The Sweetest Thing (9 page)

Quentin nodded, perspiration suddenly breaking out across his brow. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “It’s good. It’s all good.”

Harper giggled again. “You don’t look bad yourself!” she said, her eyes wide.

Troy suddenly moved into the room, his gaze shifting from one to the other. “We all look good. Now are you two coming or not?” he asked as he tossed his hands up.

Quentin hurried toward the door. “Don’t yell at me. She was the one taking so long,” he chimed.

As Harper followed behind them, Troy shook his head. “You two are about to work my last nerve,” he said. “And I’m definitely telling Miss Alice!”

Their teasing and fussing continued to the car and didn’t stop until they walked into the late-night music spot. Club 753 was an intimate jazz-and-blues club with a loyal following. The space was already filled to capacity when the trio arrived, friends greeting them warmly at the door. Miss Alice was seated at a table near the front and she waved them over, both of her hands dancing in the air above her head.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Miss Alice chimed as she leaned up to kiss Harper’s cheek.

“Thank you!” Harper said, her bright smile warming her face. “What a nice crowd,” she said as she pulled off her jacket.

“It is a nice crowd. Everett would have liked this,” the older woman responded. She looked from Troy to Quentin, both men still standing. “What’s wrong with you two?” she asked.

Quentin shrugged. “Nothing. Just a little nervous I guess.”

Miss Alice chuckled warmly. “Boy, you know you don’t have anything to be nervous about. Just get up there and do your best. Make your daddy proud.”

“I don’t know why he’s nervous,” Troy said. “He’s already played for Harper, Miss Alice.”

Miss Alice leaned back in her seat as she looked first at Quentin and then at Harper. She leaned in, the gesture conspiratorial as she crooked her index finger in Harper’s direction. She leaned her face next to the young woman’s and whispered loudly enough for both of the men to hear, her gaze resting on Quentin’s face.

“That boy has a crush on you,” she said.

Quentin felt a wave of heat rush to his cheeks as he blushed profusely. He shook his head then turned away, moving to the stage and the band that was setting up to perform. Troy laughed as he dropped down into the seat beside the matriarch. Miss Alice laughed heartily, clapping her hands together in front of her.

“Miss Alice, you shouldn’t tease him like that,” Harper said.

Miss Alice laughed again. “I’m not teasing. That boy likes you and you like him, too. But you need to be careful. You two are still going through some things. Y’all need to take it slow.”

“You tell ’em, Miss Alice!” Troy added. “They’re like little puppies together. It makes my skin crawl!”

Harper laughed with him. “We are not like puppies!”

“You don’t want me to tell Miss Alice about that naked thing you two have going on!” he teased.

“What?” Miss Alice exclaimed. “Naked!”

Harper’s giggles swept around the table. “Oh, no you didn’t!”

The moment was interrupted when Rachel entered the club and made her way to the table. “Hey everybody,” she chimed.

Miss Alice and Troy greeted her warmly.

Harper’s good mood dampened ever so slightly. “Rachel.”

“Harper.”

The two women gave each other the stink eye as Rachel took the seat beside Troy.

“This is so exciting!” Rachel exclaimed. “I’m excited to hear Quentin play.”

Harper turned to look at her. “You’ve never heard Quentin play before?”

The woman shook her head. “No. Why?”

Miss Alice chimed in as she lifted her wineglass to her lips. “Harper has. Quentin’s been playing for her,” she said nonchalantly.

Troy looked from one woman to the other as Rachel’s face hardened, her thin lips tightening into a narrow line. She held up her hand and gestured for the waiter. When the man moved to her side she ordered herself a drink.

“Harper, would you like something?” Troy questioned.

Harper shook her head. “No, thank you, Troy. I don’t drink,” she said.

“Interesting,” he said, “Quentin doesn’t drink either.”

Rachel’s neck snapped in the man’s direction. “It really isn’t that interesting,” she snarled.

Troy held up his hands as if he were surrendering. “Down girl! It was just a comment!”

Rachel rolled her eyes as Miss Alice changed the subject, filling them in on her antics earlier that day. It wasn’t long before they were all laughing easily.

Minutes later the lights dimmed and a spotlight brightened the small stage. The piano player introduced the band, paid tribute to Everett and his musical career, acknowledged the family, and then they began to play. The music was engaging, sultry, and seductive. The entire room shimmied in their seats, enjoying the impromptu performances. The entire time Harper’s eyes were locked on Quentin as he blew into his instrument, stroking it gently as he moved it to weep beneath his large palms. The sounds were beautiful and mesmerizing. The band played for well over an hour and on the last song, Quentin reached for the microphone.

“My family and I just want to thank all of you for coming to celebrate Pop’s life. It means a lot to us,” he said. He lifted his gaze in her direction. “Harper, this one’s for you.”

Quentin’s last solo was haunting and so incredibly beautiful that the whole room fell silent, many moved to tears. Miss Alice tapped Harper’s shoulder and leaned to whisper into the girl’s ear.

“That was the first song your daddy taught him how to play,” she said.

Harper turned to look into the woman’s eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered back.

Miss Alice swiped a tear from her eye as she gently squeezed Harper’s hand beneath her own. “It’s called ‘The Night I Fell In Love.’”

Harper shifted her gaze from Miss Alice to Quentin and back. The old woman gave her a warm smile. Sitting back in her seat Harper was suddenly speechless, a host of questions racing through her mind. She turned her head to look at Troy, who was giving his brother a thumb of approval, his head nodding against his thick neck. Beside him Rachel looked perturbed, her own gaze lost in the bottom of the glass she was drinking from. Focusing her eyes back on Quentin, Harper suddenly didn’t know what to think.

Troy had locked and secured the bakery door behind them. He engaged the alarm and insured the security lights were all on, their reflection shining out to the empty street. In the kitchen Quentin hustled from one side of the room to the other, pulling slabs of butter from the refrigerator and flour from the large bins in the dry goods pantry. Preparing for a long night he stood still for a brief moment, organizing the menu in his head.

Wanting a head start on the hot water Harper had headed upstairs minutes earlier to shower, reaching up to kiss them both on the cheek before she did. She’d wished him a good night and then without asking, she’d picked his saxophone case up from where he’d rested it on the floor and had carried it up to the apartment for him. Gratitude had shone from his eyes and he’d nodded his head, tossing her a quick wave from his hand.

Her touch still burned hot against his face and Quentin resisted the urge to draw his fingers across his skin. She was on his mind as he replayed the entire night over and over again. Once again, he’d had a great time with the woman and he hadn’t wanted it to end.

Troy closed the office door, crossing over to where his baby brother stood in deep concentration. He shook his head from side to side. “You okay?” he asked. “You look confused, man!”

Quentin chuckled as he shrugged his shoulders. He moved back into the pantry for a twenty-pound bag of raw sugar. “I’m good,” he answered over his shoulder. “I was just trying to put everything into perspective.”

“Everything? Or someone in particular?”

There was an edge to the man’s question, and Quentin sensed that there was something more his brother wanted to say. Dropping the sugar onto the counter he leaned back against the stainless-steel table and crossed his hands in front of his apron. He and Troy locked gazes and he shrugged his shoulders a second time.

“You know, I have my own issues to deal with,” Troy started, “I really don’t have the time or the energy to be worried about yours.”

Quentin laughed. “No one said you had to be worried about my issues, Troy.”

“No, they didn’t but I worry anyway. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Quentin, and I definitely don’t want to see Harper hurt. That wouldn’t be cool.”

His brother sighed. “You say that like I’m purposely doing something that might hurt Harper.”

“I’m saying that Harper likes you, and clearly, you like Harper. Any other time, any other place, and the two of you would probably be sleeping together, already declaring your love for one another. She’s a gorgeous woman. If I was attracted to her like that I would probably be feeling the same way. But you two just met and you are both mourning our father. It would not be smart for you to cross that line. Not right now. Not yet.”

“Damn, Troy. You say that like I don’t know any better or like I don’t have any self-control!”

“I say it because I know how much both of you are hurting and I can see that Harper is making you feel better and you’re doing the same for her. I just want to make sure that if the two of you make that jump, that you do it for the right reasons and not the wrong ones.”

Quentin shook his head. His tone was suddenly defensive. “Troy, I’m not stupid. I’m a grown-ass man and I know what I’m doing!”

Troy crossed his arms over his chest, his stance widening. “Have you ever noticed that someone who’s about to make a foolish mistake and needs to defend it, the first thing he does is announce how grown his ass is? Show me how grown you are, don’t tell me,” he said as he repeated the mantra Pop had often impressed upon them both.
Show me, don’t tell me!

Quentin bit down against his bottom lip, his head shaking from side to side as he took in his brother’s advice. He hesitated for a brief moment and then he whispered, “Troy, man, there’s something special about her. I don’t know what it is but I can’t stop . . . she’s . . . I . . .” he stammered then stalled, unable to find the words to express everything he was feeling in that very moment.

The two men locked eyes one more time. Troy tipped his head, understanding sweeping between them. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Hey, all I can do is give you some advice and tell you what I think. You have to take it for what it’s worth to you. And I think you and Harper both need to get past your grief first, little brother. Right now it’s clouding your judgment. Once we all get past this bump, then yes, you should definitely feel free to follow your heart. And when you do, just please make sure it’s the right thing and the right time for you both,” he said.

Quentin lifted his lips in a slight smile. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low, his head nodding.

The two men bumped shoulders in an easy hug before Troy turned and disappeared out the back door, wishing him a good night. Standing in reflection for a few minutes longer, Quentin finally blew a heavy sigh then turned his attention back to the cake he needed to be baking.

An hour later Quentin slid the last dirty dish into the commercial washer and engaged the unit on. That cake was in the cooler and the croissant dough was prepped and ready for the morning baking. He dried his hands on a dish towel, dropping the cotton cloth to the countertop. He paused, lost in thought as he reflected back on his conversation with his brother.

He knew Troy was right. He was still grieving for their father. He missed the camaraderie the two had shared during the early morning hours. It was those times Quentin had been able to talk to the old guy about anything, advice coming without judgment or retribution. There had been a bond between them that had been different from the relationship Pop had shared with Troy. Troy still had vague memories of the family that had abandoned them and all Quentin had ever had was his beloved pop. So, yes, he missed the man, the hurt of it so thick and deep that it sometimes felt suffocating.

But he knew beyond any doubt that the hurt he felt over the loss had nothing at all to do with what he found himself feeling for Harper. His attraction to Harper went deeper than her making him feel better about missing Pop.

Harper had kindled an energy deep in his spirit that he hadn’t allowed himself to ever feel before. Harper challenged his vulnerabilities. She was making him consider things he’d never contemplated and he liked those feelings. He liked the reflection of himself that he saw in Harper’s eyes. And he loved that her laugh ignited his own.

He understood Troy’s concerns. He was grateful to have family who loved him enough to call him on his behavior and who never allowed him to make settling an option. Like Pop, his big brother had never once steered him wrong. Quentin blew another heavy sigh.

He had no doubts that Troy was right. He needed to take things slow. Time would eventually heal the hurt and allow him and Harper to move forward. But until then he had no intentions of looking at the incredible woman as a little sister. She might be his family but they would be kissing cousins long before he would ever see them as siblings.

He wanted her. He wanted to explore where they might take the attraction they had for each other. And after weighing every one of his options he couldn’t fathom any reason for Harper not to know how he was feeling and why.

 

 

Harper had just slipped beneath the covers when he knocked on the bedroom door. It surprised her and she hesitated just long enough for Quentin to knock a second time, this time calling her name as he did. Sitting upright in the bed she called for him to come into the room, granting him permission to enter.

Quentin pushed open the door and peeked his head around to peer at her. “Hey, you weren’t asleep, were you?”

Her head waved from side to side. “No, please, come on in,” she said, urging him inside. She patted the mattress, gesturing for him to join her. “What’s up?”

Moving into the space Quentin eased toward her and dropped down against the foot of the bed. “I just wanted to check on you. You were a little quiet on the ride home.”

“I just had a lot on my mind,” Harper answered.

Quentin nodded. “I understand that,” he said, his mouth lifting into a slight smile. He took a breath and continued. “I really want to apologize about what happened earlier with Rachel. Having grown up with her, I really just don’t pay her any never mind. I forget sometimes that people, who don’t know us, or our history, might perceive our interaction differently.”

“Rachel is in love with you.”

He tossed her a quick look then dropped his gaze back to the floor, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together in front of him. “Rachel only thinks she’s in love with me,” he said.

Harper pondered his comment for a quick moment before responding. “When a woman
thinks
she’s in love, she’s
in
love. For her, it’s very real. You might not think so because you’ve never taken it seriously.”

Quentin met her gaze and held it. He paused as he contemplated her statement. Then he blew a deep sigh and nodded. “Let me tell you a story, this time,” he said as he shifted his body to face her. “Once, a very long time ago, I did take my relationship with Rachel seriously,” he started.

Harper’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as he continued.

“She was my grade-school crush and we became great friends in high school. Then we were college sweethearts and I was so serious about my relationship with Rachel that we were planning to be married once we graduated. I was going to work while she went to law school and we were going to live happily ever after.”

“What happened?” Harper asked.

Quentin blew a heavy breath past his full lips. “I found her in bed with my best friend.”

Harper gasped loudly. “Ouch!”

“Yeah, it was a big ouch. Apparently they’d been having an affair for some time. And that was the end of me and Rachel.”

“But you were able to forgive her.”

“I did. Forgiving her was easy but trusting her ever again is a whole other story. I moved past it and for the most part I still consider her a friend. And I’m not stupid, Harper. I know she wants more than that but it will never happen. Rachel and I have discussed it time and time again and she knows how I feel but she figures if she keeps trying she can wear me down. So that’s my crash-and-burn story.”

“What happened to your best friend?”

Quentin shrugged. “He’s still around, doing his own thing. But we aren’t friends anymore. It might have been different if he had actually cared about Rachel but he didn’t. Brother was always about the conquest. Once he got that notch on his belt he could have cared less about her. Sadly, that hurt her feelings more than my breaking up with her did.”

Harper shook her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It was a learning experience. And like you, I have my own trust issues but I know what I want in a relationship and what I don’t want.”

She nodded, giving him an easy smile. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Well, it bothered me that Rachel was making you feel uncomfortable.”

Harper shot him a look. “Rachel doesn’t bother me.”

He gave her his own look. “Are you sure about that?”

His stare was deep, pulling the truth from her. “Well, not much maybe,” she said, her smile widening.

Quentin laughed with her. A moment of silence clouded the space between them. Quentin lay back against the mattress, pulling an arm over his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Harper twisted her body from the covers and lay down with him, her feet propped high on the pillow so that her head met his in the middle of the bed. She was wearing a pair of cotton sleeping pants and a T-shirt with an image of Bob Marley on the front.

He propped his hand beneath his head, turning on his side to stare at her. Harper mimicked his position; the two reclined chin-to-chin beside each other. Quentin took a deep breath. “If I tell you something else, do you promise not to tell anyone?” he said softly.

Harper nodded. “I’m good at keeping secrets,” she answered.

He smiled, his expression looking as if he were carefully choosing his words before he spoke. His hesitation suddenly made Harper nervous, butterflies flitting in the pit of her tummy. She pressed a hand to her stomach hoping to stall the sensation.

Quentin met her stare. He opened his mouth then closed it, taking another deep breath. “I don’t want to be your brother,” he finally said. “I really don’t. I have no interest at all in our being family.”

Harper lifted her body ever so slightly. A bit taken aback, she wasn’t sure if she should be offended or not.

He shook his head, his face twisting as he realized how callous that might have sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I mean . . .” he stammered, suddenly feeling self-conscious from the stare she was giving him.

“So what did you mean?” she questioned.

Quentin sat up, shifting his body upward to the center of the bed. Harper followed, facing him head-on. He reached out to brush back a stray lock of hair out of her eye. His touch was slow and tender, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin.

“I was trying to say that I don’t want you to look at me like a brother because I’m attracted to you, Harper,” he said. “I want you to look at me like a man you might be interested in.”

Harper felt herself holding her breath. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t move away from him either.

“I know you like to flirt and I hope I’m not misreading you, but I think you’re attracted to me, too,” he continued. “And if you are, then we definitely can’t be family like that.” He shifted his body closer to hers.

Harper didn’t respond, still not moving. Her eyes had widened and she was biting down on her bottom lip.

Quentin leaned forward and gently kissed Harper on her cheek, his lips lingering ever so slightly. He waited a heartbeat for her to object and then he kissed her on the lips. His hands were clutched tightly at his sides, fists pressing into the mattress and he made no attempt to touch her.