“Stop what? Stop acting like that’s the finest ass I’ve ever seen? All round and juicy . . .” I adjust my cock. “But for real, I’m happy to hear she’s single. I do have standards.”
“And I’m happy to hear that.”
“So, what else do I need to know? Don’t hold out on me now.”
“Well, she’s from Los Angeles. She moved in with me a couple of days ago.”
“Is she running from some ex-boyfriend or something?” I ask. “I’ve been itching for a good fight.”
Harper laughs. “No. I’m pretty sure she could hold her own with just about anyone. I can’t see her running from a boyfriend. She is my niece, you know.”
“I’d like to go toe to toe with her, if you know what I mean,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.
She gives me a solid once-over, like she’s grading me somehow. It makes me squirm. Finally, she nods.
“You know, if you play your cards right—like I know you can—I think she could be a good match for you, Penn.”
I flinch. The way she says it, like she’s dangling a carrot in front of me, gives me everything I need to know. “You’re talking about monogamy, aren’t you?”
“Penn . . .”
“I’m allergic.”
“You are not allergic.” She sighs. “But you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life if you don’t straighten up, and that would be such a waste.”
I try my hardest not to laugh, but it eventually comes out in a half chuckle, half snort. “Trust me. I’m never alone. I don’t really see that being an issue.”
“Not having someone in bed with you and being alone are two different things.”
“I disagree, buddy.”
Harper throws her hands up in the air. “I quit. Let’s talk about why you’re actually on time instead.”
“It turns out that I can’t sleep in even when I’m on vacation. How fucked up is that?” I get up, take my hat off, and hang it on a hook by the door. My hand goes in my hair, which needed cutting last month. It’s sticking up everywhere and half-glued to my head. I glance at the doorway again. “Do you want to go ahead and get started?”
“You worried Avery will see you all out of whack?”
“Trust me. Women don’t care what my hair looks like.”
“Trust me. They do.” She ignores my question and goes back to organizing the combs on her station. “So, what’s this about a vacation?”
I mosey over to the other side of the room and pretend to be killing time. Rocking back on my heels, I try to get a glimpse out the window.
“Oh, I have a couple of weeks off,” I say as I take a step to the side. I try to get a peek in again and fail. “Dane, um, you know, he’s . . .”
“Will you stop?” Harper laughs. “You’re going to break your neck. Besides, you can’t see anything from there. You’d have to walk over to at least the chair.”
I spin around, caught red-handed. “What? I wasn’t trying to see anything.” I try to keep a straight face but fail at that too. “She’s hot as fuck,” I whisper with all the emphasis I can get away with.
Harper motions for me to come her way. I oblige in the hope that she’s going to give me the golden ticket I need to cash in on her niece.
“Where is Dane going on vacation?” she asks. She does it in the way my ma used to do when she knew I wasn’t listening. It’s a slow cadence, like you use with a baby.
“Flor-i-da,” I say just as slowly back.
A towel is brandished my way. I duck it easily.
Harper laughs. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”
“You act like this is new information. So,” I say, lowering my voice, “what do you know about her? Give me some pointers so I have something to go on. Please?”
She sighs. “First of all, if you want a real shot at Avery, you’re going to have to change your game.”
“Meaning . . .”
“Meaning she’s my niece, Penn. She’s not going to mess with you if you start fiddling with her the way you usually do women.”
“I do not fiddle with women,” I insist. “Maybe I enjoy them. But I never fiddle with them. That makes it sound like I’m mean.”
Her face softens. “You aren’t mean. I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body. If I thought you did, there’s no way in Hell I’d let you even talk to her. But I’ve seen enough things from you that I think you and she could . . . get along.”
“Define ‘get along.’”
“Penn . . . ,” she warns.
“If you’re going where I think you’re going, you can stop. I don’t go that direction. You know this.”
“But the direction you’ve been heading for, what, twenty-eight years now isn’t really getting you anywhere, is it?”
I shrug. “I’m really doing fine. And right now, I want to be doing fine with her.”
Harper shakes her head like she’s got the upper hand. “You can want in one hand and wish in the other, but Avery isn’t going to be interested in being in Penn Etling’s harem.”
“Ooh, Penn’s harem. I like the sound of that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just think about what I’ve said.”
The door behind me opens. A stream of midmorning sunlight fills the small room as Lorene comes in. Her silver hair shines on top of her head. She’s out of breath, and for a woman close to a hundred years old, that’s not a good thing.
I exchange a look with Harper.
“I’m sorry,” Lorene says. “I’m late, aren’t I?”
Her cheeks huff and puff like it’s taken all her might to get up the stairs and to the door. There’s a purplish mark on the top of her hand that is reminiscent of the one I got when I slammed mine with a hammer.
A purse dangles from her arm. It trembles as she leans against the door. “One of these days, I’m going to remember I’m ninety years old and not the spring chicken I think I am.”
“What do you mean, that you’re no spring chicken? You don’t look a day over twenty.” I toss her a wink as I take her arm and steady her. “You okay?”
She pats my arm. Her hands are cold, the veins a striking blue against her pale skin. “I’m better now. Thank you, Penn.”
Harper wags a finger my way. “Don’t you get any ideas with Lorene, Penn Etling.”
Lorene downright beams. “You let him have all the ideas he wants.” She adjusts her grip on my arm, squeezing it tighter as she gazes up at me. “Would you help me get over to the chair?”
“Absolutely.”
I guide her across the room and ease her into Harper’s chair. She groans as she gets situated with her little green purse on her lap. Harper’s eyes meet mine over the top of Lorene’s head.
“Oh, dear,” Lorene says, squinting to see the calendar on the wall. “I think I have the wrong day. It’s not Wednesday, is it? I’m all messed up.” She raises a shaky hand to her temple. “Dogwood Day isn’t this week, either, is it?”