His tone startled me, but not enough to back down. “You play a sport?”

Those intense eyes flickered back to me. “No.”

“August played hockey back in college, but his life was suits and dollar signs,” Troy offered.

“I just prefer a quieter life,” August corrected.

I scoffed. “You didn’t seem very quiet on those calls.”

Troy clapped and laughed, and Robert chuckled. “I like her.”

Dropping his gaze to his potatoes, August’s jaw locked before he spoke. “It can be frustrating dealing with people. What about you?”

“I’m a barista,” I said with confidence that could kill knowing how he felt about it.

“What else?” he asked sharply.

“That’s all.” I shrugged.

He narrowed his gaze but didn’t say anything.

“Well, what did you go to school for Harper?” Grace asked.

“I studied art and sciences.”

“What’s that?” Robert asked.

“I specifically studied social sciences and fine arts, like graphic design.”

“And now you’re serving people coffee?” Robert asked, but it was August’s features I was honed in on.

“Yep,” I knew I was enjoying it too much, but getting a reaction out of him was like pulling teeth and I needed something.

August dropped his fork. “Troy didn’t you say Harper did something else?”

“What? Oh yeah, Dad. That picture on page four of this week’s Lines magazine, that was Harper.”

Robert jerked back. “You don’t say, Harper, takin’ after your dad?”

I grinned. “Yeah, if I can.”

“Well, what’s the issue?”

“The team is only interested in…well, they don’t want me.”

“But they used your work,” Mr. Hartman argued.

“As long as it wasn’t signed by a girl, sure.”

“What?” Grace shrieked.

“It’s fine. That’s why Frankie and I were there last night. We’re hoping to get something we can—”

“Something you plan to sign this time?” August snipped.

Everyone at the table turned to him and I answered softly. “Yes.”

Another roll of thunder and the rain started coming down hard.

There was still silence over the tension across the table, so I started to gather my plate and utensils. “It’s getting dark, I think I should be going soon.”

“Oh, let’s wait until it slows down a bit.” Grace’s worried voice released my shoulders. I’d forgotten the ability of a mother’s voice to do that.

No matter how bad things were.

Robert stood, clearing his plate and peeking out the window on his way to the sink. “I don’t think so Gracie, it’s pretty dark and some roads may already be flooded.”

Grace reached over and touched my knee. “Well then you’ll just have to stay here for the night. Or the weekend, who knows?” Grace seemed too excited. “I’ll start the popcorn.”

Troy turned to me. “Mom insists on movie nights when the whole family’s here.”

Family.