Page 28 of Red Hot Harmony

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning.” Camille rolled over on the blankets.

We were facing each other now and there was a whole lot of silence, punctuated by a muffled bird chirping somewhere outside.

“We didn’t,” she finally whispered.

“No, we really didn’t.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Me neither.”

“I liked talking to you.”

“You liked learning my secrets,” I teased.

“Perhaps knowing a man you’re going to give yourself to is how things work between regular people.”

To that, I brought my mouth to hers and kissed it. The kiss had the potential to become more, but we were rudely interrupted by a shrill noise coming from the vicinity of the living room.

“What the hell is that?” I nearly shot up from the bed.

“My home phone.” Camille was suddenly on her feet, fixing her top, stuffing it into the waistband of her jeans. Then she disappeared through the door. The ringing stopped.

“...no, I’ll be there as soon as I can... Thirty minutes... No, don’t call my mother!”

The last bit was shouted.

I made my way into the hallway. Camille stood at the other end, in front of the phone attached to the wall.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

She heaved out a sign. “A pipe burst at the store. I have to go in.”

“I thought Harper worked Sundays.”

“He does. But he’s supposed to bring Ally home first and there’s some merchandise that’s damaged.” She flung up her arms, distraught, then pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Do you want me to pick her up?” The question just came out. I didn’t think about what exactly it entailed, how I went from being just a tutor to an ambiguous father figure.

Camille stared at my face for a long moment before brushing past me.

“There are fresh towels on the shelf in the bathroom.” Her voice came seconds later.

I followed her into the bedroom, where she was already plowing through the closet, hangers rattling. “Is that a yes?”

“You can’t pick up my daughter, smelling like my bedroom and looking like you participated in an orgy,” Camille explained and gestured toward the door that I assumed led to the master bathroom. “Off you go. Shower.”

Ally was waiting for me outside when I pulled up to the condo complex, a small backpack slung over her shoulder, black hair moving softly in the wind. Harper lingered in the background. He was dressed casually. Jeans, short-sleeved teal shirt. The cause of yesterday’s collective crime—Tallulah—nestled in the crook of his arm.

They walked up to the Camaro together and Ally slipped into the passenger seat without a word.

“Hey, Hendrix,” I said, then gave Harper a nod.

His eyes narrowed as he examined my outfit. My hair was still damp, slicked back. I expected a remark, but none followed, perhaps on account of the fifteen-year-old girl whom the three of us collectively tried to protect from the heartaches of adulthood. It seemed counter-productive to point out my possible adventures in her mother’s bed.

“Thanks for doing this,” Harper told me. “I’m hoping Eloise doesn’t find out.” He rolled his eyes.

---