Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
JULIAN
My calendar is relatively light tomorrow. A quick message to Violet and now it’s all clear. It’s times like this that I relish being my own boss.
It’s late, but now that I have a free day, I want to keep my momentum going. The only way to do that is to get to know Harper better. After all, she’s my muse and if I want to nail this character, then I need to know her inside and out.
Coffee with me in the morning?
Twenty minutes later, she responds.
I don’t drink coffee.
Who doesn’t drink coffee? I can’t imagine starting my day without my morning caffeine.
How do you function without coffee?
I manage.
Can I take you to breakfast then? No coffee, but maybe some orange juice?
I only drink orange juice if there’s champagne in it.
I can’t take it. Her texts are coy and maddening. This is why I prefer old-fashioned verbal conversations. Texts require interpretation. I don’t know if she’s serious or teasing me, but I find myself smiling despite it all. Maybe it’s her sass? It’s not often I find a woman who challenges me. It’s contrary, and I kinda like it. But she hasn’t said yes to meeting me tomorrow, either.
I know this magnificent cafe that serves the best mimosas in the city.
Oh, do share.
I will. Get ready for an awesome breakfast tomorrow!
Sorry, I’ve convinced Zac to try yoga with me, and his first class is tomorrow. I need to be a good role model.
She does yoga? My dick appreciates the vision of her in the perfect downward dog. Bet she’s flexible and bendy, and I picture how that translates to other parts of her life.
I didn’t realize dog walker job descriptions included yoga consultations. I may have to get a dog.
Not the first time I’ve heard that tonight! Harvard wants a dog so I’ll keep cooking for him.
Harvard? Cooking? It’s like she’s talking in code, and I need the key. Was she on a date tonight? Is that why she said no to me? But she cooked? All I know is I want to keep her talking. Texting. Whatever. I want more Harper.
I have an unexpected day off tomorrow. Let’s drink champagne and I’ll show you around the city.
The dots appear and disappear for the next five minutes. The anticipation for her response rivals sitting through a draft with my clients. I don’t get it. Why is she indecisive when it comes to me? And why am I one hundred percent certain about her?
You had me at champagne.
Yes! I do a fist pump in the air. My yell echoes in my penthouse and catches me off guard, acutely aware of the quiet. I want to change that.
Should I come to you to avoid another subway mishap?
If I had it my way, she wouldn’t ever ride the subway again, but I can’t be overbearing. I’ve learned that from my younger sister, Ashleigh. Girls with overprotective brothers don’t see protection as an attractive quality. Keep them safe without them being acutely aware of your intentions. It’s a difficult balance that I’ve worked on for years with Ash.
Sure. I’ll send you the address. I have yoga and work to do in the morning. Noon?
Great! Noon it is. See you then.
I’m not surprised her Tribeca apartment building has a doorman. Lawson would prioritize her safety because she isn’t affording this place on a dog walker’s salary, that’s for sure. I give the doorman my name, and he informs me I’m not on the list. Harper probably isn’t used to building protocols, so I shoot her a text.
I’m here. You didn’t leave my name with the doorman.
The phone rings at the desk, there’s a quick conversation, then I’m directed to the elevators and the sixth floor. I knock, the door opens, but it’s not Harper’s sexy smile and painted red lips greeting me. Instead, I’m facing a scowling, shirtless hockey player.
“Um, I was looking for Harper Cartwright?” I lean back and look over at the apartment number, checking to make sure I’m in the correct place. I am.
“CJ, it’s for you,” he yells into the apartment. This must be the right place. She’s living with Zac Burns? CJ? Is she more than his dog walker? So many questions race through my mind as I attempt to piece the puzzle of Harper Cartwright together.
He looks me up and down, doing the bro assessment. We’re both about the same height, and while he has a little more muscle than me, I’m no slouch. He probably knows who I am, but I’ll be polite.
I extend my hand. “I’m Julian Decker. It’s nice to meet you, Zac. The Havoc look like they’ve got a good team this season.”
He hesitates for a split second before he shakes my hand. His grip is a little harder than necessary. “I know who you are.” Yeah, I thought so.
“Be right there.” Her voice floats from down the hall. This place is nice, great location, but like many New York apartments, it’s not huge. How many bedrooms are in this unit? I’m hoping for at least two.
“Come on in,” he says. I hear the click-click of nails on the hardwood floor and am greeted by a light brown, floppy-eared dog whose body is extremely disproportionate. His stubby legs come to a stop, his long tail wagging furiously, the rest of his cylindrical body swaying back and forth. He’s pretty cute.
“You must be Noodle.” I squat down to pet him, and his entire body shakes, practically convulsing. I look up at Zac with concern. “Is he supposed to do that?”
“Yeah, he’s in protection mode.” I smirk as Noodle licks my loafers. Apparently, this hockey player is in protection mode too. Why, I’m not sure. I’m harmless. Mostly.
Harper rounds the corner from the hall and comes to a stop. She’s a vision with her hair down in soft waves over her shoulders, looking more blonde than I recall. Her hair was up when I saw her yesterday, and it was sexy. But now. Wow! Breathtaking.
The jeans she’s wearing hug her curves in all the right places, and the cropped burgundy sweater hints at the soft skin peeking out from below. She looks like a fashionable New Yorker ready for fall.
My eyes scan her from head to toe, and I appreciate what I see. As I check her out, there’s a low grumble coming from Zac. I do my best to keep my facial expression neutral since I’m unsure about this living situation.
“You look great.” Wordsmith of the year right here, ladies and gentlemen. “Are those shoes comfortable? I thought we might walk today.” She’s wearing those boots girls wear with a little heel. Harper is probably five-ten or so, and I love the extra few inches bringing her closer to my six-three frame. Women often pick fashion over function, but today, I prefer function for Harper’s footwear. I figured she'd enjoy a stroll through the city, taking in the sights, sounds, and energy of the streets. Unfortunately, I don’t get to do it enough because I’m always in a hurry. My driver is on standby if we need to change our plans and skip the walk.
“Yeah, I’m good as long as we aren’t running a marathon.” I appreciate her sensible fashion sense. It’s probably her practical Minnesota values shining through. Her smile has a tender, heartwarming effect on me, and I’m already willing to give her anything she wants. This girl. Damn.
“What are you guys doing?” Zac asks. His scowl betrays his attempt at acting cool. I almost forgot he was here, all of my attention focused on Harper.
“Going to lunch,” she answers quickly. “Tell Harvard to keep icing his eye. He’s too cute to look so broken.”
He gives her a side hug and kisses her temple. Shit. She’s more than a dog walker to him and he’s obviously marking his territory.
She grabs her crossbody bag and slings it over her shoulder, the strap falling between her breasts. I’ve never been more jealous of an accessory in my life. She gives Noodle a head scratch and motions to the door. “Shall we?”
“Lead the way, gorgeous.” Sorry Zac. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.