“I’m not fighting her,” I’m unable to keep the bitter edge from my voice. “And she’s got a real problem with making decisions. Not sure Mom’s pot roast is enough. She might need variety.”
Harper holds out her fist. “Just one glove, please, Trevor.”
“Coming right up, my lady.”
“You aren’t serious,” I scoff. “What the fuck are you going to do with that? It will feel like a mosquito bite.”
“I’ve got speed,” she says, winking at Tony. “Which is what you’re lacking, right? What are you afraid of?”
That if I look at her any longer, my heart will stop beating and fall out of my chest. “You can’t just come here—”
“Oh, I can’t, huh? But you did,” she says, entering the ring with her one glove, the scent of her invading my nostrils. Rip chuckles, eyeing Harper, fully amused. He likes her, I can tell. Tony pulls her in for a hug, and they exchange whispers before she smiles and turns to me. “But you can come to New York, right? You can just barge into my life,” she says, jumping back and forth on her Nikes in an impressive show before ripping off her sweatshirt.
Catcalls come from all sides as she dances around me in nothing but leggings and a sports bra, her perfect tits pressed together in a way I refuse to indulge in.
“Saw Troy at LaGuardia,” she gestures towards her discarded hoodie, “the shirt’s for you. He said you need to worship more than the Cowgirls.”
“Hey, hey,” Trevor said. “Them’s fighting words in this house.”
“Yeah?” Harper says with a smile before looking over to me. “Looks like I’m in the right place.”
“Wrong, thanks for bringing it by, but there was no need to hand-deliver it. Mail would have done just fine. And don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Gloves up, asshat, I’m not fighting one of your cows.”
“I’m not throwing a punch at a woman. You’re being ridiculous.”
“I love her,” I hear Trevor say to Tony.
I do too. And at this point, I’m close to hating her because of the way she keeps making me fall for her, every single time I lay eyes on her before she rips my soul away from me. Tony grins over at him with just as much a fucked-up reply. “I’m getting hard just watching this.”
“I can fucking hear you both.” They both grin and shrug as Harper steps up to me in the center of the ring.
“Come on, champ, dukes up.”
“You can pack it up, Harper. I’m done fighting with you.”
“Punk,” she says, stepping forward and landing a jab on my chin. I roll my eyes.
“This isn’t cute,” I growl.
“I agree. Your behavior right now is deplorable. Not to mention what you did back in New York.”
“What I did?”
“You come to New York after two—” she lands another blow and another, and I don’t flinch. It’s like being hit with a pillow, “—years and expect me to just jump into your arms like a willing pound puppy.”
Gloves down, I stand there taking her in, her solid body toned to perfection, her skin porcelain, twin braids hanging loosely from her beanie, dancing over her shoulders with her movement. All I want is to grab her and fuck her up, with my lips, my tongue, my cock, the way she’s fucking with me. I’m in the mood to punish her, and it’s apparent she feels the same.
She lands a solid right to the mouth, and the force of it without my guard takes me by surprise. Copper melts on my tongue as she attempts to unleash my beast. She’s happily playing with fire, like I’m a joke, like we’re a joke.
“Ahhhh,” she says, crossing her gloves like she’s in a karate fight. This time my lips turn up briefly as the guys chuckle in the corner. My smile only angers me further.
“You underestimate me,” she says, landing another to my chest and stomach. I stand there completely limp as she dances around me, taking potshots.
“As I was saying, you come to New York after two years, ask me to spend Christmas with you, start a fight in a department store that turns into a street brawl, make these grand declarations and tell me you want me to just drop everything and come,” jab, jab, jab, “back here, for what was it?”
“Harper, this is personal,” I grunt, taking another right to the temple.