tree. McKenzy really needs to go home, poor thing. Jack Collins is getting the ass kicking of a lifetime once we find him.Norm knocks on Keller’s door while Damien stands patiently behind him. There are some bewildered police officers outside behind us. I suppose they aren’t used to having to put the pressure on one of their own.A second knock finally brings Keller to the door. He looks at the whole lot of us outside, especially at Norm, and frowns. “What?” he demands.Damien’s lips tighten. I understand. I don’t like his tone either.“Mr. Keller?” Damien asks coldly.“Yeah? Who’s asking?” Keller grumps.“Damien Blackwood. I think you’ve been a bit of an asshole, Mr. Keller,” Damien says.Norm finds his balls and talks over Damien. “We just want to know where Harper Ward is, Steve. I’m sure Jack lied to you. He kidnapped one girl and traded her for Miss Ward. He killed an impound attendant. He stole a truck from the im
Last Updated : 2024-12-08A Sketch Away From Perfect Shot
HarperRafe and Jack are on the ground. I don’t know where the bullet went. I don’t know if Rafe’s been shot. Neither of them are moving.I drop to my knees next to them. “Rafe? Rafe, honey? Rafe?!” I shake his shoulder.Nothing.I put my hand on his cheek and something warm and sticky coats my palm. “Help!” I scream. “Oh, God, he’s bleeding! Somebody help!”A multitude of boots come trampling through the woods, flashlights shining on us from all directions. Some police stand back with their guns drawn while others rush to Rafe’s side.“It’s just a graze,” one officer says, and I could pass out from relief. “He’ll be okay. Just gotta get him in to see if he has a concussion. He’s a football player though, so I suppose he’s had a few of those.”Someone hits their knees next to me while I’m staring down at Rafe and wra
Last Updated : 2024-12-09A Sketch Away From Perfect Up and About
HarperAfter my MRI, the doctors finally let me go see Rafe. I shuffle down to his room in hospital socks and a gown. Tomás has gone to pick up some pizza for us all. Damien is on his phone, leaning on the technicians and whoever else is involved to get my MRI reviewed. Scott stepped out to call someone to check on his animals since he’s been gone so long.I knock lightly on the door to Rafe’s room. When I hear Jen, Rafe’s mother, call “Come in!” I push open the door and go inside.Jen is sitting next to the bed, holding Rafe’s hand. His father, Skip, is leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded. When they look up, neither of them are particularly happy to see me.“Harper,” Jen says in a clipped tone.“Mrs. Maloney,” I reply respectfully. “Mr. Maloney.”Skip eyes me with deep-seated anger.“You could have ended his football career, you know?
Last Updated : 2024-12-10A Sketch Away From Perfect Changes
Two weeks later…Harper“WHOOOOOO! GO RAFE, GO!” I scream from the private suite where we are watching Rafe’s game.“Maybe we’re supposed to call him Bullet?” Tomás asks, eating off a plate of catered food next to me.“I figure if you’re sleeping with the man, you get to call him whatever you want,” Damien says dryly. He sips something expensive—scotch, I’m assuming—from a tumbler, but loses all sophistication when Rafe gets sacked. “Roughing the passer!”“They can’t flag the play every time Rafe gets sacked. This isn’t touch football,” Scott chuckles. He’s munching popcorn, more a fan of that snack than the buffet fare.Damien purses his lips. “I wonder how much it would cost…”I reach past Tomás to slap his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.”
Last Updated : 2024-12-11A Sketch Away From Perfect Goodbye is the Loneliest Word
*Harper*Three months. That’s how long it’s been since my life became a balancing act between love, ambition, and enough sexual pleasure to power a reality show. I’m basically the poster child for chaos, except now it comes with a wardrobe upgrade and a much better skincare routine. Unfortunately, it hasn’t come with a bigger closet.These days, I basically have to shove myself into my closet head on just to squeeze through the tight space between the rows. With all the designer dresses Damien’s sent me, I’m having a hard time finding space. McKenzy says I should just get rid of all my old clothes, but it’s not like I’m going to lounge around in our apartment in Dolce and Gabana.“Rich people problems,” she always says with a sigh whenever I complain about the closet space.Of course, I’m still far from rich. But I’m definitely in a better place than I was when this all began. My paintings have sold so well, I’ve been able to put aside rent money for the rest of the year. It’s such
Last Updated : 2025-03-13A Sketch Away From Perfect Selfish Solution
*Harper*I wake up to the sound of Rafe singing very off-key to some ‘90s alt-rock song in the kitchen. It takes me a second to remember where I am, why my legs are tangled in a sheet that smells like him, and why my heart already aches before my feet even hit the floor.Today’s the day.I sit up, blinking at the sunlight pouring in through the half-open blinds. Rafe’s room is packed up, a cardboard box labeled TROPHIES + RANDOM SHIT sits by the door, and his dresser drawers hang open, mostly empty. It feels wrong, like the room itself is bracing for the goodbye we’re both pretending isn’t coming.I pull on one of his T-shirts, feeling vulnerable and pathetic, and follow the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Rafe is standing at the stove, shirtless, flipping pancakes like a domestic god who doesn’t know his own biceps should be illegal.“Morning, sleepyhead.” He grins, flashing me that too-charming smile that got me into this mess in the first place.“You’re making pancakes?” I ask,
Last Updated : 2025-03-14A Sketch Away From Perfect Dance With Me
*Harper*The afternoon sun pours through the studio windows, spilling delicate golden light across the floor. My latest painting is sitting on the easel, half-finished, all the colors still swirling together, but I’m not satisfied with the result. I dip my brush into my favorite cobalt blue, dragging it over the canvas, blending it into the burnt orange sunset I’m trying to capture.It’s almost there. Almost perfect.I’ve been at this for hours. My back aches, my fingers are speckled with dried paint, and I’ve barely moved since lunchtime. I’m so focused until McKenzy texts me a meme about a disastrous DIY project. At that I laugh, stretching out my stiff shoulders before turning back to the painting.That’s when my phone rings.I consider ignoring it, until I see Tomas’s name flashing across the screen.I bite my lip, warmth spreading through my chest as I answer. “Hola, Profe.”“Hola, preciosa,” Tomas’s smooth, accented voice flows through the line like a slow dance, making my pul
Last Updated : 2025-03-15
Latest chapter
A Sketch Away From Perfect The Woman Scorned
*Harper*When Tomas calls a few days later and asks if I want to go salsa dancing at our usual spot, I smile so wide my face hurts.“Of course,” I say, already flipping through my closet for a dress that will make him sweat before we even hit the dance floor. “I’m dying for another night with you, Profe.”When Tomas knocks on my door, I’m already feeling dangerous.The dress I picked is deep green, tight in all the right places, with a slit high enough to make a statement. My heels click against the floor as I open the door, and the moment Tomas lays eyes on me, his whole body goes still.His gaze travels down my body, slow and deliberate, before snapping back to my face with a heated intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.“Helena,” he breathes, shaking his head as he steps inside. “You are . . . imposible.”I grin, letting my fingers trail along his chest before resting on his shoulder. “Impossible to resist?”“Completely.” He finds my waist, pulling me closer. “Let’s get to t
A Sketch Away From Perfect Nothing Too Extravagant
*Harper*The apartment in Mineesota is quiet except for the rhythmic strokes of my brush against the canvas. There’s a kind of peace in painting, something about the way colors blend together, the way shapes emerge from nothing, the way my hands move without me having to think. It’s one of the few things in my life that feels truly simple.Except today, my mind refuses to be quiet. I keep thinking about Scott and his stronger-than-expected feelings,and the fact that I can’t stop thinking about him.I dip my brush into the deep crimson paint, swirling it onto the canvas with long, sweeping strokes. I tell myself I’m just painting shadows, but I know the truth. I’m painting Scott’s lips, the color they turn when he kisses me, when he really kisses me.I press my lips together, remembering the way he looked at me at the carnival. The way he held my hand. The way he invited me to a family event without hesitation, like I already belonged.And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Scott seems to b
A Sketch Away From Perfect Reunited
*Rafe*Harper is here. In my city. In her own apartment. In my arms.I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet. The past few weeks have been a blur–a new team, new city, new life–but now, finally, it feels like I can breathe again. She’s actually here, curled up against my chest like she belongs there, like she’s always belonged there. And she always has. Her hair’s a little messy from where she fell asleep on me earlier after our first round of sex, strands sticking up in every direction, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more perfect. She’s got on one of my old sweatshirts, her bare legs tucked under her, scrolling through some takeout menu like it’s the most important decision of her life.“I’m getting you the spicy basil chicken,” she announces without even looking up.I raise a brow. “Not even gonna let me pick?”“Nope.” She grins, so bright and cheeky it should come with a warning label. “I know you too well.”She’s right. She does. And I love her for it.The food arrives faster t
A Sketch Away From Perfect Lap of Luxury
*Harper*Damien’s jet is my new favorite place in the world. I mean, I love my apartment, I love everywhere I go with my guys, and I even love my tiny little Prius back home. But this is luxury wrapped in silk, dipped in champagne, and handed to me on a silver platter.Scott is playing with the massage chair, testing every setting like a kid on Christmas morning. Tomas, ever composed, reading something on his tablet, pretending like he’s not secretly enjoying the five-star treatment. And Damien? Damien is lounging like a king, sipping whiskey in a glass that was probably hand-blown in some exclusive European workshop.“I could get used to this,” I say with a sigh, stretching my legs on the reclining seat.“You should get used to it,” Damien says, swirling his drink. “This is your life now.”I snort. “Oh, is it? Just like that?”“Just like that.” He smirks. “I refuse to let my favorite people travel like peasants.”Scott groans, adjusting his chair. “Damien, I don’t know how to tell y
A Sketch Away From Perfect Go Team!
*Harper*My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I nearly knock over a half-empty mug of coffee trying to grab it.Damien: Pack your bags, little red bird. My jet leaves at 10:00 A.M. on Friday.I grin, biting my lip, and another message pops in before I can reply.Damien: And bring the other two along. I suppose they can sit with the peasants in the back.Scott: I’m taller than you.Tomas: And I’m more charming.Damien: But I’m richer.I can’t stop laughing as the group chat explodes with the kind of snarky chaos that has somehow become my new normal.Scott: Don’t care. I’m bringing snacks.Tomas: Do not let Scott choose the snacks. I beg you.Damien: Fine. I’ll stock the jet myself. Only the finest artisanal chips and caviar-flavored popcorn.Rafe: Wait. What’s happening?I snort. Rafe’s been so laser-focused on training camp he’s missed half the group texts lately.Me: We’re all coming to your first home game, baby.Rafe: What? How? Who’s “we all”?Damien: Me, little red bird, her f
A Sketch Away From Perfect Carnivals and Other Rides
*Harper*The painting is massive, much bigger than anything I’ve ever sent to a gallery before. It’s propped against the wall, and every time I glance at it, my heart does a weird little flutter. This is the piece I’m sending to The Whitney Gallery. If I overthink it, I’ll keep making changes, trying to make it perfect. But art isn’t about perfection, right? I don’t know if it’s good enough. I don’t know if I’m good enough. But I know I’ve poured every piece of me into it… my chaos, my love, my fear, my hope. It’s all there, dripping down the canvas in colors that feel like my soul spread wide open.What I do know for sure is that I can’t shove something this big into the back of an Uber. And the car McKenzy and I share is barely bigger than a shoe. So, naturally, I call Scott, the only person I know with a pickup truck.“Hey, babe.” He answers on the second ring, his voice warm and relaxed. “What’s up?”“I need a favor.”“Name it.”“Can you bring your truck over and help me take my
A Sketch Away From Perfect Dance With Me
*Harper*The afternoon sun pours through the studio windows, spilling delicate golden light across the floor. My latest painting is sitting on the easel, half-finished, all the colors still swirling together, but I’m not satisfied with the result. I dip my brush into my favorite cobalt blue, dragging it over the canvas, blending it into the burnt orange sunset I’m trying to capture.It’s almost there. Almost perfect.I’ve been at this for hours. My back aches, my fingers are speckled with dried paint, and I’ve barely moved since lunchtime. I’m so focused until McKenzy texts me a meme about a disastrous DIY project. At that I laugh, stretching out my stiff shoulders before turning back to the painting.That’s when my phone rings.I consider ignoring it, until I see Tomas’s name flashing across the screen.I bite my lip, warmth spreading through my chest as I answer. “Hola, Profe.”“Hola, preciosa,” Tomas’s smooth, accented voice flows through the line like a slow dance, making my pul
A Sketch Away From Perfect Selfish Solution
*Harper*I wake up to the sound of Rafe singing very off-key to some ‘90s alt-rock song in the kitchen. It takes me a second to remember where I am, why my legs are tangled in a sheet that smells like him, and why my heart already aches before my feet even hit the floor.Today’s the day.I sit up, blinking at the sunlight pouring in through the half-open blinds. Rafe’s room is packed up, a cardboard box labeled TROPHIES + RANDOM SHIT sits by the door, and his dresser drawers hang open, mostly empty. It feels wrong, like the room itself is bracing for the goodbye we’re both pretending isn’t coming.I pull on one of his T-shirts, feeling vulnerable and pathetic, and follow the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Rafe is standing at the stove, shirtless, flipping pancakes like a domestic god who doesn’t know his own biceps should be illegal.“Morning, sleepyhead.” He grins, flashing me that too-charming smile that got me into this mess in the first place.“You’re making pancakes?” I ask,
A Sketch Away From Perfect Goodbye is the Loneliest Word
*Harper*Three months. That’s how long it’s been since my life became a balancing act between love, ambition, and enough sexual pleasure to power a reality show. I’m basically the poster child for chaos, except now it comes with a wardrobe upgrade and a much better skincare routine. Unfortunately, it hasn’t come with a bigger closet.These days, I basically have to shove myself into my closet head on just to squeeze through the tight space between the rows. With all the designer dresses Damien’s sent me, I’m having a hard time finding space. McKenzy says I should just get rid of all my old clothes, but it’s not like I’m going to lounge around in our apartment in Dolce and Gabana.“Rich people problems,” she always says with a sigh whenever I complain about the closet space.Of course, I’m still far from rich. But I’m definitely in a better place than I was when this all began. My paintings have sold so well, I’ve been able to put aside rent money for the rest of the year. It’s such
