Page 19 of Red Hot Harmony

I’d already gone home to change and attempted to have a civil conversation with Ally, but she was still salty and there was nothing else I could do but continue to throw more reasons at her.

Sadly, she didn’t want to hear any of those reasons. She wanted to date and she wanted a tattoo.

“Your boyfriend’s here,” Harper said, looking out the window sometime later. He’d given up on figuring out how to get his lamp work.

Seconds later, an incoming text flashed on the screen of my phone and I rose to my feet, my gaze locked on my daughter, who sat in a chair across from me, all frowns and angles and challenge.

“Dante’s going too?” She shot up from the chair, her face softening instantly.

“Yes.” I nodded grimly.

“Can I come?”

She conveniently forgot that we were having a disagreement and rushed to the spare bedroom she currently occupied to grab her hoodie.

Harper shook his head, but said nothing.

Outside was warm but pleasant and we took two cars. Dante let Ally accompany him and I went with Harper. After being in the 4Runner, his Jaguar felt small and decorative rather than practical, but I didn’t want to offend him, so I kept those words to myself.

The drive was just as strange as Dante’s sudden appearance at the boutique today. I didn’t peg him for a man who resorted to tricks with flowers, and the roses surprised me. His presence at my place of my work surprised me too. He was like that stubborn dark spot on a white dress that didn’t want to come off. Only, I didn’t mind it.

When we finally reached Chatsworth, Harper stopped at the curb around the corner from Lucas’s block, and Dante parked behind us so that we could go over the plan one more time.

The neighborhood was dark, and although the occasional person was outside here and there, both sides of the street were flanked by vehicles, so no one paid us any attention.

Harper climbed out of his seat and walked over to the Camaro. He’d dressed for the occasion—an all-black tracksuit and running shoes, and a black beanie peeked out from one of his pockets.

My friend was taking this rescue mission very seriously.

“You’ll have to come sit in my car with your mom and me,” he told Ally once Dante had rolled down the windows. “Lucas can’t see you.”

Lucas had met my daughter too many times. If he noticed her, he’d guess something was up and our operation would be a failure. And we really had only one shot at this.

Unwillingly, Ally stepped out of the Camaro. “See you on the other side.” She bumped Dante’s fist with hers, knuckles to knuckles.

“Wish me luck, Hendrix.”

A crooked smile touched her lips. “Break a leg.”

The three of us made our way over to the Jag and Harper pulled his seat forward to let Ally slip into the back next to the carrier bag he’d brought for Tallulah. Ignoring me, she climbed in, and rearranged her face into a mask of indifference.

Dante signaled for us to pull out first.

We drove in silence with the top down. No music played. No words were said. The only sound was the sound of wind rustle and the atmosphere was tense.

When we were in front of the house in question, Harper studied the property for a few seconds and then eased the Jaguar forward and steered it into an empty spot between two SUVs, where it wouldn’t be easily detectable in the dark. The nearby trees also helped.

“Okay, sweets,” he whispered conspiratorially, handing me the keys. “You’re the getaway driver.” The engine was still purring.

“What about me?” Ally asked.

“You’re the lookout.”

She seemed satisfied with her role, because no argument followed.

“Harper.” I squeezed his car keys in my palm, my heart a pounding rock in my chest. “I hope you don’t get caught.”

He rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to instill confidence.”

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