How to Tame a Silver Fox – Episode 17
Chris held Harper’s hand as though checking her wrist required his full concentration. His thumb moved once across the reddened skin, and the touch sent warmth up her arm. Neither of them mentioned that the examination had lasted too long.
Maria cleared her throat from a tactful distance. Harper pulled away, suddenly aware of the students still lingering around the plaza. Chris’s expression closed the instant contact ended.
“We should document the injury,” he said. Practical words restored the safe distance between them. “Then you file the report.”
Harper noticed the deliberate phrasing. He had not said he would file it or make the decision for her. “I will,” she agreed.
At campus security, Harper gave her statement while Maria submitted the recording. Chris sat outside the office rather than entering, respecting the boundary Harper had demanded even though his restless pacing was visible through the glass.
The officer explained that Bryan would be barred from campus while the complaint was reviewed. Harper signed the paperwork, each stroke of the pen severing another thread that had kept her afraid of him.
When she emerged, Chris stopped pacing. “Done?”
“Done.” She expected questions, but he only opened the building door for her. His restraint felt oddly intimate, a sign that he had listened even when their argument suggested otherwise.
Maria declined a ride and promised to text later. Before leaving, she leaned close to Harper. “For someone who calls you a kid, he definitely doesn’t look at you like one.”
Harper refused to react until Maria was gone. Then she found Chris watching her with narrowed eyes. “What did she say?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Harper borrowed his favorite evasion and walked toward the car. His low laugh followed her.
During the drive home, silence no longer felt hostile. Harper watched his hands on the wheel and remembered one of them wrapped around hers. Chris caught her staring but chose not to tease her.
“Thank you,” she said at last. “For not stepping in.” The sentence sounded strange when she knew how badly he had wanted to protect her.
“I almost did.” Chris’s honesty carried no pride. “When he touched you, I almost forgot every promise I made last night.”
Harper’s pulse quickened. “Promises to my father?”
“Promises to you.” His eyes remained on the road, but the distinction filled the vehicle.
At the house, Harper found a padded envelope resting against the front door. There was no return address, only her name written in block letters.
Chris opened it after she nodded permission. Inside lay a photograph of Harper and Chris in the car the night before, taken through the rain-streaked windshield. On the back, someone had written: *Bryan was only the warning.*
