Page 97 of Jack
“I can drive myself,” Harper said.
“Not a chance.” Jack looked at her, and Conrad nodded. “I’ll take your car. Conrad, get her home.”
Jack gave his keys to Conrad, and just as he did, Stein tossed Jack Harper’s keys.
“I hate you all,” Harper said.
“I can live with that,” Jack said evenly.
“You’re fired,” she snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “Finally.”
She shook her head, walked to the Geo, got in. Slammed the door.
Conrad glanced at Jack. “You sure you want this to go down this way, bro?”
“Keep an eye on her.” Jack turned to Stein. “Ready to hunt down a couple of local firebombing terrorists?”
“Just when I thought Duck Lake was boring. High drama and suspense.” He glanced at the Geo. “She’ll get over it if we find her friend.”
As Jack got into Harper’s little Sonic, he watched Conrad drive away in his Geo. Harper looked like he’d broken a piece of her soul.
Just like she had a decade ago.
“No, bro. She won’t.” Then he pulled out and headed back to Duck Lake.
* * *
And now she was twelve, being hauled home by one of the Kingston brothers, as if she needed babysitting.
Conrad brought her to the Big House, as it were. Tonight’s big rehearsal-dinner event was being hosted by Oaken and his team at the Paddle House after the dance class. The Kingston team would decorate the third-floor ballroom for the private wedding reception. She didn’t wait for Conrad as she headed inside through the kitchen.
Mama Em stood, aproned, at the massive stainless-steel kitchen island, frosting a layer of wedding cake. Already, over sixty cupcakes sat frosted, with Austen decorating the tops of the blue swirls with white edible glitter.
Boo, too, wore an apron and was frosting tiny pink, yellow, and green macaroons. The kitchen smelled of celebration and cut into the jumble of her hot emotions enough for her to take a breath.
Mama Em looked up at her arrival. “Bee! Good, you’re here. I need floral arrangements put together. Just for the guest rooms—Dodge and Echo are coming from Alaska, and Ranger and his wife, Noemi, will be spending the night, since they’re coming from Minneapolis.”
Being pulled back into the Kingston vortex of activity might be exactly what Harper needed.
Conrad came in behind her, hung Jack’s keys on a hook, then shrugged off his coat. “Smells great, Ma. What can I do?”
“Go upstairs and help Doyle set up all the tables and chairs for the reception.”
Conrad walked away, and Harper eyed the keys just for a moment, then spotted the bouquets of flowers seated in buckets near the floral workstation. Two crystal vases sat on the counter.
She grabbed the flowers, unwrapped them, then sorted them out into sections. Blue anemones, white roses, blue carnations, mini calla lilies, cedar branches, and purple hyacinths, along with a bouquet of baby’s breath. She measured the vases, then trimmed the stems under running water and removed any leaves below the rims.
“So you’re just going to send me home, like a child, likePigtails. . .”
He’d blinked at her then, as if she’d slapped him, but she’d been too busy retorting to Conrad to respond.
Now her words burned inside her. And it reminded her of Jack’s statement two days back about his fight with Boo four years ago.
“I was just trying to protect her.”
Yeah, well, Harper didn’t need protection. She wasn’t a child.