If the woman thought she was turning me off with her anger, she had another thing coming. The more pissed she got, the harder I got. There was just something extremely arousing about her attitude and how she carried herself when she got that murderous glow about her.

“I need a cloth to wash this crap off.” She snarled at me like an angry wolf, then hurled her poor purse to the couch.

“More like a sandblaster,” I muttered, not intending for her to hear, and hung up my suit jacket.

“What did you just say?” She stopped in the hallway with her hands holding onto her hips for dear life.

This wasn’t helping. “It’s a lot of makeup. That’s all I meant.”

“Do you have to be a douche about it?” she asked, jerking her head around.

Nope. I blew out a blast of air and apologized. “It was a mean thing to say. I’m sorry.” The makeup she had plastered on her face was the funniest thing I’d seen in a while. Maybe ever. My best guess was that Roza and a very large putty knife had something to do with it.

Holy shit. Her hair was rolled up in some kind of animal snare. If you thought about it, I deserved a medal for not running away screaming when she opened the door. My ribs strained at the sight of her.

“No, I look like a clown. You’re right.” She puffed out and dragged herself back into the living room and sat her fine ass on the sofa.

Relieved that she didn’t run away and lock herself in the bathroom, I grinned and joined her. “The most beautiful clown I’ve ever seen,” I said and risked touching one of the curlers tightly bound to her head. It didn’t budge.

“More like a clown from a horror flick. Roza just kept layering shit on, one thing after the next. If you protest too much, she gets all grouchy,” Harper said as she picked off imaginary fuzz from her skirt. There was no holding it in, so I laughed and put my arm around her. “I’m still mad at you, so don’t think you’re forgiven because I look like some dime store hooker,” she said and, oh shit, that made me laugh even harder. The glare she threw me did nothing to stop my laugher either.

“I’d definitely pay way more than a dime for you,” I said and hugged her into me.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She narrowed her eyes at me and elbowed my ribs unkindly.

“Yes?” I said, not sure what to say after yet again digging myself into a hole. “I’m sorry. The way I acted at lunch was unforgiveable, but I was fucking shocked to walk in and see you hugging my dad. Can we talk about that now?” I lowered my voice to a gentle tone. My dad was a bastard, but there was no way I was losing the woman I loved over him.

She exhaled heavily and drew her legs up, taking on a protective shell. “He came to the office a few weeks ago. At first, I told him to beat it, but after he talked and explained himself…well,” she said and shrugged, “I felt sorry for him. He knows how much he messed up, and he really does want to make it up to you.”

Hmm. Creative son-of-a-bitch for targeting my girlfriend and making her believe his shitty lies. “So, you’ve been having lunch with him every day for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” My lips curled, and I made a tight fist with my free hand.

“Yeah, I know I should have told you,” she said, and I practiced my deep breathing instead of getting up to smash shit. “But the more I got to know him, the more I liked him.” Liked him. Good God. He brainwashed her. “I am sorry that I didn’t tell you what was going on. You need to know that,” she said and gazed into my eyes. “Over the weeks, we’ve become friends. And I really don’t want to stop our lunches. I know it pisses you off, but it’s the truth.”

Motherfucker. I took my arm from around her and put my hands on my face. If I ordered her not to see my father again, she was either going to hate my guts or do it anyway. This was my father we were talking about. No way could he keep up a nice guy act for very long. If he had been behaving for a few weeks, it was just a matter of time before he broke down and went back to his old ways. I’d wait him out and look like the good guy, even though I wanted to strangle the piece of shit.

“Can we compromise?” I peered over at her. “You know I don’t like the man, but I can’t stop you from being friends with him,” I said as bile rose in my throat. “If you insist on spending time with him, I want to be there. Not one bone in my body trusts him, and I sure as hell don’t trust him alone with the woman I love.”

“He’s changing. I’m not kidding. Every day I see him, he’s making some kind of breakthrough.”

“I still don’t trust him alone with you. Can you do this one thing for me? For now? It’s making me crazy thinking of you with him and I’m not there to protect you. I need you to agree to this. At least for a while. Then we can re-evaluate things later.” Like after he had a temper tantrum and scared you away for good.

She scanned my face, and I could tell the second she decided to let it go. “Okay.”

Relief coursed through my veins, and I pulled her in for a kiss. Kind of. “Honey, is that lipstick safe for human consumption?” I pushed away and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The taste of musty bitter perfume infiltrated my mouth.

“I can’t guarantee that,” she said with red biohazard lipstick smeared over her lips. At least I thought her lips were under there somewhere.

“You know I love you, but this,” I motioned with my hand, “is a bit distracting.”

“Trust me, I know.” She sighed. “I’ll go shower. It might take a year to get these curlers out and this face off.”

“I can help if you want?” I asked, more than willing to get my natural Harper back.

She pushed up and started down the hall. “Fine. But bring the sandblaster,” she called over her shoulder.

“I can definitely do that.” I smirked and followed her, looking forward to a nice, long, steamy shower.