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“Actually, she was extremely supportive. In a lot of ways, she’s the person who set me on this new path, since that first cooking class was a gift from her.” This was the second time Harper had skirted around the details surrounding her career switch. The night of the fire she’d done a similar dance, giving them only the tiniest glimpses, while holding back so much of the truth.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Luca said. “Glad to know your mom is in your corner.”
She could tell he genuinely meant that, so much so that she decided to put herself out there. Harper was interested in getting to know them better. Perhaps the best way to encourage that was to lead by example. There was something about these men that told her she could trust them. Or at least, she hoped she could.
She’d learned a long time ago—starting with her dad—that her trust gauge was faulty. What was also faulty was her ability to stop offering her trust anyway. Harper was painfully optimistic, determined to see the best in people. And that was despite the long line of assholes who’d tried to knock that attribute right out of her.
“That cooking class probably saved my life,” Harper admitted. “About four years ago, I collapsed after a particularly grueling sixteen-hour shoot.”
“Collapsed?” Luca said in alarm.
She quickly lifted her hand. “Sorry. Collapsed sounds way too dramatic. I got light-headed and passed out. Hunger, dehydration, a lack of sleep, and stress are a nasty combination.”
“So collapsed was the right word,” Conor said, sounding almost angry.
“I guess so. After a night in the hospital, the doctor suggested I take some time to recover. Bradley said that wouldn’t be possible. I was scheduled to walk the catwalk in Milan during Fashion Week. It was a huge deal, high profile, and we both knew I couldn’t miss it.”
“Did you go?” Luca asked.
Harper shook her head. “No. Mom put her foot down. First time ever. Typically, she went along with whatever Bradley and I decided in terms of my career, but she swore hearing that I’d collapsed had taken five years off her life. She informed Bradley that I wasn’t going anywhere but home to sleep for a week. Ordinarily, I would have fought her, but I literally didn’t have the strength that night. Or the will.”
“Good for her,” Conor said. “So you took some time off?”
She nodded. “Yep. For a whole week, I relaxed. Took the cooking class, watched movies, read a pile of dirty books, and pigged out on takeout and wine with Mom and my best friend, Luna. It was the best time of my life. Luna pointed out that the collapse was my wake-up call, and she told me I’d better listen or she’d kick my ass.”
“Luna sounds like a good friend,” Conor said.
“Yeah. She is. Though I’ll admit, I didn’t listen right away. I went back to work, determined to pick up where I’d left off…but things were different. The spark was gone, and while it took me at least six months to admit it, I think I knew deep inside that my modeling career was coming to a close. Just hard to face something like that when modeling is all you’ve ever known.”
Conor reached out and placed his hand on hers. “It was a brave thing to do, Harper. A lot of people wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.”
That was when Harper realized the real appeal of these two men. They looked at her and saw a whole person, not just a face or a body but someone with thoughts and dreams and stories they wanted to hear.
“And it’s obvious you made the right decision in terms of your new career path because these shrimp and grits…” Conor finished that sentence not with words but with a long hum of appreciation. “You really need to make sure this is on the menu at the restaurant.” Then to prove just how sincere he was, he stood, helping himself to more.
She’d been stressed when she arrived here earlier, annoyed by the robbery and yet another delay. Because now that she knew what she wanted her future to be, she wanted that future—the restaurant—to start right now.
After a few hours with these men, the impatience had faded, reminding her to appreciate where she was. Which was currently right here, in a happy food coma with two of the sexiest guys she’d ever met.
Life was good.
They polished off their second helpings—third for Luca—then cleared the dishes. Harper started to clean up, but Conor shook his head, opening Luca’s bottle of wine.
“Leave that. I have a cleaning lady who comes in every other day. She’ll take care of it tomorrow,” Conor said.
Luca snorted good-naturedly. “A cleaning lady who comes every other day, he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”
Conor shrugged, grinning shamelessly, and Harper realized this was the most she’d ever seen him smile. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was more comfortable in his own home or because they were getting to know each other well enough to start lowering some walls. Whatever the reason, it was nice.
Maybe too nice.
Because tonight, she was struggling to keep the lid on her libido, and it wasn’t just Conor’s smiles causing the twittering in her stomach or the dampness in her panties. When Luca had tossed a couple ten-pound weights on one of Conor’s chest press machines in his gym and done a few lifts, her pussy had clenched tightly enough that she thought she might seriously come simply from the gun show.
“Grab your glasses,” Conor said, lifting his and the open bottle of Malbec. “It’s more comfortable in the living room.”
She and Luca followed Conor from the kitchen, each of them claiming a spot on his cozy sectional couch. Harper was tucked in the corner, while Luca and Conor plopped down on the opposite ends.
“Tonight has been wonderful,” she said, leaning back, taking a sip of her wine.
