The Sweetest Thing (20 page)

Quentin nodded. “Wow! I like that!”

“We still have a lot to work out because I want to make sure it’s a cohesive part of the bakery but I think it’ll be an exciting project for us to tackle together.”

“Maybe expand Just Desserts to that home-style restaurant dining experience I was talking about?”

She grinned. “Exactly!”

“What about your grandmother?”

Harper took a deep breath, briefly pondering his question before she answered. “Mama Pearl won’t consider moving. Not now at least. But Jasmine’s moved in here to keep an eye on her and we’re all comfortable with that. Plus, I can always come back every few weeks and she can visit us. I figure once she visits Memphis a few times we might be able to talk her into staying. Especially when we start having babies.”

He grinned. “Babies?”

“We will have babies, Quentin. At least two. Maybe three.”

“I like three,” he said with a nod of his head.

Harper smiled. “Of course, you’ll have to marry me first,” she said. “My grandmother doesn’t do babies before marriage. She would beat me, you, and the baby!”

“I can do that.” Quentin laughed. “You’ll have to wait a few more months though.”

Her expression curious, Harper questioned why.

“I promised my girl I wouldn’t make any serious decisions for at least six months.”

Harper laughed. “Smart woman, your girl!”

“I think so,” he said with a nod of his head. “And she’s exceptionally beautiful.”

“You think?”

“I do!”

“You’re a lucky man.”

“You just don’t know.”

Harper kissed his lips again. “Take me home, Quentin Elliott. Take me home to Memphis!”

“I’d like to pitstop in New Orleans before we do. A little mini-vacation. You game?”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah!”

Grabbing her hand Quentin kissed the back of her fingers. “You look hungry,” he said, his gaze teasing.

Harper laughed. “You look like you want to feed me!”

He laughed with her as he pulled her back toward the kitchen. As they stepped through the entrance Harper tugged on his apron.

“Don’t forget to thank Dwayne.”

“Thank Dwayne for what?”

“For helping me see that I can have my cake and eat it too. It’s just the sweetest thing!”

As Harper moved back into the kitchen with her family Quentin paused, thinking about Dwayne. Shortly after landing, Dwayne had been his first stop before finding his way to her grandmother’s home. Neither man had been prepared for the wealth of emotion that had passed between them in the early hours of the morning.

Dwayne had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the knock on the room door. He’d been trying to call Harper for over an hour with no success. When he heard the tapping on the wood structure he had hoped that it was her there to greet him with the first rays of the early morning sun. He’d convinced himself that her seeking him out might mean something. Stepping into his pants he moved back into the living space and opened the door.

“Good morn . . .” he started, the words stalling as Quentin stood on the other side.

Quentin hadn’t anticipated the rage that erupted from his core when Dwayne had pulled the door open. Dwayne had called Harper’s name and as the door swung inward Quentin had thrown the first punch, his right hook nailing Dwayne squarely on the chin. The impact had snapped his head back. The second punch sent him sprawling to the carpeted floor as Quentin had kicked him in the abdomen.

Quentin hadn’t been prepared either when Dwayne rushed him, barreling into his midsection like an offensive lineman on the attack. It was suddenly a wrestling match with the duo rolling back and forth across the floor, exchanging punch for punch.

Minutes later the two were both breathing heavily, exhausted from the altercation. Both were bruised and battered having gotten as good as the other had given.

Dwayne gasped for oxygen, panting as he leaned his back against the dresser. “What the hell!” he exclaimed, meeting Quentin’s cold stare.

“Yeah, what the hell! What the hell are you doing putting your hands on Harper?”

“I’m didn’t do anything to Harper!”

“You got that right. You didn’t because Harper put you in your place. Now you have to deal with me and I’m not going to let you ruin her the way you ruined Rachel. She deserves better than you. They both do!”

Dwayne cussed. “Fuck you!”

“That’s right. I said it. Better!”

“Why don’t you get it all off your chest? You’ve had all this bottled up for years now, let it out!” Dwayne barked as he brushed a hand over his face, swiping at the perspiration that clouded his eyes.

Quentin dropped his head into his hands. He shook the appendage from side to side. “You were my best friend. My brother. I trusted you.”

“I trusted you, too. I had your back. Nothing should have come between us. Nothing!”

Exasperated, Quentin tossed his hands into the air. “How do you have my back and sleep with my girl? How do you do that? You knew I loved her.”

Dwayne’s rage was suddenly consuming. He stumbled back to his feet, his hands clenched in tight fists at his chest. “I loved her first!” he shouted back. “And she let you come between us! She betrayed me! And you . . .” His voice suddenly stalled, a sob spilling past his lips. He spun around, his back to Quentin as he stared at the wall.

Confusion flushed Quentin’s face and he gasped as he also stood up, moving back to his feet. Neither man said a word. The television was playing in the background, sounds of the morning news filling the air. Both men struggled to regain their composure. Dwayne shook his head, still gasping for air. He turned back to face Quentin, his gaze locking with the other man’s.

“I loved Rachel first,” he said, his voice a loud whisper. “We were good together and then the next thing I knew she was dating you. She was loving you. She
betrayed
me for you. But I wanted her happy and if you made her happy I could deal with that. You were my boy and for me, if the two people I loved most were happy with each other then that’s the way it was supposed to be. But she came back to me. I didn’t take her from you. I didn’t lure her into my bed. Rachel came back to me on her own. She always does. But you didn’t want to hear that back then. All you wanted was to tell me what I’d done wrong.”

Quentin shook his head, confusion painting his expression. “I didn’t know. Neither of you ever said anything. How would I have known? You always made it seem like Rachel didn’t matter to you. You called her annoying and most times you were either bullying her or treating her like crap.”

Dwayne shook his head. He didn’t bother to respond.

Quentin persisted. “If I didn’t know you cared about Rachel, how was she supposed to know? Did you ever think she might have dated me because she didn’t think you cared about her?”

He moved to the bed and dropped down against it, lowering his head into both of his hands. Dwayne sat down beside him. Minutes passed, neither speaking as each tried to sort the mess out in his mind.

Dwayne spoke first. “Pop always wore his emotion on his sleeve and it spilled out in his music. My father said that was a weakness. He said that I would be a better man if I never let anyone know what I was feeling. I believed him. I wanted my father to be right just one time. Your father was right all the other times. I didn’t think I had to tell Rachel for her to know. She should have known.”

Quentin suddenly laughed. He shook his head as he shot Dwayne a look. “I said those same words about Harper just the other day.
She should have known.
And the reality is she didn’t. She didn’t know what I wanted because I didn’t tell her. Rachel didn’t know either because you never told her.”

“For two intelligent men we surely screwed this up, didn’t we?”

“You screwed it up,” Quentin responded.

“Yeah, I guess I did. And I’ve spent all this time trying to make you pay for my mistakes.”

“So chasing Harper was just your way of getting back at me?”

“Buying the bakery was my way of getting back at you. I like Harper,” Dwayne answered matter-of-factly. “She’s an incredible woman. I like her a lot.”

“She likes you, too. But she loves me. She loves me more than she likes you.”

Dwayne nodded. “She made that clear but you can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

“No, I can blame you.”

Dwayne smiled ever so slightly. He shifted his lower jaw from side to side, the bone and muscle still stinging from the hit Quentin had landed. He tossed his friend a look as Quentin moved back onto his feet. “So what now?” he asked.

Quentin shrugged. “I’ve got to go get my girl. You get to go home.”

Dwayne blew a deep sigh, nodding his head ever so slightly.

Quentin moved to the door. He stood with his hand on the knob, hesitating only briefly. “Let’s talk soon. Maybe figure out how we can make things different between us.”

Dwayne nodded. “Why would you want to?”

Quentin opened the door. Rachel stood on the other side. Her gaze moved from him to Dwayne.

“It’s what family does,” he said as he moved past her and out of sight.

Harper calling Quentin’s name pulled him back to the moment. He had left Rachel there with Dwayne, hoping that the two would be able to figure things out between them. He had a lot he needed to share with Harper. He smiled, just imagining the conversations they would have when they headed to New Orleans for the weekend.

“Good morning,” Rachel said.

“What are you doing here?” Dwayne questioned, his full lips turning into a deeper frown.

Rachel moved past him into the room. She turned to face him as he moved to close the door, taking one last look after Quentin. “The better question is what are you doing here?”

Dwayne shrugged. “You know what I was doing here.”

She shook her head. “Harper isn’t going to sell you the business. She has plans that don’t include you, Dwayne.”

“And how would you know what Harper’s plans are?”

“Attorney-client privilege. But trust me when I tell you Harper’s plans are all about Harper and Quentin. Not Harper and Dwayne.”

The two stood staring at each other. Rachel turned and moved toward the bed, taking a seat against the edge.

He shook his head. “I need to handle some business. I trust you can find your way back to Memphis the same way you got here?”

She laughed, a low snort that resounded with frustration. Rancor punctuated the words that spilled out of her mouth. “Harper is with Quentin! He came to take her home. I think he made that clear. I’m trying to figure out why you seem to be having a hard time comprehending that. Harper chose the
better
man.”

Incensed, Dwayne suddenly snarled like a caged animal. “I don’t want Harper,” he screamed as he shot across the room to her side and grabbed her by the throat, his fingers tight around her neck. Rachel tensed, her eyes clenched shut, her breath stalled in her chest. She opened her eyes and met his harsh gaze. She wrapped both of her hands around his wrists.

“Take your hands off of me,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Dwayne hesitated only momentarily and then he released the grip he had on her, taking a step back. His hands shook uncontrollably.

Rachel moved to her feet, standing tall in front of him. The two eyed each other angrily, years of turmoil and frustration wafting between them. She shook her head and then she pulled her arm back and slapped him, her palm striking the side of his face with every ounce of venom she had in her. The slam shook him to his core, his head snapping back from the infraction. He took a deep breath and then a second and then he slowly turned his head back to stare at her. Tears misted her eyes and his.

“I have loved you my entire life, Dwayne Porter. There is absolutely nothing I would not have done for you and no matter what I did do or how hard I tried it was never enough for you. You never once gave me an ounce of respect. You never loved me back.”

Dwayne shook his index finger in her face, his whole body quivering with rage. “Don’t tell me how I felt about you. Don’t you ever tell me what I did or didn’t feel for you!”

“You never loved me!” Rachel shouted.

“You loved Quentin!” he shouted back.

“I didn’t love Quentin. I used Quentin to get back at you for the way you were treating me,” Rachel said, her tears overflowing. “And I’ve done everything I could since then to make you see that.”

Dwayne closed his eyes and shook his head. At that very moment he no longer trusted anything he had ever believed about the two of them. He’d spent more time pushing Rachel out of his life than he’d ever spent trying to hold on to her. He blew a deep sigh. Quentin had been right. How could she have known when he had never once bared his soul for her to see?

He moved past her, reaching for the cell phone that rested on the mahogany bureau. He dialed the pilot, inquiring about the status of his plane. They’d been cleared for departure, everything deemed safe and able. Disconnecting the call, he moved back into the bathroom and finished dressing.

Staring into the mirror at his reflection, he was suddenly unhappy with the man who stared back at him. She’d said that Quentin was the better man and a large part of him believed her. He’d made choices and done things he wasn’t proud of. Things his best friend would never have considered. But he had loved Rachel. He still loved Rachel but he hadn’t thought twice about putting his hands on her. He suddenly realized that what they shared behind closed doors, the fetishes Rachel yearned for in their bed, was far different from the abuse he had thought to inflict on her just minutes earlier. He had deserved her slap even more than he’d deserved Quentin’s cold-cocking him.

He dialed his cell phone a second time and called for the car. He took one last look in the mirror before moving back into the room.

Rachel was still standing in the center of the room, tears still dripping from her eyes. She was beautiful and she glowed, everything about her seeming different. Despite the fragility of her appearance, he sensed an air of determination about her that hadn’t been there before. She seemed more confident and content. He eyed her intensely, taking note of every line and curve that he had come to know intimately over the years. Her breasts were fuller, her hips wider, and there was just the hint of a bump protruding beneath the shirt she wore. He suddenly saw what he should have seen earlier; what she hadn’t yet been able to voice to him.

He took a deep breath, the air burning his lungs. He moved to her side, staring deep into her eyes. The look was questioning and accepting, saying more than words would ever have been able to. He pressed his large palm to her stomach, his fingers tapping at the hint of new life that existed beneath the skin.

Rachel nodded. “We’re having a baby,” she whispered.

Her tears dripped past her eyes and he leaned to kiss the wetness from her cheek. She let him, her own hand dropping against his, and Dwayne took that as a good sign.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning to whisper into her ear. He met her gaze as he swiped at the moisture that dampened her cheeks.

There was a knock on the room door.

“That’s your ride,” he said softly. “The driver will take you to the airport. My pilot will fly you home.”

She looked confused. “What are you going to do?” Rachel questioned. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

He shook his head. “I need to take care of something.”

“What?”

He took a deep breath. “I need to go see my father.” Grabbing her hand he entwined his fingers between hers. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You and I are going to talk and everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

Still staring into his eyes Rachel believed him. Rachel needed to believe him.

Dwayne kissed her one last time then pulled her along beside him, exiting the space. “Let’s go home.”

 

 

Harper and Quentin weren’t concerned about getting home. They stayed another two days with Mama Pearl. The matriarch was completely enamored of the man, deeming him a keeper. The two had cooked together, walked the neighborhood, worked her garden, and he’d even beaten her in a couple of hands of poker. Her grandmother’s liking everything about Quentin was confirmation for Harper that she’d chosen well; that what she was feeling in her heart was right.

Harper and Jasmine had met with their attorney to clearly define the expansion of their bridal business. Both women were excited by the prospect of opening a second location in Tennessee. Between jokes about franchising the whole operation and evolving across the entire Eastern Seaboard, Harper could very well imagine their having offices from Louisiana to New York.

The third day they’d said their good-byes, Mama Pearl and Jasmine waving from the front porch. Before Quentin had pulled the rental car out of the driveway Harper was already missing them both. She settled back against the leather seats of the BMW 328i convertible fighting not to cry like a baby. Leaving had been harder than she’d imagined. As if he’d read her mind Quentin reached a hand out and caressed her thigh. He looked at her and smiled.

“You only had coffee this morning,” he said. “Do you want to stop and get something to eat before we get on the road?”

Harper nodded and pointed him toward West State Street and Louisiana State University. “Let’s stop at Louie’s Café,” she said. “It’s an institution here.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me!”

Minutes later the duo were dining on seafood omelets filled with shrimp, crawfish, and vegetables topped with an herb crème sauce. From his side of the table Quentin was studying her intently.

“We can stay, Harper. If you really want, we can stay. I’d be willing to move here to Baton Rouge.”

She met his stare. “Really?”

“If it would make you happy.”

She shook her head, tears rising to her eyes. “I appreciate that but the first day I arrived in Memphis, I got the sense that there was something there that I was supposed to find. Something my father wanted for me. I still have a lot to learn about who Everett ‘Pop’ Donovan was and I don’t think I can learn it anywhere but Memphis. For whatever reasons, he loved that city and I’m learning to love it too.”

Quentin nodded. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

Quentin had detailed their travel plans, deeming himself the consummate tourist as he brandished his camera to take photo after photo. Harper couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, the man determined to Twitter and Instagram their entire trip. She posed with a copy of the diner’s menu and again, draped across the hood of the car, to kick off his photo journal.

A few miles north of the city they crossed the Mississippi River and picked up River Road. The top was rolled down on the car and both savored the sun and heat and breeze that paved their way. They passed large stretches of sugarcane fields until they reached Nottoway Plantation and the largest remaining antebellum mansion in the South. Harper could have passed on the tour but Quentin had insisted, determined to provide them both with historical meanderings to take back to Memphis.

Two hours later they were back in the car headed to the gallery of Alvin Batiste, whose art studio was tucked in the back of a brick framing shop. While the two men chatted about absolutely nothing, Harper chose two paintings to take back home. Between all the stops and starts, from the African American Museum, past the century-old cottages at Oak Alley Plantation to the period antiques at Houmas House, it took them the entire day to travel 112 miles. Harper marveled at Quentin’s being able to stretch a one-and-a-half-hour jaunt over a solid two days. When they reached the bed and breakfast in Vacherie both were exhausted, falling asleep in their clothes the minute they dropped down against the bed.

The next morning they started the day with a complimentary breakfast of the Cajun French toast,
pain perdu,
at Oak Alley Plantation Restaurant. Sixty miles later Harper pulled into the French Quarter in front of the historic Hotel Monteleone at the foot of Front Street. By the time they had checked into their room, stripping out of their clothes to share a shower, Harper had laughed until every muscle in her body ached. They had talked about their pasts, their future, and a host of things so random that both imagined they could easily win anyone’s trivia program with the eclectic information they were experts in.

Quentin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun and he told her so. “I like road-tripping with you,” he said as he wrapped a large white towel around her naked body. He patted the moisture from her arms and back as she stepped against him, pressing her front against his.

“Mmm,” he hummed softly. “That feels good.”

“Road-trip benefits,” Harper responded as she lifted her mouth to his, kissing him hungrily. The kiss was deep and sent shivers down both their spines.

“Definitely doing more road trips,” he said when they finally came up for air. “Benefits are nice!”

Harper grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her into the bedroom to the king-size bed in the middle of the room. Quentin was still wet from the shower and he draped a towel across the bedspread before he sat down against the edge of the mattress, facing the mirrored closet doors.

Harper sat on the bed behind him, crawling up against his back. Her tongue was hot against his neck, teasing the line of his ear as she whispered warm breath over his flesh. He watched her in the mirror as she kneaded the tension out of his shoulder muscles, allowing her fingers to trail slow, easy paths across his chest and back.

He smiled at the reflection and she smiled back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her hardened nipples against his back. Quentin watched as his organ swelled full and hard between his legs, responding to her heated touch. Harper watched too, still staring at him in the mirror.

“That’s hot,” she whispered as she flicked her tongue into his ear canal. His manhood jumped, throbbing for attention. Harper trailed a slow line from one ear to the other. “Stroke it,” she whispered, urging him to touch himself for her.

Quentin wrapped a warm palm around the steel rod and slid it up and down. “Spread your legs,” she commanded. He opened himself up wider as they both watched him grow fuller and harder beneath his touch. She pulled him back against her and he shifted his pelvis forward, causing his manhood to protrude even more. Her breathing was heavier and she felt the sweet spot between her legs becoming heated and moist.

Quentin closed his eyes, allowing himself to give in to the sensation sweeping through his pelvis. Harper was still staring into the mirror, teasing and taunting him as she licked and kissed his neck. He opened his eyes and the two made deep, unbroken eye contact in the mirror. Quentin gasped, his mouth open as he panted softly. He tossed his head back against his shoulders and Harper suddenly dropped her hand against his, stalling his strokes. His erection was painfully hard and he was anxious for release.

Sensing his discomfort Harper slid her body off the bed, moving between his open legs. They sat watching each other in the mirror as she backed herself against him. Quentin gripped her hips and guided her down as she slid slowly against him, engulfing the length of him as his groin kissed hers.