“Jesus Christ!” Harper shouted, throwing down her bat.
“Yes!” Konstantine crowed, throwing his hands up in the air.
As their teams left the field—the very one she’d played on as a kid—he strolled towards her, hair escaping from his knit cap, those goddamn eyes twinkling. With a wide smile, he repeated the words that had made her stomach knot sixteen years ago, “Time to pay up, Sweets.”
Valentine’s Day...
“Sweets!”
Harper’s door vibrated with every knock from one of Konstantine’s freakishly large hands.
“The banging is excessive! Stop being excessive!”
“Stop taking all goddamned night to get ready and c’mon!”
“You can’t rush perfection!”
“I swear to God, Sweets...”
“Five minutes, man!”
“When I get my hands on you...”
Fed up now, she yanked her door open. “What?” Harper challenged. “You’ll. Do. What?” Living with Konstantine since she lost that goddamn game had been next to impossible. She chose not to examine whether or not she’d thrown the game subconsciously, but she did know that if he didn’t stop his domineering
I-am-man
bullshit she was going to throw
him
—from a window—and chuckle as he went
splat
all over the ground.
Janet had a good, long laugh at her expense while Harper lamented while baking at Sweet Treats
.
Of course Janet’s laughter stopped once she threatened to make sure her chocolate chip cookies were off limits until the good Lord himself came back.
Owen, sadly, wasn’t as easy to threaten, the big-headed bastard. And yet, neither of them was as incomprehensibly irritating as the blue-eyed son of a bitch standing before her now. Speaking of whom, he wasn’t saying anything, just staring at her really, really hard.
“What?” Harper snapped, stepping back and folding her arms over her chest.
“You’re still in your panties,” Konstantine answered simply. “Did you know you were still in your panties?”
Well...no. She’d been in the middle of picking out something to wear when all the knocking had finally tangoed on her last nerve, and she was just now realizing all her goods were on clear display. Slowly sliding backwards into her room, she slammed the door in his face. It didn’t matter that he’d already seen said goodies...and touched...and tasted.
“Rude!” Konstantine yelled.
“I’m trying to get dressed!”
“I like what you have on now!”
“You’re such a skeeve!” she bellowed. “Stop being a skeeve!”
“I think I saw your nipples,” he sang.
Harper stomped a foot. “I hate you.”
“Are your nipples hard right now, Sweets? Is that why you’re so pissy?”
“Get away from my door, Koz!”
There was laughter. “They are, aren’t they?”
She growled. “Go away!”
There was silence from the other side. “Are you standing with your ear pressed against the door?” Harper demanded.
“No,” Konstantine replied.
“Koz...”
“Okay, okay, I’m going.”
With an exasperated sigh, Harper went rummaging through her closet, nothing coming into view except for several pairs of jeans and jerseys. Frustrated now, she went searching for her phone and dialed the one person she thought could help her.
“Yellow!” Janet’s voice rang through loud and clear.
“Wardrobe crisis,” Harper said simply. She’d wonder why she was so concerned about looking nice tonight later...much later.
She could hear her sister-in-law’s wince from the other end of the line. “Scale points?”
“Five.”
“Not too bad.” There was shuffling in the background. “Okay, what do you have that
isn’t
a pair of jeans or a jersey?”
Harper grimaced. “Underwear?”
“Sweet baby Jesus...”
“Help me!”
“Calm down and think. Don’t you have at least one pair of black leggings?”
Sighing, she said, “The leggings again? Really?”
“You want my help or not?”
“Yes!”
“Find the leggings.”
Harper went digging through her drawers until she finally caught sight of a pair of thick black leggings she usually reserved for wearing under her jeans when the temperature dropped during the harder months of winter in New York when long johns weren’t enough.
“Got ’em.”
“How dire is your blouse situation?” Janet queried.
“Are we talking over-the-ass or on the waist?”
Janet sighed. “Do we really need to clarify that?”
“With you? Yes...we do.” Harper answered.
“Do you want to be comfortable and look presentable or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then do as I tell you and stop questioning me.”
“I’m sorry...have we just met? I could’ve sworn we didn’t just meet.”
“Just go farther into your closet!” Janet snapped. “Find a blouse.”
Harper pulled out a white one with sleeves that cuffed at the elbow, with a low cut in the front, made of a fabric that was light and free-flowing. She hadn’t worn it since she bought it, and it looked like it
might
cover her ass. “Got one.”
“Fitted or free-flowing?”
“Free-flowing.”
“Good. Colors?”
Harper told her.
“Please, for the love of God, tell me you have a black leather jacket and a pair of colored ankle boots in there,” the other woman begged.
Harper tossed things out until she found the jacket then looked until she managed to pull out a pair of three-inch, plum-colored, lace-up platform boots. “What’s sad is, I don’t even remember buying this shit.”
“But I bet you can name what the first baseball cap you ever owned was.”
“Facts and examples, Janet. Facts and examples...”
“Put the clothes on, spray something on that doesn’t smell like men’s deodorant on steroids, go out there and have. A. Normal. Date.”
“Someone is awfully bossy tonight.”
“Do as I say!”
“All right!”
“Give me the details later. I wanna know if Koz manages to get the chastity belt off you again.”
“And this conversation is over.” Harper hung up the phone and tossed it onto her bed, whirling around her room like a mini-tornado in an attempt to get dressed as quickly as possible.
“Sweets!” Konstantine bellowed at her door again.
“I’m coming!” she snapped before finishing up and snatching the door open.
His brows quirked before his lips curved. “You clean up pretty damn nice.”
Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him and headed for the stairs.
“What?” he questioned, following her. “What’d I say?”
“The words every girl dreams of hearing on Valentine’s Day.” She retorted, sarcasm clear. “‘You clean up pretty damn nice.’”
There was a snort before the footsteps behind her stopped. “Hey, Sweets.”
Harper turned around. Konstantine stood on the top step, hands stuffed down into dark washed jeans. The blue of his irises was more pronounced due to his choice of a baby-blue-and-chocolate-striped V-neck sweater that hugged his biceps and shoulders. He grinned down at her. “Your ass looks amazing in those leggings.”
She shook her head slowly. “Why?” Harper questioned. “Why do I even bother with you?”
***
“Where are we going?”
“Doesn’t matter how many times you ask me that, I’m not answering,” Konstantine easily retorted, navigating the streets of East Village.
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Is this going to lead to a walk down memory lane? Because I’d rather not walk down memory lane.”
“Were you not there when Lee Miller gave me hives because he didn’t know I was—”
“Allergic to lilies and thought it was a good idea to get you a whole bouquet?” he finished, eyes focused on the road. “Yes, I was. I was also the only person brave enough to rub calamine lotion on you.”
“And were you not around when I was almost blinded by Robert Williams when he—”
“Gave you that card that was supposed to explode glitter when you opened it?” Konstantine glanced over at her. “I got you the eye patches to accessorize with your jerseys.”
“Which was the reason why I tried to claw one of
your
eyes out,” Harper stated.
He sighed. “My eyes are too pretty to be clawed out. The loss of my beauty would’ve haunted you for the rest of your life, and yet my still roguishly handsome face would’ve only been enhanced by the merciless deprivation of one of my best features, leaving you to feel bereft and slightly horny every time you saw me.”
There was silence. As he pulled up to a stoplight, he turned his head just to find Harper staring at him, her brows drawn downwards.
“What?”
“I just...I’m trying to figure out if all the hair hides the dent that was made in your head when you were dropped as a baby, or if they managed to repair the damage with a steel plate.” And yes, he could tell she was
extremely
serious when she replied with that.
With a gasp, Konstantine ran his hands through the back of his locks, tugging. “Pop always told me my head was just extremely hard!”
“Koz!” She reached over to pinch him.
“Ow!”
“Tell me where we’re going.”
“Yes, because physically assaulting me is definitely
gonna make me wanna talk to you about my wonderful date plans.”
“Why can’t you just cooperate?”
“You mean why can’t I just roll over on command?”
“That’s exactly
what I mean!”
He stopped at another light. “Because I’m not a goddamned dog, Sweets! You think I don’t know you well enough by now not to fuck up something that I had to corner you into doing in the first place?”
She tucked her lips in, folding her arms across her chest as she sat back in her seat.
“Ahh, so we’re doing silent treatment now, eh?” Konstantine asked.
No response.
“We’re just gonna sit here in awkward silence like two strangers?”
Nothing.