Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
JULIAN
“Well, in that case, we’ll have that bottle of Aces. And two glasses of water, please.” She nods and leaves our table. Harper is adorable. And sexy. Watching the surprise on her face when we entered this speakeasy cafe will be a core memory for me. The blush of her cheeks when I whispered in her ear is my new favorite color. The way our hands fit together perfectly, the innocent touch of her skin to mine, makes me crave more. I’ve never had a reaction like this, and while it should scare me, it doesn’t. It’s different. Harper’s different. And I want to get to know her more.
“This is a special occasion, worthy of champagne, wouldn’t you say?” Anything she wants. It’s hers.
“It is?” Another surprised look. I’m making it my mission to surprise her as many times as possible today because I can’t get enough of that expression. She looks innocent, thoughtful, playful, and fucking delicious.
“It is.” I reach for her hand because I need to touch her. Today’s a special occasion, at least for me.
“Why is that?” She tilts her head, cautious, waiting for my answer. There it is. Those eyes sparkle with curiosity. What’s going through her mind right now? I try to come up with an alternate response to the truth.
Because today is when I started falling for you. I almost say it but think better of it. Talk about freaking this poor girl out. Dial it back, Decker. Give her time to adjust. But there’s no doubt what I want, and it’s Harper Cartwright.
“It’s your welcome to New York.” It’s lame, but I don’t want to scare her off with a declaration of love on our first date.
I’m only kidding myself if I think I’m here to learn more about her for my book. I want to learn more about her for me. Taking a breath, I compile the list of questions I use when developing a new character. It’s a perfect starting point to uncover the unique traits and characteristics that make Harper so special.
She looks up from her menu. Her amber eyes dance with delight. She’s enjoying herself. And I did that. One point for me.
“So, are you living with Zac?” I blurt this question instead of casually slipping it into conversation. Smooth. What is it about this woman that leaves me befuddled? I had a plan, but one glimpse of her happiness, and she scattered my thoughts and sent me off-script.
I’m a brilliant conversationalist. One of the best. I built my career, hell, my whole agency, on my ability to talk to people, learn their motivations, get them what they want, or convince them they need what I have. Earning trust through communication is one of my greatest skills. With Harper, I’m literally at a loss for words.
A new surprised look graces her face. This time, her deep red lips form a perfect O, and I think of places I’d like to see her mouth. While her makeup is subtle and natural, she seems to like bold lip colors. I’m practically feral at this point thinking about them. Grinning shyly, she contemplates her response.
“Yeah, we live together. He’ll be traveling a lot with the season starting. Noodle and I will miss him, but as long as we have each other.” She shrugs.
The pop of a champagne cork interrupts us, and her face fills with happiness. The waiter pours a small amount for me to taste, but I nod no and direct his attention to Harper. She takes a sip and smacks her lips. It’s not sensual, but my dick doesn’t seem to notice the difference.
“Ohmygodthisissogood.” She holds her flute out for a refill, much to the waiter’s delight.
“I’m glad you like it.” He’s enamored by her giddiness and pure joy. I’d hate for him to lose his job, but he needs to dial down the friendliness. He pours me a glass and directs his attention back to Harper. Yes, he’s doing what I asked, but still. “Are you ready to order?”
Harper looks indecisive. She twists her mouth and bites her bottom lip. Holy hell, this woman is killing me.
“I’m sure it’s all good. Surprise me?” Her absolute delight brightens the room and scorches my heart. It’s a privilege to watch her face light up with enjoyment. I love how she’s focused on the moment, the experience. I admire her ability to be wholly present.
The gleam in the waiter’s eye is off the charts. He’s charmed by her too. “Any allergies, dietary restrictions, or foods you don’t like?”
“No, nothing. It all looks fantastic.” He nods his head. “Got it.”
He turns his attention to me. I take a page out of Harper’s playbook. “Surprise me too, but with something different. That way you can taste me, I mean, mine too.” Around her, I turn into a bumbling fool.
She snickers at my faux pas. Embarrassed, I down my champagne in one gulp. I’m not a fan of the bubbles and wish I had something stronger to calm my nerves, but I also need to stay sober. I’m acting like a prepubescent boy on his first date. Get it together, dude.
“Can I ask you something?” She’s timid, her tone shy. Her confidence waivers a bit, and I don’t like that at all. Her confidence and boldness are attractive, and I never want to see that wane.
I drop my shields and give her my genuine smile, the one I reserve for my family. “Ask me anything, gorgeous.”
“What’s the story with the Swedish princess?” She winces slightly, obviously embarrassed to ask the question.
I laugh so loudly that a few of the other patrons look our way. “How do you know about that?”
“Well, when you texted last night, the boys being boys took my phone and played keep away. They saw your name, someone mentioned a princess, and I was curious.”
“The boys, huh?” Who the hell are they, and why are they teasing her like ten-year-olds?
“Yeah, I cooked dinner for Zac and some of his teammates last night. I should have known to not have my phone at the dinner table. Rookie mistake.” Her confidence returns when she’s talking about the boys. She said no to me last night to be with Zac and his teammates. Interesting.
“Do you like to cook?”
“I love it. It’s relaxing, and when they ask for seconds or thirds, it’s the ultimate compliment.” She likes praise. Got it.
“What’s your favorite meal to cook?”
“Depends. I can make cooking for two more complex, really spend the time a good meal deserves. When cooking for a group, especially hockey players in season, it’s protein and pasta. Regardless, I rarely get complaints.”
“Good to know. What would you request for your last meal on earth?”
“I don’t know, maybe this place? Are you planning on killing me today, Julian?” The gleam in her eye is all sass.
My laugh is boisterous again. I can’t contain my composure with her, and I don’t care. “Not today, not tomorrow. Seriously, your favorite go-to meal?”
She looks around the room and leans in conspiratorially. “The number one combo at Chick-fil-A.”
I laugh again. She’s killing me. “Beverage of choice?”
“Oh, sweet tea, to be sure. It only took six months of living in Atlanta to fall in love with that nectar of the gods. Zac scowls when he sees it in the fridge, but he’ll get over it.” She beams at the mention of his name. Fuck.
Back to Zac. “Yeah, sweet tea is hard to find in the city, but if you behave, I’ll let you know where the spots are. Are you and Zac…”
“Are we what?” The playful way she avoids the question is charming, but the uncertainty of his involvement is intensely frustrating. I can get him traded, but I’d rather not cash in chips unnecessarily.
“Are you a thing?”
“A thing?” She sips her champagne, eyeing me. A slight tip of her lips tells me she’s enjoying this way too much.
“In a romantic relationship? Friends with benefits? Roommates? You know, a thing.” The thought of her in his bed gets my blood boiling, so I work hard to push it out of my mind.
The waiter interrupts when he brings our food. Her eyes light up, and her hands come together in a quiet clap. “Oh my gosh, this looks amazing. Thank you.” She has a roasted pear salad with salmon, and I have a grilled apple and chicken salad. I’ve had both and agree the salmon is the best. He’s earning his tip today.
“I hope you like it. Let me know if you need anything else.” He tops off her drinks and leaves after a quick appraisal of the table.
She eyes my salad, debating which one looks best. “Here.” I slide my plate to the middle of the table, offering my meal to her. I want her to always have a choice.
“Oh no, don’t do that. I don’t want to take your food.”
“Try both, and tell me which is the best. I’ll order another.” I’m enjoying watching her eat more than I should. Her face is expressive, all of her feelings right there for me to see. She takes bites of both and decides she likes the salmon with the apple. Of course she does. She likes things off the menu. Check.
We continue mixing our plates through lunch, her combining flavors to create a new and arguably better meal than the original. She’s always on the search for the perfect bite. She’s creative and adventurous. Check. Check.
As lunch winds down, getting to know Harper takes center stage. “Tell me about yourself, Harper Cartwright.” I stare at her beautiful face and she’s positively glowing. While I’m very attracted to her, I want to know the details that make her special.
“What do you want to know?”
Everything. “Let’s start with the basics. Age, birthday, favorite color. That kind of stuff.”
“You mean like my dating profile kind of thing?”
“You’re on dating sites?” The thought of her meeting random guys sets me on edge. I clench my jaw and attempt to dial back my displeasure. There’s no way Lawson would approve of her having an online profile. Dating is hard for women, but dating in New York City is absolutely brutal. I'd rather have her with Zac than on the local dating scene. My thoughts are some kind of fucked up. I need to focus.
“Not anymore.” Shit. Is it because of Zac? Always comes back to that, doesn’t it?
“Okay, but only if you reciprocate.” She tries to quirk her eyebrow at me, and I laugh.
“Deal.” She looks exactly like Lawson with that expression. Only a hell of a lot prettier.
“I feel like I’m auditioning for The Bachelor ,” she mumbles.
“Well, if you were, you’d get a rose every single time,” I confess. “They keep hounding me to do that show. Every Thanksgiving it’s a standing conversation if I’ll ever say yes.”
“Seriously? Would you consider it?” She seems genuinely curious.
“Absolutely not. I’m a one-woman kind of guy.” I get another surprised look, which morphs into disbelief. “What? You don’t believe that?”
“You seem to have a different woman on your arm every week.”
“Why Ms. Cartwright, are you stalking me?” I love teasing her. She blushes and gets flustered for a moment before she composes herself. It’s endearing. And it’s totally Harper.