Take Me Home Tonight

Early, James was. Ten minutes early, to be exact, for practice on Sunday morning. That ought to make a good impression on anyone. Instead it just meant he was there when everyone else rolled in. “Well, well. Looks like your second Halloween was as good as your first - maybe better,” Borts said with a huge smile. “Because that was not your Girl Scout at the game last night.”

“Still had nice cookies, though,” Bennett added as he biffed James in the back of the head.

James had to laugh. The guys were nothing if not predictable when it came to seeing a new girl around. He’d gotten a few jokes about Rachel, but game days were different. This was just practice and the boys had Harper fresh on their minds.

“I saw her give you a hug, Adams,” Sutter called loudly across the room. “Nealer got a much bigger hug, but that’s just ‘cause he was first star.”

Craig shook his head, smiling. “Cause she’s on Nealer’s payroll now.”

The general chorus of oohs and aahs brought the whole team in on the joke. It was quickly lost to the tune of, “Paying for your dates now, Nealer?” and “Does she get overtime for working late nights?”

Paul waved them quiet and James thought he might step in to defend Harper’s honor. No luck. “For the record, I’ve already called dibs on Harper.”

“Oooh, Harper,” Geno said cartoonishly. He always got the gist of a joke, if not every word.

“Exactly what kind of paid service does this Harper provide?” Kunitz asked.

James rolled his eyes. “Decorator. She’s decorating my house.”

The catcalls and lewd comments crashed into each other like an avalanche. Only one stood out above the conversation, because Crosby so rarely chirped about girls. “Do her handprints on the inside of my shower count as decorating?”

Socks were thrown. Sticks became swords. Bennett helpfully drew a heart on the whiteboard with J + H inside and an arrow through it.

“What about the Girl Scout from Halloween?” Dupuis asked. Leave it to the dark horse to wait for the right moment to make trouble. “Rachel, right?”

James was dressed and ready. “Yes, Rachel was my date. Harper is my friend. You know, I’m good more than just hockey and sex.”

There was a long pause while everyone waited for someone else to say it. James nearly got out the door in time. Just before the locker room could close behind him, Gibbons shouted, “Yeah, like signing checks!”

On the way home from practice, James called Rachel. She’d left him a voicemail and text the night before about meeting for Halloween, the ones James had ignored while talking with Harper. Then he’d gone home feeling frustrated. Normally that would have sparked calling Rachel in the middle of the night, but James knew she would come right over. He could not reward his own bad behavior. For extra torture, he wondered what Harper would do if he called her at that hour. She probably had her phone turned off, James the farthest thing from her sleeping mind.

Rachel brushed off the missed call and James was very vague about what he’d done the night before. He could never be sure a rogue photo wouldn’t end up online and he didn’t want to get caught lying. Instead he just said he had “a few drinks” and went home early. True-ish story.

“Want to get lunch?” she asked hopefully. James agreed, so as not to bail twice in two days.
_____

Harper tossed a ball of paper into the trash. Her desk was littered with paint squares and fabric samples, but nothing seemed right. The idea of James’ spare bedroom was daunting. She wanted to bring in more color than the shared living spaces to give each bedroom a bit of solo character. The unlimited budget should have been helpful; instead she made herself dizzy with options.

The solution was, as she often found, at Loom. The same fabric store that had given James anxiety game Harper inspiration. She drove over there and wandered aimlessly, eyes flitting from pretty thing to pretty thing, waiting for lightning to strike. In the end it wasn’t pattern but a color combination that caught her eye.

Wallpaper. She hadn’t done that yet. On the shelf, two shades of blue were stocked next to each other. They were the same colors as something she’d seen James wear, he must like them together. She got samples, took them home and searched all her favorite online shops for just the right thing. Finally she found it: medium navy blue wallpaper with a lighter, watery blue pattern of tiny interlocking boxes printed all over. From up close it looked like a miniaturized brick overlay, from distance it was just the right mix of hue and texture, without breaking the wall’s flat plane. Just one wall would be enough, and that would go behind the rounded white headboard she had in mind. The carpet was light gray, so white furniture would brighten the room. She printed and clipped and drew it all into a plan much more complete and professional than anything she’d shown James yet. Then she called him.

Two rings. Voicemail.

He declined my call, she thought sharply. A phone turned off didn’t ring at all. An unanswered call rang five or six times. Two rings and he had seen the call, seen her name, and hit Ignore.

For all the fun she’d had at the game, all the temptation she had resisted at the Halloween party, Harper thought she was making strides. She just needed to get past the part where James was so attractive - then she could concentrate on him being nice and funny and helpful. Like a friend - who was also her boss, the drawing before her seemed to whisper. She had not forgotten. All this inspiration for just a spare bedroom - Harper was hard at work here. Then he declined her call and it was right back down the spiral: lip print on the glass, the look in his eyes when he saw her wearing his name and number.

Ring.

“Hey, Harper,” James said when she picked up immediately. His phone had been on the table at lunch, and he declined the call before Rachel could see the screen. When Rachel went to the restroom, he hit Return.

“Hi. That was quick!” She laughed to be airy, and knew it just sounded fake.

James grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. Did you get home okay last night?” Last night in those baseball pants after that hug on the street.

“I did, thanks. And thanks for coming. Paige said she’s never been so popular at work. Do any of your friends I met at the game need dates? She’s running a list.” Harper didn’t include James in the offer for dates. He needed no help, not that she’d give it.

“I’m pretty sure they’d take her up on that.” He thought of Borts and Bennett, all eager and energetic.

“She’s at the top of the list, of course. Right of first refusal.”

He remembered the cute, drunk brunette from the night before. “I’m pretty sure they’d take her up on that, too.” Harper seemed fine now, maybe James had imagined their goodbye the previous night being a bit weird. He looked around, no sign of Rachel yet. “So, what’s up?”

“I had an idea for the guest room, can I send it to you before I get the whole room done in my mind?”

James could picture her at her desk, working the way she did when she was excited. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll email it.”

“Cool. But Harper?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you already have the whole room done in your mind?”

The sound of her laugh was like color splashing onto a blank wall. It was light, captured perfectly, softening everything around it into a dream. It was a place James wanted to go and stay.

“You know I do,” she confessed.

He lowered his voice. “And you know I’ll say yes.”

Harper hung up, wishing she could wipe the stupid smile off her face. She was annoyed one minute that he’d declined her call, acting like a teenager in study hall when he called right back. This was no way to treat a client. With renewed purpose, she sketched out the idea that had formed in her head. A few edits and a scan later she was cutting and pasting virtual wallpaper into the miniaturized version of James’ guest bedroom.

Back at lunch, James was also thinking about guest bedrooms. They’d held significance over the summer - one had been where Meghan lived in his Whitby house. Just down the hall from his own room, but it might as well have been miles between them. The first time he kissed her - God, the memory made him cringe - he’d been angry, aggressive and pushed her right up against the door of the room he said she could have. After she fought him off, Meghan looked at James like she’d never seen him before. No surprise, since James wished he didn’t know that guy either.

Now Harper was working on a guest room. James thought it was ironic, though he’d never been too sure what that word meant. Either way it was a huge opportunity to be better, do better, and not let history repeat itself.

“Earth to James?” Rachel had returned unnoticed.

“Hey, sorry. Just thinking about practice,” he said. He’d picked Rachel up straight from the rink. She had her bleached blonde hair in a ponytail that curled down her back. Her black gauzy sweater casually slipped off one shoulder, revealing a thin black bra strap. In jeans and dressy-looking winter boots with her makeup carefully done, Rachel declared she was hung over from her Halloween bash the night before. She shrugged off James’ inattention and asked him about the upcoming road trip. James had taken to using Rachel’s questions to practice answering the media. He gave what he hoped was a thoughtful answer, saying nothing much but with some feeling. It appeared to work - Rachel had another question and away the conversation went. She did not once mention his star performance in last night’s game, so James knew she had no idea he’d played so well. They were talking about who knows what when James’ phone pinged. Rachel paused.

“It can wait,” he assured her.

“What is it?”

“My decorator. She wants me to approve an idea for one of the spare bedrooms.” James shook his head, hoping to make it go away. Rachel’s interest was piqued.

“She? What’s she like?”

“Harper? She’s great. She’s got a zillion ideas and I like them all, because she’s really getting to know me. I can tell she really cares about my place.” James went right down the rabbit hole, gushing about the project the way he hadn’t before - but all his friends were guys they didn’t care. Girls loved this stuff, right? It wasn’t till he stopped for breath that he realized Rachel looked annoyed, not impressed.

Shit.

“She decorated my teammate Craig’s house last year. That’s how I found her, through Craig’s wife.” He hoped bringing a married woman into the equation would balance things. “And she does a lot of the work herself - tiling and painting and stuff.”

Rachel tucked a non-existent hair behind her ear, trying to be casual. “Sounds like she spends a lot of time at your place.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not home that much anyway. But I have to approve it all since I’m going to live in it.” He gestured toward his phone and the waiting email.

That was the opening Rachel needed. “I’d like to see her plan. I mean, your living room and kitchen are pretty nice.”

Pretty nice. James almost laughed. On her one visit to his place, Rachel had used the words “wow” and “beautiful.” Then she’d left her own decoration in the form her her Girl Scout beret hanging from his dresser. Where it still was, he remembered.

“I noticed,” Rachel leaned forward a bit, the front of her shirt dipping low, “that she hasn’t gotten to your bedroom yet.”

You’re fucking telling me.

SHUT UP! James’ brain yelled down to his crotch. He had invited Rachel over, known exactly what would happen and even liked it. He had let her into his life too, just as with Harper. That was the whole idea behind dating just one person, right? Now he just had to be sure he didn’t let Rachel use those things against him.

“No, the spare room is the first project upstairs. Let’s check it out.”

Rachel’s face lit up and she nodded. James swiped open the email, making sure it was not a chain of emails with Harper. Not that they were inappropriate, but he knew their emails and texts were very friendly because he did that on purpose. He tried to be funny and sweet. Writing was easier - he could think before he spoke. This chain was clear, so he opened the image.

“Wow,” he said to himself.

That forgotten room, which would be a storage closet if he had anything to store, was about to meet its match. From what he could see, Harper had included everything from wallpaper to furniture to a rug, as if she fully expected James to use this room. Next she’d be calling his mom down for a visit. Across the table, Rachel made a playful noise, signalling him to come on!
James passed her the phone, aware that he was taking a step toward - well, he didn’t know what. Rachel held it close, enlarged the picture and held it close again. She scrolled across, looking more closely than James had. As promised, he was just going to say yes anyway.

“It’s nice,” she said casually. “Nothing anyone else couldn’t pick out, really, but I like it.”

James took the proffered phone back and closed the screen, shutting with it his urge to defend Harper. In truth he was used to girl drama, since he had never really treated them very well or kept them around long. Rachel’s reaction could have been much worse. Still he couldn’t leave it without some vote of confidence in Harper’s favor. “Wait till it’s installed. If you knew Harper, you’d know she’ll get it right.”

There were tiny barbs on Rachel’s words. “Well then, I can’t wait to meet her.”
____

An hour later, Harper was working at her desk when the doorbell rang. She was expecting something from FedEx, and didn’t even think about it being Sunday when she bounded down and threw open the door.

“James!” she said, yelping in surprise.

“Harper!” he shouted back, throwing his hands up. She took the opportunity to punch him lightly in the stomach.

“I thought you were FedEx bringing me presents.”

“Not presents,” he moved into the entryway, “but permission. For the spare room.”

She retreated one step up toward the living room, so her eyes were level with his. He had a dark gray funnel neck sweater on under a black North Face shell, and lighter jeans. Work boots that had probably never seen a day of work were on his feet. The smell of fall - crisp air, falling leaves, woodstoves - came in with him. His color palette didn’t match scent and Harper wanted to send him back out, re-open the door and find him wearing something russet or brown, like the color of his messy hair.

“Uh, shoes off?” he asked because she was looking at his feet. Her own feet were in green and gray striped socks that peeked out beneath blue jeans. She wore a green t-shirt with sleeves so long there were holes in the cuffs for her thumbs. Her long hair was twisted haphazardly away from her face.

“No, no. Come on in.” Harper took him into the kitchen, pointed to a stool and set about making two cups of hot chocolate.

James had come straight from lunch with Rachel. She had an afternoon appointment, but suggested they go out. James would rather have stayed in but he agreed, and she promised to make the plans. He got the idea she loved being in charge of their dates. Now here was Harper making him cocoa - James wondered if every woman just assumed he couldn’t take care of himself.

“I liked the plan you sent.”

“You liked it, or you loved it?”

He watched her reach up to get two mugs, revealing the skin at the top of her jeans. “Loved it, I think? I’ll have to see it up close but the colors are great. It’s different, more... involved.”

She smiled at his words. Pouring hot milk from the saucepan into the mugs, Harper thought that was the perfect description of this entire project. Different, more involved. More showing up on her doorstep. “It’s not as much work as it looks like, but I can hire people. You don’t have to hang wallpaper if you don’t....”

“I do. I want to help.” As if to prove it, James got up and took both mugs Harper had filled. He set them down near his stool and the empty one adjacent. “If you think you can teach me.”

She took her seat, knees pointed toward James. Only a small distance separated them. Not enough to miss the blue of his eyes as he looked at her over the rim of his cup. “After last night’s game, I think you could probably take up sculpting if you wanted. You’ve got great hands.” She saw his eyes flash at the innuendo. “I mean, you -”

James just laughed, letting her swing. Harper stuck her tongue out at him. It felt good to be in her space, instead of his, and find their dynamic was the same. It assured James he wasn’t crazy in thinking there was chemistry, but nor was it an accident waiting to happen. They could work around it. They could even be alone together and act like adults. So he took a deep breath and did the adult thing.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Her name is Rachel, we’ve been seeing each other.”

The smile on Harper’s face stretched from natural to forced to scary clown like a ratchet turning. In that slow-motion moment, her mind went back through each word James had just said: Meet. Rachel. Seeing each other. It was all there: The lip print on the glass, surprise on James’ face when she showed up at the game, the declined call. For all the possibilities, Harper had never once thought: girlfriend. The idea spread through her veins, turning blood to cement, freezing her breath.

“Okay,” was the best she could do. That and hope the look on her face was contained.

James watched surprise play across Harper’s pretty face and cloud her hazel eyes for a moment. Then it was gone. He did not feel any relief though. Instead a small part of James had been hoping Harper might get jealous. In James’ past life this kind of girl-drama moment would have exploded. Now it was a small bump, already passed, as he rolled forward. If ever he’d thought Harper was interested in more than whatever this was, that chance was now gone. And she let it go without a fight.

“She liked the spare bedroom design,” he said to fill the space. “She really wants to meet you.”

Head still spinning through the countless times she’d thought James might want to do more than work together, Harper nodded. I bet she does.

Harper got up and went to the office, socks shuffling on the carpet, trying to get a grip. So James had a girlfriend. That was the best possible solution to the problem - or was it? Were he and Rachel serious, and Harper was somehow a side thing? Not that anything had happened, but there was no way she misread James getting emotional when she bought his shirt and excited about a coat of paint. She was not delusional. She thought of him last night, in his cowboy hat, leaning close to talk over the music. No way this Rachel girl knew about that, right? Harper wondered if she caught up in some lie James was telling. Then she rolled her eyes - she had liked his cowboy look and ended up in a country song.

When she left the room, James rubbed a hand over his hair. Had that been the right move? He couldn’t risk Harper and Rachel running into each other. It was inevitable. The surest way to piss them both off was to keep secrets. Still James couldn’t help wondering if he should have kept it under wraps a little longer. Harper had faltered for a moment. Maybe he’d brought that moment too soon.

“Here’s the paper sample,” Harper came back in, “and the drawing. I like this headboard.” She opened her tablet and pulled up the page. “No footboard in any of the rooms though, I think. You have brothers, right?”

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure why that mattered.

“If they’re like you, they won’t fit with a footboard. So just a headboard. It breaks up the accent wall, gives real dimension where the paper pattern just fakes depth. Plus there’s crown moulding, so....” she ran her finger along the top of the drawing, where the walls met the ceiling and talked about removing it to hang the paper, then re-installing it, so everything looked seamless. Apparently that was a great feature in a room’s design. James just watched her, beauty mark punctuated above her lip as she spoke. It disappeared into her dimple but she wasn’t really smiling, not the honest kind.

I’ve lost her. Too late James was sure he’d been right about Harper after all. There had been a chance, somewhere deep down under Harper’s professionalism and kindness, and now it was gone.

Business mode was easy for Harper, and how she worked with most of her clients. It would certainly get things done more quickly. Bringing up the calendar with James’ schedule, they looked at the coming week. He had a game Monday night, then a road trip Wednesday through the following Wednesday. If he wanted to help hang the wallpaper, it would have to be before leaving. When he got back, the room would be finished.

After she laid out the plan, James had the distinct feeling he was being dismissed. “So, tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow. I can measure and order while you’re at practice, then we’ll empty the room and talk furniture.”

“Okay.” He stood, heavy boots thumping on the floor. “Thanks, Harper. It’s gonna look great.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said with little confidence.
____

Harper unwound the scarf that threatened to choke her. The Pittsburgh temperature had dropped fifteen degrees during the afternoon and her heavy winter stuff was still packed away. Peeling off the outermost of two jackets, she arranged her stuff on the back of a chair and sat down heavily.

Paige and Liam glanced at each other. “You look like Charlie Brown with his little rain cloud overhead,” Liam said.

“I was going with Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin, when she doesn’t want to be in the army she just wants to go out to lunch!” Paige mimed a tantrum then pouted.

“There’s the razor sharp wit I came out in this cold for,” Harper drolled before ordering a vodka tonic from the waitress.

Liam pulled his chair in. “Uh oh, clear liquor on a Sunday. This must be serious.”

“Did you,” Paige rolled her hand forward, as if it fill in the blank, “you know, with James last night?”

Harper laughed curtly. “Ha. No.”

Her friend’s voice took on tru concern. “Oh no, did he try something? I told Liam one of us should have gone with you, but you guys seemed fine! Still he’s famous n’at. Probably just figured -”

“Nothing happened with James,” Harper cut in. Paige exhaled dramatically. Whew.

“Okay, so what’s with the sauce?” Liam asked, as the waitress set down Harper’s drink.

She looked from Paige to Liam then back, and said in a lower tone, “Nothing happened with James.”

“Oh honey.” Paige reached out and touched Harper’s arm. Harper’s own face fell. There would be no ‘I told you’ so from her friends. She was not only an idiot, getting upset about a guy she could never have anyway, but this conversation made everything she’d told Liam and Paige a lie. This job was not just a job, despite what Harper had tried to do.

“Did he -,” Liam paused to rephrase the question. He didn’t want to say, Did James turn you down? Frankly he didn’t believe that could be possible. “Did you make a move?”

“No, I - I wouldn’t have. I wasn’t going to,” Harper said. “He walked me to my car, a cab magically arrived at that very moment, and he left.”

“If the cab hadn’t come, do you think something might have?” Paige was trying to turn this into hope - just because nothing happened last night didn’t mean it was over. There would be many more nights.

“Wait, did you want something to happen?” Liam asked, a little unclear.

“I don’t know,” Harper answered them both at once. “I know I said nothing was going on, but sometimes I feel like he wants it. He doesn’t hit on me or anything, he just... leans in, sometimes. Drop his guard. So I don’t know if something is going on. You know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Paige said, at the same moment Liam answered, “No.”

Harper took a sip of her drink. “He’s supposed to be this big deal guy, right? Hot head, bad temper, fucking his way through every slut the Burgh - you guys said it yourselves. You looked horrified when I first mentioned him. I know he’s gotten suspended, that some people think he’s a dirty player. But I just don’t see it. To me he seems so,” she paused to find the right word, “bruised.”

“Well, the season’s just started. Who knows what happened this summer. He hasn’t really done anything bad this year, right?” Paige asked.

“No, in fact, had a hell of a game last night before you guys came out,” Liam said.

“I know,” Harper told her drink. “I was there, remember?”
“Right, so maybe it’s just temporary insanity,” Paige reasoned. “You saw him play an amazing game in front of twenty thousand people all screaming his name and got a little swept up. It’s romantic, no? Out of all those people, maybe you could be the one?”

Harper knew Paige had a point. She’d felt that swell of pride in putting on James’ name and number, in thinking that all those people loved him but she actually knew him.

Except she didn’t.

“Turns out someone else is the one. Her name is Rachel, and she wants to meet me.”

Liam whistled softly under his breath, the way he sometimes did when a player took a big hit out on the ice. Paige was not so subtle.

“What?! He has a girlfriend and he never told you?! You’ve known him for like two months! Oh I don’t like this, Harper, and sorry because he’s a panty-dropper but now I’m glad nothing happened between you two. Sounds to me like he was trying to get some on the side and you took a little longer than he expected.”

“But I....” It sounded stupid, in the face of the obvious truth, but Harper was still sure James wasn’t scamming her. If he wanted to try, he would have kissed her that day before Paul walked in. Or in that dark movie theater, or last night at the Halloween party, or any one of the other million chances. A guy like James didn’t miss that often. “I never saw any sign of her in the house.”

“So he doesn’t let her keep stuff there. That’s a very guy thing to do - especially if she’s not the only one,” Liam said this like he had experience juggling multiple women. Paige threw a napkin at him. Yet even she couldn’t argue for James.

“Harper, he’s not stupid. And honestly, a lot of girls aren’t going to ask for much but a ride on the mattress and maybe a Coach bag or something. At least he’s introducing you, right? Maybe he’s not Tiger Woods with his ten hookers, maybe James just has this one girl.”

“Oh God,” Harper made a face. “Is she gonna start making suggestions for the house? Picking out furniture and stuff? A girlfriend I can handle - really, I will be fine - but some tramp who thinks living in a dorm room makes her an interior decorator will die by my scissors if she fucks with this job.”

Paige squeezed Harper’s arm. “There’s my girl. The guy can drop dead, but don’t come between Harper and her paint roller.”

Paige and Liam steered the conversation away from James and kept Harper talking throughout dinner, then on the way out each gave her a big hug. No matter what she said or did, they’d be on her side. And with James’ reputation, they might never change their minds about him. She drove home considering the possibilities: James had not hidden a girlfriend but rather chosen not to reveal her, which was sketchy. Maybe he had ulterior motives but couldn’t pull the trigger. Maybe his ulterior motive wasn’t even Harper. Or, as Paige had said in a moment of grace, perhaps this was James opening up even more and letting Harper in farther - to the life she hadn’t realized he shared with someone else.
_____

Across town, James signaled a waiter for another beer from his spot at one end of an air hockey table. He was looking down the front of Rachel’s shirt as she leaned forward to slide the score beads around. Dave and Busters was pretty busy on a Sunday night and a lot of couples were doing the “fun date” thing. And James was, in fact, having fun.

“You should get a job doing this,” he said. “Planning dates for people. You’re good at it.”

Rachel smirked. “I’d say you should get a job playing hockey, but -” she pointed at the score, which was clearly in her favor. It wasn’t James’ fault he got distracted every time she bent to reach the middle of the board.

“I am letting you win because I am a gentleman,” he lied.

She slapped the puck down on the table’s surface. “I prefer bad boys.”

They’d been flirting all night, comments heavy with innuendo that James knew he’d be making good on later. Rachel’s hair was down, soft-looking and shiny. She wore jeans over high-heeled boots with a white scooped cowl-neck top that hugged her figure. Dark gold earrings dangled against her throat. When James picked her up, she’d given him a hello kiss that was deeper than any of their goodbyes so far. She probably didn’t even want to be at this arcade.

His house, though. Every time he thought of it, he thought of Harper. Telling her about Rachel had been a solid move, the man-up kind of thing to do. Yet he couldn’t help thinking it was the wrong thing. If only he had a photographic memory, James would have replayed the look on Harper’s face when he said, ‘We’ve been seeing each other.’ Had he imagined the pain in her eyes? Rachel was a reason not to fall for Harper, a way not to put his heart where his home was and so risk them both. Rachel was also solid and steady, something fun to keep him out of trouble. And James knew well that people’s memories were as long as his list of sins. So far it was working. But at what cost?

It didn’t matter anymore. He’d made his choice and that was life. Which was why after more games and dinner, he brought Rachel to his house. They were barely inside the door before they were kissing, her attention focused on him like a laser. His body responded fiercely - aside from their one night together, he’d gone without lately. The first time awkwardness was replaced by a playfulness that made James’ blood boil. Rachel pulled her top off in the living room. Stepping back to let him watch, she unzipped her jeans and wiggled them down, over the curve of her side and lace of her panties, past the tops of her high boots. When her pants were on the floor, James moved in. Turning her back to his chest, he ran his hands over all that bare skin and delicate fabric, down her thighs and back up, palms catching on the points of her hips. The cups of her bra filled his hands, fingers dipping inside to find her nipples hard. Then his touch went south again, pushing between her legs, feeling her desire swell in time with his own. He hooked the fabric aside, stroking lightly, while the girl in his arms all but begged for penetration. She moaned when she got it, her voice matching James’ as he found her soft and wet. He worked out of his own jeans, tugged Rachel’s panties down till they were stretched between her thighs, then leaned her forward. She held onto the back of his new couch and said James’ name as he slowly screwed himself inside her body.

That wasn’t the only time. Upstairs in his room, Rachel climbed on top. James loved to lay back and watch the show. Her breasts bounced, her breath caught and she took him along for the ride. He came harder the second time, emptying the tank, short of breath.

“Hmmm, maybe you could get a job doing this.” Her voice was husky as she collapsed next to him on the bed. They were sticky and twisted and spent. Rachel’s breathing evened out, James closed his eyes and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
_____

Beep, beep, beep.

James woke to movement, someone trying to escape. It was Rachel untangling herself from his embrace. She smacked his alarm and looked down to where he lay wrapped in the sheets. Her smile said she liked the view. James didn’t mind a hot naked girl as his first vision of the day either.

“I have to be at work by ten.”

“And I have practice at ten,” he said, sitting up. It was after nine in the morning. Rachel leaned over and kissed him. Her fingers tugged at the back of his hair, a reminder of their increasingly wild romp the night before. “I’ll get dressed quick and drive you home.”

James jumped in the shower while Rachel went downstairs in a borrowed t-shirt to collect the pieces of her outfit from the night before. He quickly rinsed off and brushed his teeth. When he shut the tap off after rinsing, it made a loud thump.

What the... James looked at it. Then his adrenaline spiked. FRONT DOOR. He threw on jeans, zipped a hoodie over his shirtless chest and pelted toward the stairs in bare feet.

“Yeah, it’s really coming together.” Harper.

Fuckfuckfuck. This was not how he planned it. In fact, he was hoping to put Rachel actually meeting Harper off until forever, but certainly this was a worst case scenario. It was early morning. James slowed to a walk and prayed that Rachel had managed to put on her clothes.

“Hey,” he said, coming down the steps, pulling the zipper on his sweatshirt all the way up to his neck.

“Morning.” If James hadn’t known Harper, she would have sounded fine. But he knew her. Rachel stood a few feet away, mercifully dressed and with her boots on too. Sure her hair looked like a Playboy promotion but she wasn’t naked. She was even smiling.

“I was just telling Harper how much I love this couch.”

James’ blood was ice cold. Rachel didn’t know the couch was Harper’s first mark on this house. Harper didn’t know Rachel had been bent over it last night. Both women had their arms crossed defensively and James felt like he was in the hottest principal’s office ever. In fact, he’d seen a porn with exactly this plot, which was not what he needed to be thinking about now. His gaze dropped - right to where his jeans, boxers still inside them, were a pile on the rug.

“I’ve gotta get home,” Rachel said, more to Harper than James. “It was nice to meet you. You’re doing really great work here.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you too. James told me you liked the plans for the guest room.” Her throat was tight, like a full sail fighting to steer a ship.

“Yeah, definitely.” Rachel’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with his bedroom.”

Rachel grabbed her coat and let herself out. James’ practice bag was ready to go by the door, as usual. He shoved his feet into sneakers and turned to look back at Harper.

She had disappeared. The only thing left James’ living room were last night’s clothes on the floor.

All the way to her house, Rachel was quiet. James could feel the tension vibrating off of her. At least he’d mentioned Harper, said he wanted them to meet. It was a lie and he’d had no choice, yet it was his only saving grace. He probably should have added that she was 5’ 8”, gorgeous and a force of nature. Yet Rachel said nothing, just pulled him in for a tongue-twisting kiss that made his cock twitch and slammed the car door.
____

Harper waited until James drove away before she went to the other side of the living room and sat on the floor, as far away as she could get from his jeans. They were probably talking about her now, Rachel saying that James should fire her because Harper was clearly an overstepping maniac who let herself into houses while the occupants were still home. At least they were clothed. A few minutes earlier and Harper figured it looked very different.

The living room. My living room. Clearly this room was getting more than lived in, she should have been proud James felt so comfortable here. But she chose to sit on the carpet because she was pretty sure no one had ever walked - or done anything else - in that spot before.

Rachel. Of course she was pretty. Of course she was a bottle blond with a great body and nice clothes, perfectly tousled hair and the sense to want Harper dead. That much had been clear from word one.

“You must be the decorator,” Rachel had said when Harper opened the door. It made ‘decorator’ sound like ‘rodent exterminator’ or ‘sewer cleaner.’ She glared at the key in Harper’s hand.

“And you must be Rachel. James was just mentioning you yesterday,” Harper replied, her brain taking in every inch of the opponent. “I hope you like what he’s done with the place.”

Rachel glanced around, a Cheshire Cat smile curling her lips. She clearly meant for Harper to see her remembering things about the house. “I do. This room especially. That couch is really comfortable.”

James arrived like a pie in the face. Barely dressed and panicking, he flubbed his way through the introduction while the girls exchanged words dripping venom. The moment they turned to go was the first time Harper breathed. Now she was wondering how the fuck to go on pouring love into a place that girl would stay. There was no reason to hate Rachel - maybe she was great, in another life they could have been friends. Hell James must like her well enough. But this was his place, Harper’s work and wishes were for him. Not a girlfriend.

The word made Harper shiver. James had a girlfriend.

She told herself that she did not care. This house was her canvas, James her subject, and Harper would paint a masterpiece. Rachel could stay outside the frame. Swallowing the lie like medicine, Harper dug out her tape measure and went up to the guestroom. She made a careful sketch, measured everything and did her computations. Curtains would go a long way. The closet needed a new crossbar. Spreading her notes and drawings out on the bed, Harper placed an order for paper to be delivered the next morning. Hardware stores sold everything else she needed. In theory, with James’ help, the room could be papered and painted before he left on Wednesday’s road trip. But right now, Harper wasn’t sure she wanted to spend two days alone with him.
____

James didn’t know which would be worse, coming home from practice to find Harper still at his house or finding her gone. He debated it while getting ready, doing drills, riding the stationary bike in the gym afterward. He rushed back when he was done - and she was gone. But there as a note.

I ordered the wallpaper for tomorrow. Meet you after morning skate.

He sighed. Her handwriting was nice, but the words could mean so many things. She was warning him of her arrival time, so as not to meet another unwelcome surprise. She clearly didn’t intend to see or speak to him again today. And she knew the difference between a morning skate and practice, because he had a game tomorrow night. Harper always paid attention.
____

Notes