Chapter 12
What if you knock my socks off?
Kazimir
Harley drops her wine glass on the kitchen table and meets my gaze. “Thank you for such a delicious meal.”
“It’s my pleasure. My chefs and sous-chefs toughed it out in front of flames to cook it to perfection.”
“This is such a treat. With my financial woes dining out wasn’t even a possibility. I lived off ramen noodles or rice and beans.”
That explains why she lost her curves.
I hate to hear how much she had to struggle because the husband and wife she teamed up with ended up defrauding her.
I won’t rest until I track those fuckers down.
“Now that you know the owner, just say the word. I have a table in the back corner reserved for me that can accommodate friends at a moment’s notice.”
“Noted.” She nods. “I might have to take you up on that offer, because this is the best grilled chicken I’ve ever had in my life.
The smoky and charred taste is out of this world.
Don’t get me started on the charred carrots drizzled with honey or Number 22’s house bread and the marinated mixed olives we had for starters. ”
“Glad to hear we have a new fan.”
“Definitely.” Her eyes roam around the kitchen.
“For someone who lived in a dilapidated and stinky basement micro apartment only a few hours ago, your oasis on a quiet street in Brooklyn Heights is idyllic—” She shakes her head.
“Wow. From a slum in Jamaica, Queens to an historical renovated three-level carriage house located in Grace Court Alley in one day. Talk about moving up in the world.”
“Nothing wrong with taking the express train.”
She smiles. “I’m in awe the entire back wall made of floor-to-ceiling windows opens up and leads to a sprawling terrace.” She points to it. “We get to enjoy dinner under the stars in early May.”
I swing my gaze to the windows. “I take full advantage of it until it gets too cold.”
“I guess that’s when you turn on the sunken fire pit wrapped in gunmetal gray steel and glass that drops down from the backyard—it’s such a wicked feature.”
I return my attention to her. “It allows sunlight to pour in from the massive skylight to the lower level. Other than the three windows at the top of the tall garage door, there are no windows in that space, for privacy reasons.”
“I had one small window in the dungeon I no longer live in, so I totally understand your desire not to feel like you’re trapped in a tomb.”
“Speaking of which, did your landlord get back to you?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet.”
“You need to be relentless. You want to break out of your lease without penalty.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I could bulldozer my way into getting her landlord’s attention, but given the violation of her privacy, this complaint needs to come from a woman.
“Did you buy the carriage house before you were married?” She changes the subject.
“I did. During our three-month marriage, it was in full renovation, which is why I moved in with Devlyn.” I wish I had known when I said ‘I do’ that her grown ass son would camp at his mother’s house, despite the fact he had his own penthouse.
“And you didn’t have to sell it to divide the profits?”
“No. Marrying Devlyn was a big mistake, but I wasn’t stupid enough to do it without a prenup.”
She nods. “I guess it’s the same for your cottage in the Hamptons.”
“Correct, but I put that property up for sale the minute the divorce was final. Lucky for me, it sold in no time.”
She frowns. “It was such a majestic cottage.”
“A majestic cottage tainted by betrayal.”
She grimaces. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to hold on to it.”
I reach for the bottle of chardonnay. “More wine?”
“I’m good.”
“Dessert?”
She sits a little straighter in her chair. “What’s for dessert?”
“Bread pudding made with brioche served with bourbon and caramel sauce and a side of vanilla ice cream from Creamy Heaven.”
“Yum.” She licks her luscious lips, and my eyes drop to them.
Fuck, I want to own those.
“What you suggested is the kind of decadent dessert that could have me agreeing to anything.”
“Anything?” I study her. “Even agreeing to accept my job offer?”
She narrows her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me with sweets?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Listen, Harley, we can pretend you didn’t give me an answer yet, or we tackle it head on.”
She uncrosses her legs. “I want to accept, but…”
“But, what?”
She lifts her eyes to the sky. “What if I disappoint you?”
“What if you knock my socks off?”
“Why is it that you have so much faith in me?”
I shrug. “Call it intuition.”
“What if your intuition is broken?”
Fair point. I have a history of making the worst life decisions when I suffer the kind of injury that causes me to be benched for the rest of the hockey season.
My last one was marrying Devlyn. My judgment isn’t clouded right now.
I’ve made peace with the fact that my old career is behind me.
“I see something in you, Harley. I have since the first day I met you.”
A heavy silence hangs between us.
She blows out a breath. “All right, I’m ready for dessert now.”
I frown.
She’s dismissing me?
“If becoming your in-house social media manager slash public relations liaison is the only way I’ll be able to have that tempting dessert I can’t live one more second without tasting, so be it.”
“You’re accepting the job?”
She worries her lower lip. “Yes.”