Page 17 of One Night in Paris

His dark eyes narrowed, the boy, who maybe came to Trevor’s chest, said, “Hey, you’re supposed to be dead!” Lifting his gun, the boy fired at Trevor, point blank, hitting him right in the balls. Trevor crumpled like a wet paper bag.

About an hour later, back in our street clothes, with only a few flecks of paint clinging to our hair and fingernails, we made our way back to my office where Trevor had left his car. An ice bag sat between his legs. He hadn’t said much since the incident. I couldn’t blame him.

Eventually, he said, “How am I supposed to entertain Titina now?”

A laugh threatened to erupt from my throat. “I’m sure you can give her pleasure another way.”

“How?”

My eyes came off the road as I turned to look at him. “Uhm… orally?”

“Oh. Right. Forgot.”

Shaking my head, I returned my attention to the street in front of me. Sometimes, he was a selfish dumbass.

“What did you end up doing Saturday night?” Trevor asked. “Did you just head home?”

Immediately, my face lit on fire. I hadn’t told him. “Nothing much.”

Trevor’s stare was so intense, I could feel it. “Bullshit. Dude, what happened? Did you meet a girl?” He hit me on the arm.

“No.” I wouldn’t be able to lie to him, but I had to figure out how to tell him.

“The hell you didn’t. What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, I blurted it all out to him. “It was her, man. The girl. From Paris. Harper. I saw her at a diner. But get this, she was my waitress! All of that stuff she told me was bullshit.”

“What?” Trevor’s mouth hung open. “Shut the fuck up! She lied to you?”

“Yeah, but then, I wasn’t completely honest with her either. Anyway, it was a shock.”

“Did you hook up with her again?” he asked.

“No! No!” Telling him that I’d given her my number but she hadn’t called was too embarrassing.

“Well, you should. I’m telling you, man. This is fate. You should totally go after her, you know? Let her know you’re still interested.” Trevor leaned his head back with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Talking about her had me wondering. Was there a chance she’d called while I was busy?

At the next light, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked to see if I had any missed calls or texts.

Nothing.

10

HARPER

Aplate of fried eggs, bacon, and buttered toast sat before me—and unlike most of the dishes I interacted with anymore, this one was actually prepared for me. With love.

“Mom, you really didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” Picking up my fork, I cut into the eggs, seeing the yolk spread out across my plate. Mom knew exactly how I liked my eggs. Taking a bite, I savored the salty taste, letting the yolk run over my tongue.

“Are you kidding? You’re my daughter. Cooking for you is one thing I can do to show you how much I love you.” Pulling out the chair next to me, Mom nibbled on some toast. She had a couple of eggs on her plate, but I was certain the bacon would turn her stomach. Probably just the smell of it while she’d cooked it had made her more nauseated than she already was.

“Thanks for letting me wash my uniform while I’m here.” I’d tossed a load of colored laundry in the washing machine before I’d sat down for breakfast. “I won’t have time to do the whites, though.”

“I can do them for you while you’re at work,” Mom offered.

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