Take Me Home Tonight

From the other end of the table, James could not keep in Harper’s conversation. A few full-table discussions came up, but mostly just requests to pass more food along. Borts carried the conversation at James’ end, entertaining Rachel and Beau while Kristen said nothing. At the other end, it was all peals of Harper’s laughter, Paul talking with his hands and Sid shaking his head. James longed to go down there but it was too awkward, and Rachel’s hand was on his knee. So he settled fr trying to listen, though his looks that way were becoming more obvious. Rachel probably noticed. A few times Harper even caught him, her eyes cutting away immediately. Still her giggle punctuated the atmosphere like she’d never had charming company. The sound raked down James’ spine.

James was tired. He was full and fat and would have been happy if just once Rachel had gotten up to refill a dish or replace the wine. Instead Harper did it - even before he could hop to it himself. And each time she had a smile on her face. Dinner topics he’d never heard before, from chandelier making to installing wainscoting, were widely discussed. If it had been someone else in her place, James would have accused his teammates of playing along with boring conversation to appease a pretty girl. But he knew Harper could actually make that stuff interesting. In fact he wanted to be part of that discussion more than the one he was pretending to have with Rachel and Borts. The food was almost gone, perhaps he could figure out a way to rearrange their seats.

“A frat house,” Harper said, when Crosby asked about her first design project at school. “It was supposed to be an exercise in not getting attached to your design, since the people living there always want to make changes. But I doubt anyone would have changed by awesome system of going from room to room by waterslide.”

Paul asked her favorite room in a house. “Library,” she answered. “If I had an extra room, I’d turn it into a library.”

James often thought of the day after he met Harper, when he went to her house and laid on her bed. It was usually the laying and the bed on his mind, but when she said library, he remembered she had a quote painted on the wall above her mirror. Something from The Three Musketeers. He couldn’t recall what it said.

“What about your name?” Crosby’s question brought James’ attention back. “It’s so -”

“Don’t,” James whispered. If Sid said Harper’s name was beautiful or sexy, James would have to punch the guy. Of course both were true and James had never asked, or even wondered about her name though he’d never heard it before. It felt heavy on his tongue, like he should speak it first.

“Unique,” Sid decided before repeating, “Harper.”

Harper smiled. She may have even blushed. James rolled his eyes so hard, he was sure Rachel felt it.

“It’s my mom’s maiden name. She didn’t want to hyphenate, so instead of Laura Harper-Cates, I’m Harper Laura Cates.”

Talk turned to names: whether or not Sidney was a girls’ name (James said yes), if Borts would ever get anyone to call him “Rob” (everyone said no). Rachel and Beau started laughing about something and James lost the thread of conversation again. He jammed a forkful of stuffing into his mouth and tried to taste it.

After everyone had finished eating and leaned back, the conversation lulled happily. “Harper,” Rachel spoke, the sound of her voice surprising James, “since you’re almost done here, what’s your next project?”

Paul made that clicking sound again, but Harper was already well aware of the dig. Rachel’s operative words were ‘almost done here’ and she was right, that was coming quickly. Probably not quickly enough for Rachel’s liking.

“I don’t have one planned right now,” Harper admitted. It would have been great to say ‘The Warhol Museum’ or even ‘your mom’s house,’ but she had nothing up her sleeve.

“You should do my house,” Sid said.

If a pin dropped, it would have been heard all the way to Columbus. Harper looked right at James, quick as a bolt of lightning, and his eyes were on her too; that blue that matched the chairs and paint, that color she’d been putting everywhere since she met him. His soft mouth fell at the corners, a frown that lasted a heartbeat.

Oh stop, she told herself. Why was she looking to James as if she needed permission? A job was a job and this one was almost over. Besides, James was down there with his girlfriend, and her hand hasn’t come above the table all night. It was only up to Harper what this house looked like when she left, not who was in it. James was just afraid of change - same as he’d been when she’d gotten here.

“I’d love to take a look,” she said. Sid nodded like he hadn’t noticed anything, but Harper saw it on Paul’s face.

Rachel was no fool either. “Who wants dessert? Harper, you could get that great pudding you brought.”


That was almost the last straw for Harper. James’ mercurial mood was one thing but Rachel treating her like the help was not something she got paid to endure. Paul was still watching her though, their silent communication about Sid’s offer replaced by Rachel’s insensitive request.

James had a vision. In his mind, he pushed his chair back so hard it screeched on the floor. He mumbled, “There’s pie too.” and chased after Harper. She was around the corner by the fridge, he nearly crashed into her. Harper was caught so off guard by his sudden arrival that she gasped, a perfect, secret sound. Their bodies almost touched. James’ eyes dropped to her parted lips, he leaned down and... nothing. A move like that was exactly how James had gotten into trouble with Meghan - doing things out of desperation at the worst possible time. His date was right here! It was a holiday! This was Harper’s job to boot. Too risky. So he did nothing, for once. Just stayed in his chair at the table.

“I’ll get it,” Sid announced, standing up.

“No no. It’s hidden. Stay here.” Harper was on her feet, needing a reason to run from the dining room before she redecorated the wall with Rachel’s face. James should be getting dessert, or at least offering to help. But he didn’t - again. Screw the russet tint of his hair, the softness of his barely-there scruff: Harper hated him. Forget that he was tall and broad enough to sweep her off her feet, because he certainly wasn’t smart enough. Her heart raced, wishing he’d just do something. Hadn’t he ignored her since they sat down? Wasn’t he letting his girlfriend walk all over her? Why the hell would Harper want him now?

Except she did want him.

Fuck, they both thought.

Kristen jumped up too - Rachel must have kicked her under the table. Sid was on Harper's heels when she stopped at the fridge.

"I was serious about my house," he said. In her shoes, they were the same height. That made her perfectly level with his perfect face: those bottomless eyes, that scandalous mouth. Sid had a kindness in his expression that Harper hadn't expected, maybe because he seemed so serious on TV. In person, and up so close, he just seemed like a nice guy who happened to be fuckhot and interested in interior design. Basically Harper's dream guy.

"Um..."

Sid and Harper both whipped around the see Kristen standing just inside the doorway. That single word was the most she'd ever said. Unlike when Rachel entered the room, which always caused Harper and James to step apart, Sidney did not move an inch.

"Can you grab the bowls, please, Kristen?" he pointed to a stack next to the sink. The girl's eyes went wide at the sound of her name coming from his lips. She moved robotically. Harper tried to bite back a smile, but Sid caught her. A megawatt grin flashed across his face and she clutched the fridge door for support. He reached past her, wide chest bumping her side, and grabbed a can of whipped cream from the top shelf.

"So, you want the job?" he asked, still holding ground in her personal space.

Harper was flattered that Sid was so flirtatious, but she knew what else was going on here. Kristen would tell Rachel what she saw, Rachel would tell James. James might even care - if only because this was Crosby they were talking about. Paul and Rob had flirted and she'd given it right back. Something about Sid felt different; a tiny bit intimidating. No doubt James felt the same way about his erstwhile captain. Harper needed to play this cool.

"Probably." She picked up the green plastic bowl of pudding. "How do you feel about water beds?"

James’ eyes were fire when Harper and Sid strolled back into the dining room, laughing. Harper put the pudding right in front of Rachel like she was invited to cut the cake at a wedding. Rachel scooped it into dishes and passed them around without even bothering to get up.

“Oh my God,” Beau moaned. “What’s in this?”

“Butterscotch.”

“Like Werther’s Originals?” He licked his spoon.

The pudding got rave reviews, and the pie was good too. When Borts finally pushed his bowl away, a good ten minutes after everyone else was stuffed, he did it with extreme satisfaction. “I almost hope I’m a healthy scratch tomorrow. Then no one will notice how fat and slow I am.”

Someone pronounced it the perfect time to turn on the Steelers game. Sid instructed everyone to carry dishes into the kitchen first. The boys loaded up armloads, Kristen scooped up glasses. Rachel carried her own plate. The piled everything near the sink and James started loading the dishwasher. Only Harper, Paul and Sid came back with more.

“Leave them,” James insisted. “I’ll do that.”

“About time,” Paul said. He grabbed a six pack from the fridge and walked out. James waited for Sid to leave, hoping for a moment alone with Harper. To do what, he wasn’t sure. Apologize? Thank her for not hitting Rachel in the face with that pie? In the end it didn’t matter.

“Can we do the tour again? I have questions,” Sid asked. Without looking twice at James, Harper led Crosby away.

James had no choice but to retreat to the couch - Harper’s couch - where Rachel had saved him a seat. Borts and Beau had pulled in furniture from other rooms and everyone was kicked back, talking over the football broadcast. Rachel sat nice and close, one hand on James’ thigh. He watched the game clock tick down until the beers were all gone. It was his excuse to get up.

“Is that a moat?” Harper was asking as James walked into the kitchen.

“No, that’s the counter. It goes around the room.” Sid had a pencil in hand, hovering over a torn piece of brown paper bag, drawing. James looked away sharply. Once Harper had drawn pictures of his house.

Harper was so close that she and Sid were touching. Her dark blond hair hung down as she leaned forward. “This is a door, then? It looks like a drawbridge!” She took the pencil. “Your castle needs a dragon, for a security system.”

“Okay, you’re already fired,” Sid bumped her hip.

It took all James had not to snap at them. He grabbed another six pack and returned to the living room. After a while, Sid and Harper emerged. James hoped they might stay where he could see them, but instead they went upstairs.

Harper was aware of Sidney like she was aware of James, like animals were aware of earthquakes and tsunamis in time to run for higher ground. It was stupid to think James would act - he had barely carried a plate, and demanded much less from his date. He clearly did not care. Still Harper knew exactly how far away he’d been at dinner, and where he was now in the living room.. As she led Sidney upstairs, Harper noticed how close James and Rachel were sitting on the couch. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t want James. She’d want the right guy, the smart choice, the path of least resistance. That Sidney Crosby would ever be considered least of anything was almost funny. He was flirting pretty hard - not making a move, but clearly open to accepting one.

Yet Sid wasn’t the only other player in the game. Paul was... Paul. He was sweet and charming, and he was an adult. Perhaps that’s what Harper really needed, someone mature. But she was acting childish herself, knowing she wanted James and trying her best to ignore it, smiling at Rachel even when she hated that bitch. And why hate her? Because Rachel wasn’t good enough. But right now, what was James really so good at? Paul was different. That was why Paul would never make a move on someone so close to his friend.

Crosby, though, he was a different story. He was clearly the alpha male here. If Harper chose him, no one would be surprised. So why would she keep waiting for James to grow up, dump Rachel and just fucking kiss her already?

She walked into the guest bedroom, reminded of how much she loved what they’d done with this place. Sidney was behind her, always so close. “You really do great work,” he said.

“Two more rooms to decorate, don’t give me a final score yet.”

“This is my favorite room, though. It’s so comfortable.”

Harper couldn’t help but look at him. She wondered if he’d ever been turned down or met a woman who wouldn’t drop the man in her life for this deluxe model. No wonder Kristen had followed them into the kitchen - there might actually be something to see.

Or to stop.

“I’m surprised our chaperone hasn’t come running,” Sid said, thinking the same thing. A moment later: scuff. Thump. Footsteps on the hallway carpet, much too heavy to be Kristen. James stopped in the doorway.

“This place is awesome, Nealer. You really help as much as Harper says?” Sid asked.

“Yeah, I did,” James answered.

“Guess I’m gonna have to learn how to paint.” Crosby gave him the captain’s smile, one that said Sid made the rules around here.

James went to his room to get the sweatshirt he’d lied about needing. Harper and Sid weren’t doing anything, he needed to calm down. Of course, he and Harper had never done anything either. Didn’t stop him from going crazy.

It was well into the second quarter before Harper and Sid came back. Crosby was carrying a chair for each of them. He pulled a beer from the six pack on the coffee table, twisted it open and wiped the top with his sleeve. Then he offered it to Harper.

“Thanks,” she said, exhausted. She was very proud of the work that had gone into this house. She’d shown off a little to Sid, who asked surprisingly intelligent questions. He’d have more input on his place than James, but Harper didn’t mind. It was just another way of getting to know someone. Just how well she wanted to get to know Sidney was another question altogether.

The Steelers mounted a comeback but in the end the Ravens held on to win. Everyone was in a mild food coma, struggling into jackets that had fit better before their meal. Beau and Borts thanked everyone - Rachel, Harper, James. Paul only thanked Harper, with a hug, then simply said goodbye to everyone else. Rachel stood next to James like the lady of the realm, who’d obviously be staying the night. Sid waited to walk Harper to her car.

“Your bowl,” James said. He could not let Harper leave like this, and not with Crosby. He needed a minute alone with her.

Harper didn’t want to hear it. If James had something to say about how dinner had gone, he should say it in front of Rachel. Preferably about Rachel. His blue eyes were pleading with her to take the hint and follow him to the kitchen.

“I’ll get it Monday,” she said. “You guys have a good weekend.”
_____

“Knock, knock,” Harper called. The door had been left ajar. It was Saturday after Thanksgiving and everywhere that wasn’t a shopping mall seemed unnaturally quiet.

“Hey.” Sidney Cappeared from around a corner. He had on a blue 412 t-shirt, jeans and socks, no shoes. “Thanks for coming over.”

It hadn’t taken Sid long to call Harper - Saturday morning her phone rang and there was his name on the screen. The first thing she did was congratulate him on the Pens’ 4-1 win the night before. The first thing he did was invite her over. Now she was here for a quick look at his house before his infamously superstitious pre-game ritual began.

“Sid, this place,” was all she could say. The house was so new she could smell sawdust. It was a custom-designed, red brick two-story mini-mansion in the Tudor style. From the outside, it loomed low by sturdy behind a privacy wall and gate disguised with foliage. Inside the wall, the house sat at the top of a circular drive filled with white large-grade gravel. Grass and landscaping were brand new, all a bit too perfect, like a fresh haircut. In a month, they’d look natural. A short flagstone walk lead to the front door. All around, every window had a dark brick frame built into the shape of the house. Harper was in the foyer, which was to say it was the kind of house that had a foyer.

“You like it?” He looked so hopeful.

James was a minor star, in the grand scheme, and he had the personality to wear that mantle like a crown. Crosby, on the other hand, was so… normal. Not at all like what you’d expect from the face of a sport, hero of a nation, best-in-the-world at anything. No wonder fans like Liam were fascinated by any tidbit of info on Sidney’s life. They didn’t have much to go on.

“You know, when I first got the job with James, I told a friend I was decorating this big, empty house for one of the Penguins. He assumed I meant you. Said you’d been building some secret lair for years, never showing anyone. I see why he thought that.”

Sid laughed at himself. “It did take forever. But I’m done – really done, I promise – as of last month. Which is why I need to decorate and move in so everyone can shut up.”

God, he’s broad-shouldered. She followed him inside. “It’s a far cry from someone’s basement, even if it’s Mario Lemieux.”

“For the record, I didn’t live in his basement.” He turned toward another room.

Looks good from the back too. “Cupboard under the stairs?”

“I had a whole wing of the house,” Sid said as if he felt guilty for not enduring terrible conditions.

Harper walked into his living room. “Yeah, but did it have this light?”

The living room had vaulted ceilings, no second story above it, just air and skylights. Off it, two steps led to a den where cable had already been installed, waiting for a huge TV. Bookshelves were built into either side of the space, like a library. Harper’s mouth my have dropped open. The kitchen was huge, opened into a dining area and off the other wall, sliding glass doors onto a stone veranda that overlooked a pool, empty for now. A staircase up to four bedrooms: two guest, one mini-master and then Harper stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom. The bed was hastily made, a white down comforter tossed over the pillows and blankets. The top dressed drawer was open and two suitcases lay on the floor along the far wall. It too had high ceilings – not quite as high as the living room – and skylights. He’d pushed the bed into the corner so the skylight didn’t shine directly on it. Only the regular windows had blinds. It was literally the biggest, blankest slate Harper had ever seen.

Sidney Crosby, standing in his own bedroom, looked at her and said, “Say yes?”

Turning a situation into work before it could become pleasure, before it was something to separate, seemed to be Harper’s forte. She said, “Yes.”

They went to the kitchen and sat at the island. It looked more or less like the castle-and-moat drawing he’d done at Thanksgiving. Harper tried not to finish the whole room in her mind right away, but it was tough. She explained to Sid how she worked, asking if he had any preferences about colors, paint, textures. He was up for anything that didn’t involve too much major construction.

“I wouldn’t change a thing in here, Sid. Just make it yours. James he had no idea what he wanted, but that’s just because he lived there so long it seemed normal. It’ll be easier for you the imagine this place looking different.”

Sid started taking things out of the cabinet: cutting board, bread, knife. He laid them out and looked at Harper, a little smirk on his face. “I think Neal knows one thing he wants.”

Crap, she thought. Harper was so tuned into James’ moods, she’d hoped to be the only one who noticed his displeasure on Thanksgiving. He hadn’t done anything outright, but the jealous way he watched her talking with Sid and Paul, the little scowls and surveillance, had not been that subtle. At least Sid was bringing it up rather than ignoring it.

“He’s just….”

“Spoiled?” Sid opened the fridge.

“I was going to say bratty, but yes. Spoiled. I’ve been putting all my energy into that house – and he has too – now it’s almost done. But the idea of decorating is not to take forever. His place can’t stay the center of attention if I’m doing my job right.”

Sid seemed thoughtful for a second, then held up the peanut butter and jelly he was preparing to make. “Want a whole or a half?”

“Whole, obviously.”

He giggled, which was rather girlish, and set about making his hands look huge by holding silverware. The precise way he did everything told Harper he was a bit of a control freak. As advertised. “So, is this part of your game day preparation?”

“Every time,” he nodded. “Crust on or off?”

Instead of answering, Harper picked up a half with the crust on. Sid took a bite of the other half and started making another sandwich. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”

“No,” Harper shook her head.

Sid looked up, a peanut buttered slice of bread in one hand. “ Do you want to?”
_____

James sat down heavily. His gear was soaked, adding thirty pounds to his frame. After OT and a shootout, his legs were jelly. He chucked his helmet, grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his sweaty face.

“Nice goal, bro.” Paul tapped him with a stick. Guys were filing into the locker room, exhausted but satisfied. The Pens had squeezed two points out of a grueling game.

Of course, everything felt grueling now. Everything James did was going uphill. He could pinpoint the exact moment he last felt free of worry: when Harper had been jumping all over him in the kitchen, trying to rescue her stolen pudding. They’d been laughing and shouting when Rachel walked in. James had barely smiled since.

Sure the Pens won two games in a row - that always helped. But he kept going back to his house, missing Harper and seeing only Rachel. She’d stayed over every night since. James didn’t have the strength for the argument he knew it would take to send her home. He considered the fact he was being a jerk to Rachel by continuing to see her. He was acting like a boyfriend. She was reacting like a girlfriend. Her attitude toward Harper at Thanksgiving had been awful, but James had done far worse under suspicion of jealousy. To her credit, Rachel hadn’t brought it up since. She must have thought she’d won.

Which is why James couldn’t invite Harper to Saturday night’s game, because he’d invited Rachel. The Pens won in a shootout, with all three shooters scoring: Sid, Malkin and James. Now James did his duty by speaking to the media, then showered, dressed and headed toward the lounge.

The first person he saw was Rachel, talking to Kristen. And Harper.

Panic. Had James somehow invited them both and forgotten? If Rachel was in James’ seats, where had Harper been? An entire conversation went through his head in seconds. How the hell was he going to talk him way out of this one?

“There he is!” Rachel threw her arms around his neck, her kiss covering the shock surely evident on his face. She wore a gray, asymmetrical gray leather coat over a black sweater and jeans. Her very blond hair stood out against the outfit, if not the crowd of WAGs in the room. Kristen gave James a quick hug next, always managing to seem nervous. Then it was Harper.

“Hey. Nice goal.” Harper’s smile was genuine, there was no murder in her eyes. Instead she looked happy – and fucking gorgeous, James had to admit, in a cozy white funnel-neck sweater. It had long, snuggly-sleeves and was paired with brown riding pants and knee-high leather boots. James looked from one girl to the other in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Wrong, wrong, his brain blared. “I mean, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Sid invited me.”

Every whirling thought in James’ mind stopped dead. Sid. Harper. WHAT? All the jealousy James felt about Thanksgiving, the hours he’d endured watching Crosby charm Harper and sit next to her and clear plates… well of course it fucking led to this. Right where it would have led James first. His ego wailed. If he couldn’t be here with Harper then no one should. Especially not Sid.

“Hey guys,” Crosby arrived like they’d spoken of the Devil.

“Hi. Nice goal.” Harper said, giving him a quick but full-contact hug. His arm came up across the center of her back. She had the idea that Sid didn’t like to be touched by most people, but when he gave a hug, he meant it. Not that it mattered much: Rachel was wrapped around James’ waist and Kristen, as ever, seemed paralyzed by her surroundings. They congratulated Sid from two feet away.

James was having too many thoughts at once. Every time he tried to picture how this had happened, the scene devolved into a bloodbath. “Did you guys sit together?”

“No, I sat with Anne,” Harper said. Anne and Craig were still on the other side of the room. “She doesn’t have the kids tonight and Sid knew she was coming by herself.”

“ Good thing, eh?” Sid smiled. He secretly loved the shootout, but only when the Pens won.

Harper nodded. The whole night had been worth it for the surprise on James’ face when he saw her talking to Rachel. Then again when she announced that Sid invited her – whew. James had nearly pitched forward out of his shoes, he stopped so hard. It explained, or confirmed rather, that she hadn’t been crazy at Thanksgiving: James was territorial and saw her as his turf. He was jealous. Well maybe once she could have been his, but at the moment Rachel occupied that space with a hand on James’ ass. If James felt anything more than possessive, he was doing a shitty job of showing it.

Rachel had been shocked too, but in a good way. She nearly cackled with delight. Throughout Thanksgiving, Rachel watched Harper and Sid like she was keeping score. Clearly Rachel wanted James to notice Harper and Sid, add it together and write Harper off. Tonight, Rachel had been downright happy to see her.

“Want to go out?” Rachel asked excitedly. She was eager to make this awkward moment last.

“I can’t,” Sid said. “I’m dead. Thanks though, you guys have fun.” All eyes were on Harper, waiting to see how they’d part. She smiled, he smiled back - and that was it. Rachel practically stomped her foot.

James exhaled the breath he’d been holding. At least they hadn’t left together. “I think I’m gonna go home too. Fucking OT, it’s only five minutes but it feels like hours.”

“You were over your TOI average tonight too, seemed like you were out there the entire third,” Harper added casually.

James blinked. “How’d you know that?”

“I’m a genius,” she shrugged. Anne caught her eye and waved. “Or I have Twitter. It was good to see you guys. I’m riding with Anne.”

All James could do was watch over Rachel’s head as Harper left. Kristen called out goodbye. Rachel looked up at James, as if he might change his mind or invite her back to his place. He just gave her a squeeze. More than ever now he wanted to be alone.
____

Notes