“I was cold.”
I turned, marching to my thermostat, raising it a few levels. When I looked back, Harper’s eyes were on my shirtless torso and she swallowed, blinking away.
“That’s okay, I think my clothes are dry, I’ll just—” she reached for them, but I tore them off the chair before she could get to it.
“How drunk was I?”
She took a minute, her eyes finally leveling mine. “I think you need a mental break, Troy.”
My teeth clenched. There was no reason for me not to tell her that I wasn’t my brother. None. She obviously wasn’t out to hurt him; she took care of him last night and seemed genuinely concerned.
That was the Harper I knew. Not sure who the woman I met Saturday night was. We both turned at the sound of my coffee maker starting, which I had set to a seven-fifteen timer every weekday morning.
“These are still wet, I’ll throw them in the dryer.”
“But—”
“Stay put.” I left Harper in my living room and went to throw her stuff in my dryer, adding a freshener sheet.
She hadn’t moved when I got back. “Coffee?”
“Oh no, I’ve got enough of that at work.” She took a seat at the counter and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms as she waited.
“Would you excuse me for a minute, I need to check something.”
“Of course,” she answered curtly. Though I sensed hesitation, so I knew I needed to make my visit upstairs quick.
I threw on a t-shirt and marched up the stairs just outside the hall. Unlocking his door, I stepped in and shouted. “Troy.”
Nothing.
I went to his bedroom and sure enough, he was passed out on his bed.
“Not again,” I muttered. “Come on buddy,” I stalked over and shook him. “Troy. Up.”
He groaned. “Hey.”
“I’m going to say this once. I didn’t cover for your ass this weekend so that you can go get yourself into trouble.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday, where did you go?”
My brother frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Umm…”
“Were you with Harper?” I didn’t want to mention her name but since I planned on telling her the truth, I needed him to know.
“Shit. Yeah. Harper—why was I with her?”
“You tell me.” My voice was menacing at this point. The tone I used with some of the people on my team when they screwed up an account.
In pieces that wouldn’t have added up unless I heard it from Harper first, spilled out of him and I shook my head. “Well, you’re lucky,” I muttered.
“How’d you know?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just clean yourself up. You’ve got a game tonight and I need to get to work.”
His face went white. “A game? I can’t play tonight. If I screw up…”
