Sean dropped her off at home, and Molly was languidly sprawled across the front porch with a cigarette. “Meet you there at six?” he said.

“That’s quite early for you.”

“My brother’s an early bird, what can I say?”

“What, uh … what should I wear?” she asked.

He smiled. “Surprise me.”

Molly watched her approach the house. “Nice car,” she said. “So that’s the mysterious bad boy? And what were you up to today?”

“Hiking at Runyon Canyon,” Harper said as she breezed past. She only had a few hours to prepare to “meet the family”—or what little remained of it.

“Sounds … sweaty,” Molly said.

Harper took a quick shower, amazed at how much red dust and grime poured off of her. However, as she stood in front of her closet, nothing seemed right. She tried on everything, from the designer distressed jeans she’d spent an entire paycheck on to the little cocktail dresses she’d promised herself went with everything. Nothing was right.

She groaned and flipped the vanity mirror around to the magnified side. Harper bared her teeth and examined them closely. Were they more yellow than normal? Fuck. She pulled out a Crest whitestrip and pressed the sticky film to her teeth. The more the acid in the vomit chewed away the enamel, the more yellow they got. Pretty soon, I’ll have to get veneers. At least for the front teeth. That would be a whopper of a bill.

As Harper went through her closet a second time, her phone vibrated on the nightstand. “Hey, ladies!” P had messaged on Facebook. An unfamiliar name, Sophia Miller, was included in the chat. “Just introducing you two. Harper’s my bestie and one of the most fab models in the area. Sophia owns a modeling company in New York and she’s looking for someone similar to Helena to take over operations in Manhattan. Just connecting you two.” P ended it with a string of hearts followed by a high heel and lipstick emoji.

Harper accepted Sophie’s pending friend request and sat on the edge of her bed. “Hi Sophie,” she wrote. “I don’t know anyone like Helena, but I’ll definitely keep my ear to the ground for you if anything pops up.”

She stood up to hold the black leather pants against her once more. Maybe these would work. Harper hated the pants because when they worked, they really worked. But there was no give, so it was always a crapshoot if they’d fit right. And if they don’t, you’re going to feel like shit.

Her phone buzzed again. “Hi Harper! Thanks for the quick response. Actually, you’re who I had in mind. Interested in chatting?”

She nearly dropped the phone in shock. Me? Managing models? Harper didn’t think she had nearly the experience. She quickly Googled Sophie Miller and found endless hits. The woman owned one of the most prestigious agencies in Manhattan, specializing in both traditional models and “unique figures and faces.”

“Sure,” she replied. “Just tell me when and where.”

“Providence, Monday at noon okay, sweetheart?”

“I’ll be there,” Harper replied, and plugged it into her calendar. Sophie would change her mind as soon as she saw her, she was sure of it. But networking couldn’t hurt. Hell, nothing could hurt your career any more at this point.

She toyed with the idea of trying on the pants, but chickened out at the last minute. The last thing she needed was a blow to her self-esteem. Instead, she grabbed the staple black halter dress with its low back and plunging neckline. It was safe, sophisticated but sexy.

Harper pulled on her strappy black sandals, grabbed the keys to her trusty Camry, and raced down the hall. “Turning up on a Thursday, huh?” Molly asked.

“Something like that,” she called over her shoulder.

She sprung for valet parking at the Omni, not wanting to test her luck with street parking. Sean was immediately visible in the lobby, a head above everyone else. He looked incredible in the crisp black suit with his hair slicked back.

Harper bit her lip. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi, yourself,” he replied as he eyed her up and down. His gaze lingered at her cleavage.

“Where’s your brother?”

He looked around briefly and pulled her to him, hard and fast. “I can’t wait to get you home, tie you up, and fuck you ‘til you come,” he said in a low growl.

“Sean?” Even if she hadn’t been planning to meet his brother, she could see the resemblance. Although Connor moved faster than Sean, more clipped. The military training was evident. At his side was a stunning brunette with a basketball of a baby bump. The kind of adorable pregnant that most women didn’t manage.

Harper was simultaneously embarrassed and turned on. Sean squeezed her waist as he directed her towards his family. “Harper, this is my brother Connor and his fiancée, Sam,” he said.

“Oh, wow, you’re gorgeous!” Sam said. “Sean said you were a model, but … well, you know it seems like everyone’s a model here. But you’re the real deal.”

“Thanks,” she said, blushing deeper. The only advantage she could see that she had over Sam was height.

“Good to meet the woman, the first woman, who’s been able to handle my brother,” Connor said. He winked at Sean.

“Yeah, well, that’s up for debate,” Harper said.

They laughed as they sat down, and two waiters rushed to pull out the seats for her and Sam.

“So, you’re from here?” Sam asked as she scooted the chair farther back to make room for her belly.

“Kind of. Pasadena.”

Sam smiled. “It’s all the same to me. I’m from the east coast, so as long as it’s southern California, I consider it L.A.”

Harper laughed. “Pretty much. Unless you look at the real estate prices, then that’s where you realize every neighborhood is different. So … when are you due?”

“Three more months,” Sam said. “I’m tired of being pregnant already.”

“Do you know the gender?”

“We could, but decided we’ll keep it a surprise. Old school,” she said.

She noticed both Sean and Connor sat back and let them do most of the talking. That was another similarity, the strong and silent type. Still, they joined in from time to time. Harper was grateful no mention of family drama was brought up. After Sean’s rundown of his family, she’d halfway expected a shit show of a dinner.

Connor ordered lamb arancini for the table, and Sean added on the Hamachi crudo. Decadent entrees came soon after, and the table was covered with braised black cod, cured pork Bolognese, Kurobuta pork chops and seafood bouillabaisse—though Harper pushed aside the bread and nibbled on the low-calorie mussels, clams, crab and shrimp instead.

“Dessert?” the smartly dressed waiter asked. “The Noe specialty is butterscotch pudding with brown sugar brittle and a salted crème fraiche. Although the carrot cake with dulcey ganache, chocolate praline bar and hand-churned ice cream is also fantastic.”

“I can’t eat another bite,” Harper said.

“I’m good,” Sean agree.

“Sam?” Connor asked.

She looked at the table, flushed. “Would anyone share the butterscotch with me?” she asked, embarrassed. “I can’t help it! The baby has a sweet tooth.”

Connor agreed quickly, and Harper made appeasing sounds. Fortunately, when the waiter arrived with four small spoons, she got away with just the tiniest of bites.

After goodbye hugs and a cheek kiss from Sam that didn’t feel remotely phony, Harper and Sean lingered against his car. “They’re nice,” she said.

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly set up your family as the stablest of people,” she said.

“True.”

“I know you didn’t ask my opinion, but they seem really solid. If you, you know, have a chance to work with them once they get their business started here? You should consider it.”

He just smiled at her.

“What?” she asked, self-conscious.

He leaned forward and she felt his breath on her neck. “I’m going to fuck the hell out of you when we get to my place. That’s all.”

Harper felt her face flush.

“Get your car,” he said. “I’ll text you the address.”