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For fuck’s sake. “What can I do for you, Miss Thacker?”
Her smile dimmed at his impatient tone. “It’s about the appetizers for the event.”
“I told you I want Harper to decide these things.”
Belinda’s mouth flattened. “She doesn’t find any of my suggestions suitable.”
“Then they’re not suitable.” Simple.
“Knox —”
“Miss Thacker, I didn’t invite you to call me by my first name.” Her cheeks reddened. “I gave you my orders when I hired you. They were not complicated. I specified all the details of the event that I wished to be left for Harper to decide.”
“She wants steak and potato wedges on sticks!” Belinda took a deep breath and lowered her eyes. “I apologize for my outburst.”
Steak and potato wedges on sticks? echoed Levi, a smile in his telepathic voice. That actually sounds pretty good.
“Do you remember the all-important order I gave you before sending you Harper’s way, Miss Thacker?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“What was it?”
Belinda met his gaze. “You told me to give her whatever she wants.”
“Then do it. Now I have somewhere I need to be…”
She straightened her blazer. “Thank you for your time, Mr Thorne,” she said stiffly.
As the cambion strode off, Levi asked Knox, “Where are we going?”
“To the Xpress bar to collect my mate, who may or may not be conscious by the time we get there.”
Raini clinked her glass against Harper’s and loudly slurred, “Best. Night. Ever.”
Harper nodded, smiling. “In the history of ever!” She couldn’t understand how they weren’t drunk. They’d been there for hours, drinking martinis, mojos, and shots. Harper could still feel the burn of the tequila in her throat… though it was possible that the burn was more to do with the fun they’d had on the karaoke. Or maybe it was because of how loud they had to speak to be heard over the laughing, hooting, singing, and swearing.
Bopping her head to the thumping music, Khloë grabbed Harper’s arm. “Dude, let’s race.”
Harper held up her blue martini; it glowed in the dim lighting. “I need to finish this first. Can you yodel?”
“Sure,” replied Khloë, and went on to do just that.
“Yoo-hooing isn’t yodeling,” Raini told her.
Khloë frowned. “Oh. Then no, I can’t yodel. We should learn. Is there a yodel school? We could go there. Or to a beatboxing school!”
“Ooh, yeah!” said Harper, eyes wide. “Dude, I will totally go with you.”
“Me too.” Raini adjusted her cleavage. “I always wanted to learn how to beatbox. And how to use a crossbow.”
“He’s not even that cute,” Devon muttered to herself, playing with a cardboard coaster. “And he pulls my hair. Pulls. My. Hair.”
“Who?” asked Harper before she swallowed some of her martini; the cool liquid slid down her parched throat.
Devon looked up and straightened her shoulders. “I should call him. I should. Shouldn’t I?”
“Are we talking about the hound?” asked Raini, reapplying her lipstick with a shaky hand.
“He has a girlfriend.” Devon shook her head. “But I don’t care. Why would I care? She’s welcome to throw balls for him and scratch his belly.”
Khloë puffed out a long breath and fanned herself. “Why do you think he has a girlfriend?”
“I heard someone talking about it. But it’s fine. It really doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about me.” Devon turned to Harper. “Let’s talk about you.”
Harper pursed her lips. “Nah.”
Devon grabbed her hand. “You can stop pretending you’re not upset. This is us. We know you. We know when you’re hurting. And what hurts you hurts us.” The hellcat leaned forward, and Harper got a whiff of her hairspray. “Let us help you. We’ve got to stick together at times like this. We’ve got to be tight, like those sisters on Charmed. What do they say? Oh yeah, the power of three… something, something, free!”
“There are four of us,” Harper pointed out.
Devon patted her arm. “Sweetie, a little miscounting never hurt anyone.”
“I don’t need help,” said Harper. “I’m not the one who was hurt. And it’s not like me and Carla are close or anything.”
“That’s not your fault,” insisted Devon. “And it doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad for her.”
Khloë pointed a finger at Devon. “Pure wisdom.”
Raini tilted her head. “I wonder where things go when we delete them from our computers.”
Harper frowned. “Huh?”
“At first, it goes to the recycle bin,” said Raini. “But what about when we delete all our stuff from the recycle bin. Where does it go?”
“Maybe the FBI has it all in a secret database,” suggested Harper.
Devon fluttered her fingers. “Or they could be just particles in the air.”
“Who cares?” Khloë slammed down her empty glass on the table. “I need another Fuzzy Duck.”
Raini grimaced. “I don’t know how you drink them.”
“Don’t be a hater,” said Khloë. “They have pineapple juice. That means I’m getting vitamins.”
