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“Yeah, I like her.”
“She’s great.” I scrape the eggs onto my plate. “I’m glad Brett and her hooked up. They’re good for each other. What about you? Any boyfriends back in Texas?”
“No.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” I laugh, taken back by the inquiry, and glance at her. “Between the business and the escort service, I can’t have a girlfriend.”
“I guess it’s the price you have to pay for being a hero.”
“I’m not a hero. I’m just a guy trying to help people.”
“Don’t be modest. What you’re doing it’s not something just anyone would do. It’s heroic.”
“If they had my past, they might do the same.”
“It takes more than a past. It takes bravery and confidence to walk into the situations you do. And every time you do, you put yourself in danger,” she says, and I get the sense I’m getting a glimpse of the social worker in her. “But I assume you don’t worry about that.”
And then, the Harper I know is back. “I do.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “It’s not like I have a death wish or anything. It’s just the reasons to do it outweigh the reasons not to. My eyes are wide open. I observe everything. Consider and perceive every outcome in my head before I act. It’s not about the actions that bring me to the situation. It’s about the reaction. I can’t control what has happened. I can only sway the result. If I can get her out of there. Get her somewhere safe and give her a new start. Then it’s worth it.”
“Give her what your mom didn’t get?”
“Sure. I guess you could look at it like that.”
“Does your mom know what you and your brothers are doing?”
“No. I can’t even imagine how that conversation would go.”
“Why not?”
And we’re back to the social worker, who’s good at getting me to talk. “My mom was taken from me when I was ten. She’s my mom, but she doesn’t know me. Not the man I’ve become.” I pick up the salt and give it a shake over my eggs. “She only knows what I show her. What I want her to see.” I set the salt down. “She’s been locked up for seventeen years. I’d never tarnish her image of her son.”
“You think being an escort tarnishes you?”
“Sometimes the things I have to do, yeah. It can get ugly.”
“Another price you have to pay for being a hero?”
My eyes pump up to hers. While I don’t consider myself one, it sounds like she has something against heroes. I pick up my plate just as she heads toward me.
She takes my plate from me and sets it back down on the counter.
“Your mom might worry about you, but I think she’d understand why you do it.”
She places her hand on my shoulder and moves a finger down my chest, around my nipple to the waist of my jeans. My stomach muscles ripple from the provocative touch. The back of her hands slides into my pants. She grips them and tugs me closer to her.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d continue with our ritual.” Her eyes drop to my mouth. “And give you a good morning kiss.” She tips up and presses her warm fleshy lips against mine.
The unexpected union is soft and startling. My tongue longs to slip out between the gatekeepers of her mouth. But she finishes the slow, teasing kiss with a nibble of my bottom lip.
“What was it you said?” Her amber eyes lift to mine as she sways back. “Small doses?”
