Fight or Flight(55)

She shot me a dark look but backed up and stalked away.

Wondering why I was the one dealing with the intrusive groupie, I gave Harper a sharp look of confusion, which she ignored.

“Sorry.” Vince shrugged. “It happens.”

Irritated that he didn’t seem that bothered by it and that Harper was uncharacteristically quiet, I clamped my lips shut and allowed him and Caleb to carry the conversation.

They had been talking about the great music scene in Glasgow and that led to them talking about bars, then somehow onto restaurants. “There are amazing places tae eat in Glasgow,” Caleb informed us. “Though Canterbury gives them a run for their money,” he said to Harper. “The food is fantastic.”

She grinned, a little of her cocky self finally shining through. “I told you.”

“Yeah.” Vince snorted. “They just work her to the bone for a goddamn dessert, but the food is fantastic.”

My eyes widened at the snarky comment, a fresh tension falling over the table. Harper cut him a mystified look. “Vince?”

I watched a muscle in his jaw flex. “C’mon, I can’t be the only one that thinks the hours you work are ridiculous. Right, Ava?”

I narrowed my eyes. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be supportive? All evidence tonight had been to the contrary. “I think if you want to be great at anything, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication. I think Harper is only twenty-six years old and a top pastry chef in a Michelin-star restaurant. And I think that if Harper is happy to put in a lot of hours to be at the top in her industry, then I’m happy to support her.”

Hearing the warning in my voice, Vince shifted uncomfortably, an expression I could only describe as petulant entering his gaze. I suddenly felt the eight-year age gap between us, and it seemed massive.

As soon as I got Harper alone, she was in for a grilling, because this Vince was not at all the Vince I’d met before or had been led to believe she was dating. He was supposed to support her career, not be like every other whining idiot who wanted her to put them before her career. And suddenly, I was done for the night. Harper wasn’t acting like herself and it was pissing me off.

“You know, I have a headache.” I turned to Caleb. “Would you mind if we go now?”

He immediately nodded. “Sure, babe.”

We got out of our seats and I walked around the table to hug Harper good night. She stared up at me but I couldn’t read her expression as I leaned down to give her a half hug and a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll talk,” I murmured in her ear.

My friend just nodded and bid me a quiet good night.

“Night, Vince,” I said, barely looking at him as I turned away.

Caleb held out his hand to me, and I was momentarily taken aback before I reached for it, enjoying the feel of his warm hand curling tightly around my smaller one. He led me through the crowd and out of the bar, the chill night air rushing over us.

We strolled in silence down the street to where he’d parked his borrowed Maserati. He let go of my hand to open the door for me and I got in, relaxing immediately into the seat.

Nope. Great Scott was definitely not my scene, and watching Harper being cowed by a groupie and then berated by her boyfriend was definitely not my scene.

As soon as Caleb got into the car and drove off, I sighed. “I’m sorry. That was awkward.”

“You seem worried about Harper. Do you not like this guy? We can go back and get her if you want.”

Gratitude and something else I didn’t want to analyze moved through me warm and swift at his offer. “No, she’s a big girl. I just hope she knows what she’s doing. It isn’t like her to allow some catty girl to pretend like she doesn’t exist. Or to allow a guy to come down on her about how hard she works. She told me Vince was different. I thought Vince was different.”

Caleb kept his eyes on the dark road but smirked as he said, “Well, you took care of the catty girl for her.”

I grinned. “Were you entertained?”

“Aye.” He flashed me a wicked smile. “Aye, you entertain me.”

Feeling something I didn’t want to admit to but at the same time I couldn’t ignore, I found myself longing to take Caleb home. To wake up in my bed and see him sleeping there. To drink coffee with him in my kitchen.

They were dangerous thoughts, but they were also persistent. “Why don’t I entertain you at my place tonight? You could … stay.”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel, his amusement dying a quick death. “Ava …”

“Don’t make more out of it than there is,” I hurried to say, suddenly deeply aggravated by his commitment phobia. “It’s still just sex but this time neither of us has to get out of bed in the middle of the night. If you fall asleep beside me I’m going to take it to mean you’re tired, not that you want to fall asleep beside me forever. Okay?” I hoped I sounded dry and blithe enough for him.

His hands relaxed. “Okay.”

Wanting to dispel the sudden tension between us, I mused, “I’ve never had sex in my bed, you know.”

Just as I’d hoped, despite his misgivings, the idea that he would be the first guy in my current bed appealed to his inner alpha.

The car jolted forward, moving faster toward town and my bed.