the best friend of the husband of my best friend. A lot of harm could come from this. From keeping secrets.”
“Or you might help me, which would help them.”
Harper backed toward the door, looking conflicted. “Like I said, I need to think about it.”
“Of course. I appreciate you hearing me out.”
William sat down at his desk and let Harper see himself out. Had he said enough? Or too much? He felt like his future was dangling precariously off a cliff. Would Harper throw him a lifeline or watch him fall?
Chapter Six
Harper walked the long way home, his turbulent thoughts making him jittery. He couldn’t believe the proposition William had made, and yet… those sketches. Harper didn’t know much about art and even less about architecture, but it wasn’t just the volume of William’s work that had increased. The previous sketches had lacked something that the newer ones possessed in spades: imagination, inspiration.
Of course, there was the fundamental fact that he and William couldn’t stand each other. The alpha was, by every definition, a stick in the mud. Harper, on the other hand, was more of a… free spirit. He just couldn’t see how it would work, except that William seemed convinced that it would.
Needing a sounding board to bounce his thoughts off, he rang Zac. The omega was slow to pick up, and Harper could hear chaos in the background.
“Hey, duck. Is this a bad time?”
“Hi, Harper. No. Well, yeah, kind of.” There were muffled noises, as if Zac had covered the phone. He came back on a few seconds later. “Henry’s teething and throwing everything within reach. And it’s Luca’s bath time, but he’s just done a Houdini on me. He’s running around stark naked, trailing water everywhere.”
Harper laughed at the image. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.” He sobered quickly. This was just another sign of how Zac’s life had so much in it, and his… didn’t. “I’d better let you get back to it.”
There must have been something in his voice because Zac was instantly concerned.
“No, hey. If something’s wrong…”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he was quick to assure his friend. “Just calling for a chat, that’s all. Another time, yeah?”
“Sure. I’d call you tonight, only it’s low-key date night. Beckett and I are supposed to watch a movie after we get the kids down. But we can put it off if you need to talk…”
Harper inwardly cursed. Zac’s intuition was too good sometimes.
“It’s nothing, really. Just wanted to chew your ear off over this whole muse thing.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“Uh… maybe?”
There was more noise in the background, something clattering to the floor.
“Sorry, Harper, I really have to go. But I think it’ll be good for you. You’re stuck in a rut. You need a change, something new to sink your teeth into. Why not this? If it doesn’t work out, no harm done.”
“You’re right. Thanks, duck. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“I’ll give you a call,” Zac promised.
Harper tucked his phone away and stuck his hands in his pockets. Even if Zac had been free to talk, it wasn’t like he could have shared the details with him, unless he planned to turn William down. Of course, turning the alpha down was exactly what he should be doing, instead of entertaining the insanity that was William’s plan for them to pretend to be strangers so that Harper could be his muse. How would that work when their mutual dislike was so… strong? But then, maybe that would make it better. There’d be no pressure on them to avoid blurring the lines between muse and partner. In a way, it might even be easier than finding a compatible stranger who may have expectations beyond what the agency promised.
He reached his apartment building, climbing the rickety stairs and unlocking the door.
“Colin?”
His roommate had just gotten back together with his boyfriend, so Harper suspected he wouldn’t be seeing much of him while the honeymoon period lasted. It wasn’t that he was lonely, exactly… Oh, who was he kidding? He was lonely. It was different before Zac was married, before Harper had sworn off alphas to try to regain some sense of himself. His last relationship had been the one he really thought was going somewhere, but it had been made clear to him that he was good for having fun with and not much more. How many times had he been told that now, explicitly or otherwise? Too many to count. Often enough that he was starting to believe it. This whole muse thing