Harper sighed, resigned. "What did Aunt XXXX's message say?"

Jamie's lips tightened for an instant before she answered Harper. "The usual. She needs help with the rent. You owe her. Blah, blah, blah."

Harper shook her head. "I'll go over there this afternoon. Sorry she called your landline. God only knows how she got that number."

"Harper, you know I couldn't care less that your aunt calls the landline." She reached over and gave Harper's hand a squeeze. "The only thing I care about is the fact that woman has you brain washed into believing you owe her anything."

Harper shrugged. "I do owe her. I'd have been in foster care if she didn't take me in when my dad died."

"Maybe that would have been better," Jamie mumbled as the waitress arrived with her burger and fries.

"Maybe. But it could have been a whole lot worse. I had a roof over my head and food to eat. What more can I ask for?"

"How about an aunt who cares about you? A member of your family who doesn't see you as a hinderance to her love life when you're a kid and a meal ticket the minute you get your first job?" Jamie's voice rose as she went on, warming to her impassioned speech.

Harper gave an internal eye roll. Jamie meant well, she really did. She was the only person Harper could remember giving a shit about her since her dad died. But Jamie could give as many impassioned speeches as she wanted, Harper wouldn't be convinced she didn't ruin her aunt's life when she came to live with her. The least Harper could do was kick in for some rent every now and then.

And if the every now and thens seemed to be coming a little closer together these days, well, she could always take on a few more freelance gigs to throw a few extra dollars her aunt's way.

For now she just nodded as Jamie smacked her hand on the table and ended with her usual line. "You deserve so much better than that, Harper."

A soft smile tipped Harper's lips up. Jamie might get pissed that Harper didn't stand up for herself, but there was no denying it came from a good place.

"You're a good friend, James."

Jamie huffed out a breath, Harper's quiet words taking the wind out of her sails. "Don't say nice things when I'm berating you for giving into your aunt."

Harper laughed. "Is that a rule?"

"Yes. I just instituted it. No being nice and no giving your aunt money. You need that money for med school."

"Well, I'm not counting myself out of the running for the mentorship yet. And if I get it, I know I'll get a scholarship. That'll make a huge difference."

"You and Declan still working on your scheme to change Professor Costa's mind?"

"Definitely." Harper grinned. "And things are looking up."

Harper filled Jamie in on her morning and Professor Costa's request that she supervise Declan's experiment while Jamie finished her lunch.

As they gathered up there things, Jamie turned to Harper. "Want to come to the library with me? I'm going to get a few hours of studying in before my last class."

Harper turned her back to Jamie and slid her arms into her jacket, taking her time to flip her hair out from under the collar, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get Jamie all worked up again. "Um, I actually need to, um..."

Jamie's eyes narrowed on Harper. "Go see your aunt?"

Harper lifted her chin and met Jamie's stare head on. "Yes. I'm going to go see her. I know you don't agree with me helping her, but it's my business. I appreciate your concern, but enough already, James. I know how yo feel about her. You know I still feel responsible for her. Can't we just agree to disagree?"

Jamie pressed her lips together. "I don't know, Harper. I have trouble standing by while my best friend is being taken advantag of. By anyone."

Harper felt her hackles rise. "Are you talking about Declan now?"

Jamie shrugged. "I just don't want you to get hurt. And it seems awfully convenient that Professor Costa asked him to help you out. Don't you think?"

Harper blinked, not sure what to say, but then suddenly, a white hot heat blazed through her head. Through clenched teeth she said, "Enough already, Jamie. I get you don't like my choices. I would have to be pretty fucking thick not to get it. But they are my choices. I choose to return the money my aunt spent taking care of me. It's worth it to me to get out from under her thumb. And Declan," Harper snatched up her messenger bag, "and Professor Costa are not in cahoots. Maybe I should start wondering why my best friend finds it more plausible that a student and a professor would work together to gang up on me than to think a hot guy might actually be interested in me just for me."

With the words still hanging angrily in the air, Harper turned on her black boot and stormed out the door.

* * *

"I didn't have to take you in when your father died, Harper," Aunt XXXX said.

"I know." Harper dug into her bag, searching for her checkbook. Too bad she didn't write the check before she got here. Her head was already throbbing after the confrontation she'd had with Jamie. Listening to her aunt list all the reasons Harper had to be grateful to her was not going to help that go away any time soon.

"I had my life perfectly planned out before you came along. I could have been first lady of this town."

Harper rolled her eyes as her hand closed around the checkbook. This was one of her aunt's favorite complaints. When Harper first moved in with her, her aunt had been dating a local business owner who just happened to be mayor now. Her aunt loved telling Harper how she was the reason the mayor broke up with her. He didn't want to deal with someone else's kid.

It wasn't until Harper started high school that she learned the truth. Her aunt's boyfriend didn't dump her because of Harper. He dumped her because his wife, along with half the town, found out about the affair.

Of course, Harper found out the hard way. Turned out one of her classmates, Caitlyn Capshaw, was the daughter of her aunt’s boyfriend. She’d taken out her anger about the rumors spreading around town about her family out on Harper. She reveled in telling anyone who would listen that Harper was as much of a gold digging slut as her aunt.

The first Harper knew about the vicious rumors was when she found the word slut carved into her locker and then her very first date offered her money in exchange for sex.

“Now I can’t even pay my rent. If I didn’t have George to take me out to dinner every now and then, I’d probably starve to death,” her aunt said.

George had been on her aunt’s hook ever since Harper could remember. For whatever reason, he believed himself in love with Aunt XXX. But Harper’s aunt only called him when there was nobody else around willing to keep her in the manner in which she’d like to become permanently accustomed.

Poor George. Harper snickered internally at her choice of words. He literally was poor George. Her aunt would have snapped him up in a heartbeat if he had a few more zeroes on the end of his bank account balance. But since he instead made a more modest living running the only dry cleaning business in town, Aunt XXXX only called him when one of her wealthier boyfriends wasn’t available to take her out. Which happened more often than not since most of her boyfriends were often busy with their wives and families.

Harper shook her head as she started writing out a check. If only her aunt could let go of the idea of getting her claws into bijillionaire. George would have moved her into his comfortable home with everything she needed. And God knows things probably would have been easier for Harper growing up with at least one dependable adult in the house.

She sucked back the sigh that wanted to escape her. “How short are you this month, Aunt XXX?”

Aunt XXX’s calculating gaze drifted over Harper before she flounced back into one of the ornate living room chairs. “I need about five hundred dollars.”

Harper’s pen hovered over the checkbook and she raised her eyes to look at her aunt. “Seriously? I don’t have that much extra cash.”

“Harper, I had several extra expenses this month. Do you want me to be evicted?”

Harper sighed and returned her gaze to the check she was writing. Her aunt always had extra expenses—a blouse she couldn’t pass up, dinner out at the most expensive restaurant in town, a new pair of designer shoes. Aunt XXX usually convinced her gentleman friends to pick her up a bauble or toss her some cash now and again. But really, how much could they get away with giving away before their wives got suspicious?

“I don’t want you to be evicted. But I have my own rent to pay, too.” She did some quick mental math. She’d gotten an email from a magazine she freelanced for occasionally asking her for quick turnaround on an article. She’d planned on saying no because her plate was pretty full right now. But if she took it on she could manage this month without resorting to stealing sugar and ketchup packets from the dining hall.

She blew out a breath, stirring the hair over her forehead, and wrote a check for four hundred dollars. “This is going to be it for a little while,” Harper said, as she stood and passed the check over to her aunt. “That’s all I can spare, and I’m not going to be able to take on any extra work until this semester’s over.”

“It’s not like it’s rocket science, Harper. You could do a few more freelance writing jobs if you wanted to.”

Harper bit her tongue from retorting that her aunt could get a better job, as well. Guilt leeched in even as the words rose up. Her aunt didn’t work for most of the time Harper lived with her. She’d had an inheritance that covered her expenses. But as she loved to point out, that money would have lasted her much longer if she didn’t have a second body to feed and house and clothe.

Harper kept her mouth shut and shoved her checkbook back into her bag before turning to her aunt. “I have to get back to school.”

“Fine.” Her aunt snatched up the remote and turned on the television, completely disinterested in Harper now that her money problems had been solved. Again.

As Harper walked out of her aunt’s townhouse, she had only one thing on her mind—Professor Costa’s mentorship. She’d do just about anything to get him to change his mind so she could be guaranteed a way out from under her aunt’s thumb.

As she stepped into the bright fall sunlight, she dug out a pair of sunglasses and her phone. She scrunched up her face and then huffed out a breath before sending Declan a two word text—I’m in.

* * *

Harper showed up in black pants and a white, button-down shirt, exactly as Declan instructed her. She was nervous as she entered the kitchen of the reception hall next to the campus chapel. Her last run in with Declan's fraternity brothers hadn't exactly gone well.

"Hey." Declan made his way over to her as soon as she walked through the back door.

She blew out a breath and the nerves twisting her stomach into knots eased just a little. A soft, squishy feeling replaced it as she realized the calming effect he had on her.

"Hey," she said back with a soft smile.

"Ready for this?"

She shrugged. "Ready might be too strong a word. Maybe mildly willing?"

He laughed and hugged her close. "You have nothing to worry about. Well, except maybe," he reached over to pick something off of one of the stainless steel prep tables that filled the big kitchen and shook out a black vest, "this. This sad excuse for fashion should have us all worried."

She rolled her eyes with a laugh and yanked the vest from him. "Figures you'd worry about making a fashion faux pas instead of worrying about more important things."

"More important than looking good?" His lips twisted into a sardonic smile and he smoothed a hand over his hair before striking a pose. "What would my father's fans think if they saw me in this?"

"Hmm," she tapped her lips with the tip of her finger and looked him over thoughtfully, taking in his outfit that matched her own. "Maybe they'd think it's about time the over privileged rock star's son got a real job."

He placed a hand over his chest and affected a look of horror. "Moi, get a job? And ruin this manicure?"

She burst into giggles. One thing had become clear in the last few weeks. Declan Cooper definitely did not fit the mold of the over privileged son of a rock star. He was as likely to worry about his fashion choices and the condition of his nails as a she was. Of course, his status as son of a rock star probably helped instill his easy confidence. Who he was meant there would always be people bowing and scraping for his attention, no matter what he showed up wearing.

But he didn't take advantage of that fact. At least not that she'd seen.

And that fact alone made her like him even more.

She pulled in a deep breath. "Okay, tell me what I need to do."

Declan pulled her into the dining room where several of the pledges from Declan's fraternity waited, all wearing the same white shirt, black pants and vest. Declan quickly went over the details of the dinner service and what was required of all of them. He gave everyone a few table numbers, but when it came to Harper, he only said one number.

"How come I only have one table to take care of?" she asked once all the guys were busy setting up their tables.

"You're not really here to wait tables."

"I'm not?” She swept a hand from shoulder height down her front. "The ensemble implies otherwise."

He grinned her favorite grin. "I meant, you don't really have to do this. I gave you Professor Costa's table. He'll be sitting there with Professor Leary and Dean Steuben and a few other people from the department."

Harper widened her eyes when he listed the names and a herd of elephants started turning somersaults in her belly.

"I'm going to spill something on them." She couldn't get her voice to come out as more than a whisper.

His grin widened. "No, you won't."

"I will. Or I'll say something horrendous that will make them all flunk me in the rest of my classes."

"You'll be fine." He pulled her into a hug.

"Declan," she said into his chest, borrowing closer in an attempt to hide herself, "I can't do this."

"Please. You write textbooks. You impressed Professor XXXX. Professor Costa is already changing his mind about you. You're brilliant. I think you can manage to put a couple of plates down in front of a couple of people."

She breathed him in and let his warm and woodsy sent fill her head, calming her. She took a few more deep breaths and then pushed away from him.

nd as it turned out, he was right. She managed to carry plates and refill glasses and make sure everyone at her table had what they needed without one dropped plate or tipped over glass. Even better, the occupants of the table--the professors she most wanted to impress--didn't act as if she were invisible. When she addressed Professor Dobson by name when asking him what he wanted to drink, he took immediate notice and asked if she'd taken one of his classes. She'd had him for Chemistry in her freshman year and told him how much one of his study tips helped her over the last few years. After that several professors made small talk and two actually remembered her in their classes. Best of all, Professor Costa introduced her to his wife....as one of his most promising students.

She was practically dancing across the room once the time came to clear the dinner plates away.

"How's it going?" Declan asked as they passed each other in the kitchen.

"Great!" She grinned and couldn't hold herself back. She flung herself into his chest and laid a smacking kiss on his lips. "You were so right. It's going so well and I've definitely gotten on Professor Costa's radar."

He dropped his arms to rest loosely around her waist and grinned at her. "Told you so."

She rolled his eyes and smacked his arm playfully. "Anybody else would keep that to themselves."

"Maybe, but they'd be thinking it."

She leaned in and squeezed him tightly wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. The last time she'd been this happy was before her father died and she moved upstate to live with her aunt.

He squeezed her back and they stood in the kitchen, ignoring the other servers streaming back and forth past them. Her eyes dropped closed and she snuggled her head into his chest. His lips touched the top of her head and she could feel his breath as he inhaled and exhaled. She could feel his heart beating under her cheek. There in the middle of the crowded kitchen, she felt like they were all alone with not another soul in the world. His warmth and his woodsy cologne filled her, and the moment couldn't have been more intimate had they been naked and horizontal.

"Well, isn't this cozy?"

The sneering voice made them pull back from each other. Harper looked up to find Declan' gaze directed over her head, eyes narrowed. She glanced over her shoulder to find Drew and two other frat brothers standing behind them in the kitchen. She swung her gaze back up to Declan. He looked pissed.

"What are you doing here?" Declan’s voice made Harper shiver. Thank goodness that tone wasn't directed her way. But as much as she was enjoying standing there being held by Declan, they didn't need trouble right now. She had too much riding on this.

She slid out of Declan's arms and turned to face the newcomers.

"I see you're making use of everything your little friend has to," Drew paused here and his eyes raked up and down Harper's body, "offer."

Declan growled under his breath and took a step forward, fists clenched at his side.

Harper stepped sideway to block him from moving forward, but not allowing her eyes to leave Drew and his sneering friends for even a second. She ran a soothing hand up and down Declan's arm. "Don't let him get to you. This is what he wants."

Declan's eyes darted down to Harper before moving back to the three guys standing across from them. He gave a slight dip of his chin, letting Harper know he heard her and she'd gotten through. When his body relaxed slightly and he crossed his arms over his chest, she gave an internal sigh of relief.

"I asked you once, Drew, what you're doing here. Don't make me ask you again." Declan's meaning was clear and this time Harper sighed out loud.

"We just wanted to come see if we could help," Drew said with a snide smile.

Harper snorted. Enough with the drama already. She straightened her spine and picked up a tray from one of the stainless steel work tables. "From what I understand, Drew, you're not the most popular guy in your house these days. Showing up here when you're not supposed to and when you are definitely not welcome. How do you think all your frat brothers will feel about that?"

Drew held his hands out in front of him. "Hey, I'm just here to help. I didn't come to start trouble."

His tone and his smirk said otherwise.

"I'm going to go check on my table." Harper squeezed Declan's arm and whispered too low for Drew to hear, "Be good, please."

He nodded and she gave him a small smile before heading back out into the dining room, praying she did the right thing leaving those two alone together.

It's not like Declan would get into a fight with Drew in the middle of the dining room or something.

* * *

Declan watched Harper leave the kitchen and turned back to Drew. "Leave."

"I want to help."

"We don't need your kind of help. You need to go." All Declan could think about was how important this night was to Harper. Hell, just two minutes ago she'd thrown herself into his arms because she was so excited. Things had definitely been going well between them, but up until then, she'd held onto a little of her reserve, a little of her wariness. That was the first time when he'd got even the smallest taste of full-on, unbridled Harper.

And that one tiny taste left him wanting more.

So it went without saying he'd have been less than happy with any of the brothers who came in and interrupted things at just that moment. But the fact that it was Drew made his head feel like it was about to explode off the top of his head. There was no reason for him to be there except to stir up shit.

"Now, Declan, what do you think PRESIDENT OF FRAT HOUSE would say about your nasty attitude?" Drew's condescending tone set Declan's teeth on edge.

"I'm pretty sure he'd wonder what you were doing here, too. You're not exactly known for volunteering your time out of the goodness of your heart," Declan said.

Drew shook his head. "That's not very nice. I just thought I could help you out with the pledges. You know, bury the hatchet after everything that happened.

"Not going to happen, Drew." Declan decided it was time to cut this short and walked back out into the dining room.

"Yeah, I can see that," Drew said with a snort, following right on Declan's heels. "Looks like you were thinking of burying something, too. Right in that hot piece of--"

Drew's words were cut off by Declan's fist. He didn't even make the decision to do it. Something inside him twisted into a cold rage and he needed to stop the words coming from Drew's mouth.

Drew flew back and tripped over a serving cart. He landed flat on his back...in the middle of Professor Costa's table.

Fuck.

His gaze moved from the mess he'd made of the formal dinner to the movement in the entryway. Of course Harper hadn't missed the action. Her hand flew to her mouth, her blue eyes, wide and dark in her pale face, were glued to Drew. Until they slid over to where Declan stood shaking his hand, his knuckles already starting to swell. He ground his teeth together and worked to regain a hold on his temper. He'd never been so torn in his life. Every instinct in his body shouted at him to keep going after Drew. To keep pummelling him until the other man learned never to open his mouth to trash talk Harper.

But he just barely managed to contain himself, stopped cold by the look on Harper's face. That look on Harper's face slammed into him. It was worse than the night in the basement two years ago when he'd ignored her and let her walk away. This time he'd fucked up her dream. The one thing she'd wanted since she was twelve years old.

The earlier scene in the kitchen came back, playing like a movie in his mind. It was like his version of death, the way the most important moments of your life play themselves over again in your head. The look on Harper's face told him he was as good as dead to her. And all he wanted to do was rewind to three minutes ago when he held her in the kitchen and nothing had ever felt as good. As right. He'd have given his life for five more minutes of just that.

But as he watched, tears welled in Harper's eyes. Before he could make himself move forward, take so much as a step, she spun around and broke into a flat out run.

His gut clenched. She was gone. And there's no way he would charm his way out of this one. She'd never forgive him. And God, could he blame her?

"Mr. Cooper?"

Professor Costa's steely voice came from behind Declan.

Fuck.