3. Paul
3
Paul
P hil’s Tavern. Ugh. Why here? Of all the hole-in-the-wall janky places to get a few drinks, Harper chose Phil’s Tavern. So dark and dingy. Paul was willing to bet the place hadn’t been dusted or cleaned since the day it opened. Why was the floor sticky? Rolling his eyes, Paul scanned the shelves of booze behind the bar. Nothing but low-end swill. He doubted the owner would know an excellent whiskey if it slapped him in the face.
Such an odd place for a celebratory cocktail. Then again, maybe she wasn’t happy with the way the court case had turned out. Absentmindedly, he rotated his shoulder, fighting the stiffness from the old gunshot wound, recalling his last run-in with her client.
Of all the people in the world, Dwight “Diesel” Delaluz was the one who brought her back to Oklahoma. Funny, considering he was part of the reason she’d left. Paul would never understand women—especially Harper.
As he moved through the surprisingly busy bar, he scanned the faces for any he recognized. It was an open contract, after all. He wasn’t the only one hunting her. Now that the trial had concluded, he doubted she’d stick around much longer. The window was closing. He was actually surprised she hadn’t hopped on a plane already.
When his gaze found her, seated in a back booth with another woman, drinking from a glass filled with white wine, he noted that she’d ditched the courtroom blazer. Her sleeveless blouse allowed for the multitude of tattoos decorating her arms to be on full display. She was just as stunning now as she had been twelve years ago, sitting behind the counter at Laundry Land studying for her LSATs.
Having wedged himself between two men, he’d found a spot at the bar. While he waited for the tender’s attention, he studied her. Her straight chocolate hair with the faint amber highlights fell just past her shoulders. After running her fingers through the strands, she flicked her mane out of her dark-brown eyes.
She’d aged better than wine for damn sure. Even in the shitty lighting of the dingy bar, she captivated him now just as much as she had back in the day.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Dragging his attention away from Harper, Paul flicked his gaze to the man slinging drinks. Laying a twenty on the bar, he moistened his lips. “See that brunette in the booth back there?”
The bartender’s gaze followed where Paul gestured. “Yeah. The out-of-town lawyer.”
Paul smirked. This young guy hadn’t a clue just how local she was. It wasn’t his fault. Maybe that’s why she chose this place. No one knew her.
“Yeah.” He hesitated, recalling something about her. “You know how to make a honeybee?”
Arching a brow, the bartender peered at him, confused.
That was a no.
“Never heard of it,” he admitted. “But if you tell me what’s in it, I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Rum, lemon juice, honey, and a splash of orange juice.” It’d been a long-ass time since Paul had even thought about this drink, let alone made one, but he surprised himself when he remembered the recipe.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Paul nodded. “Send it over to her, and another of whatever her friend is drinking too.”
“Anything for you?”
Paul shook his head. It was best to keep his mind clear, considering the circumstances.
Shifting his jaw left and right, he couldn’t take his gaze off her. Which meant, just like it had back in the day, keeping his wits about him around Harper would prove to be a monumental task.
Harper
Harper wasn’t sure how she did it, but somehow, she’d convinced Remi, her younger sister, to not only get out of the garage but to have drinks at a place that wasn’t run by the Roughneck Riders.
It may have been years since she’d been in town, but she still talked to her family. While no one came right out and said things were bad, it was obvious tensions were high. Their father was a criminal who engaged in pretty nasty activities. Turf wars were bound to happen, especially with Dwight around.
His incident was inevitable. Pressure that high was bound to explode. Therefore, being connected to the Roughneck Riders right now was dangerous as all hell. Remi, being a woman, could never be a member, but her ties were strong.
Not only did she work at a club-owned repair and body shop, but she was the daughter of the president. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a patch. A target was on her back, so yeah, she stuck to the safe spaces where she had protection.
Unfortunately, those places weren’t safe for Harper. Of course, none of the bikers would physically hurt her, but the optics of an ADA hanging out with criminals were terrible. She couldn’t do it. They had to go somewhere neutral. Thankfully, Remi understood her predicament. Instead of celebrating at home or in a hotel room, they went out to a place where they were both relatively safe.
Swirling her glass of pinot grigio in the dark booth, across from her sister, Harper’s guilt grew. It wasn’t a good idea for Remi to be out in the open like this. Yet she did it for Harper anyway.
As her sister regaled her with another story about the crazy antics that went on in the clubhouse, Harper forced a smile. That’s where they should’ve gone. That place had the protection of Fort Knox. No one got in or out without the club knowing.
But Harper couldn’t go there. It was bad enough that she took a sabbatical to be Dwight’s defense lawyer. If it got out that she hung out with a bunch of outlaws, her career as a prosecutor would be ruined. It wouldn’t matter that she was states away. Her reputation would be questionable at best.
The network of organized crime in the United States was vast, but word got around superfast. She could never hide her lineage. Even though she didn’t have his last name, anyone with any sort of connection knew who she was and where she came from. It was a huge hurdle when she applied to be a prosecutor.
It didn’t matter that she left Oklahoma behind when she started school in North Carolina. Her father was still her father, so there was the appearance of impropriety. She had to do everything in her power to prove it wrong.
Taking up Dwight’s case would definitely get her some sideways glances, but her father practically begged her. Which was something he wasn’t prone to doing. He preferred to get his way by force. Usually, just the fear of what he could do was enough to persuade anyone.
Harper wasn’t just anyone, though. She was his daughter. Dad had to pull out the big guns. He was nice .
She tilted her glass up, the last drops of wine filling her mouth, and internally rolled her eyes at herself. She was such a softy. She’d allowed her dad to guilt her into taking this case and get her back to Oklahoma after she’d sworn she wouldn’t return.
There was nothing for her here. She left it behind for a reason. It sucked that it meant leaving her family, but it was best for her.
“Ladies.” One of the few servers at Phil’s Tavern interrupted her thoughts and Remi’s story and drew their attention. “A very intriguing gentleman has sent over your next round.”
Harper furrowed her brow when the martini glass filled with a yellow mixed drink landed in front of her. “What is this?”
Remi snickered as she reached for the light beer in front of her. “At least he got mine right.”
“A honeybee,” the server answered.
Stunned, Harper’s eyes widened.
“Yeah. I’ve never heard of it either.” The server shrugged. “But he told the bartender what was in it. I’m not gonna lie. There was some left in the shaker after he made it and I tasted it. Seriously, it is delicious.”
Confused, Harper examined the drink for a few more seconds and then turned. Looking past the bar worker, she scanned the patrons.
“Didn’t we used to drink those back in the day?” Remi asked. “When one guy was banging a lady who had bees. There was so much honey.”
Still searching, Harper nodded briefly. “Yeah. I haven’t had one in ages.” It had to have been ten, maybe even eleven years ago. No one knew how to make them. They were such an obscure drink. Bars rarely had honey.
“Yeah, I’m shocked we even had the ingredients. I guess having honey barbeque wings on the menu did the trick,” the server commented. “Let me just clear these empties. Speaking of wings, do you ladies want anything from the kitchen?”
“Those wings sound fabulous. Harper, you wanna split them?” Remi asked.
Harper’s jaw nearly hit the floor when she locked eyes with his hypnotic glacial blues.
How had she not noticed him before? Wearing a charcoal suit and crisp white shirt, he stuck out like a sore thumb among all the jeans and raggedy T-shirts. Granted, he’d kept his collar open and hadn’t worn a tie, but Paul definitely wasn’t a regular at Phil’s Tavern. Tall, lean, with short pale-blond hair, he hadn’t changed one iota since she’d last seen him. How was that possible?
What the hell was he doing here?
“Harper?” Remi snapped her fingers.
Swallowing down her shock, Harper tore her eyes off the most beautiful man in a suit she’d ever seen and faced Remi. “Yeah?”
The server and her sister stared at her expectantly.
She’d missed something. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Do you want wings?” Remi asked with a touch of annoyance.
“We have buffalo, honey barbeque, and lemon garlic,” the server offered.
Nothing made sense. Harper couldn’t pay attention. His fiery gaze bore into her soul. She didn’t even have to look in his direction to know he continued to stare at her.
Shifting in her seat, she cleared her throat, fighting back the memories. Nervously, she fidgeted with the chunky gold chain bracelet around her wrist.
“Yeah, sure. A basket of each.” She forced a smile. “We’re celebrating, after all.”
Remi peered at her as though she’d just suggested they eat stewed cats. “Three dozen wings is a lot of chicken.”
“I’ll do a sampler platter,” the server suggested.
Nodding, Harper took a sip of the most divine beverage. Sweet and tangy. It was like drinking summer. She rolled it around in her mouth, her taste buds exploding as the sharp flavors delighted her tongue. Once she swallowed, she nodded again. “Sounds great.”
“What is wrong with you?” Remi asked after the bar worker left their table.
“Good evening, Harper.” His deep baritone was smooth as silk. It sent chills through her body despite the temperature of the tavern increasing by twenty degrees.
Paul Ricci, in all his glory, was in her presence again. Last time they’d been together, it was explosive. Hopefully, she’d be able to control herself this time, but she doubted it.