Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
JULIAN
I take a moment to check my messages. Nothing major work wise. It’s not like I’m a doctor saving lives or anything. Most things can wait a day or two. Priscilla messaged back that she did a quick read of my first chapter and likes it. That’s promising. Harper is promising.
I see Noodle before I see her. He’s pulling on his leash as he comes around the corner, Harper following behind, laughing at his antics. He gets to me, stops, sniffs my shoes, and plops down, his burst of energy exerted.
“Hey, fella. I understand. She takes my breath away too.” I rub his head and look up at her, smiling down at me, clearly amused. “Is he going to make it to the park?”
“He’s fine. He got the zoomies upstairs. I’ll give him a minute to recover.” I reach out and take the leash. If restraining a six-pound dog is how I can help, I want to show her I’m here for her.
I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the door. The foot traffic outside her building isn’t as bad as this afternoon, so we’re safe, but just in case, I take her hand. Her fingers wrap around mine and I’m encouraged by the slight gesture.
Noodle takes off to the left, and I assume he knows the way, so I let him take the lead. I worry he’ll get trampled, but he’s staying directly in front of us. He’s different from Alexander’s English Bulldog puppy, Hank, who is larger than Noodle but not as street savvy. Noodle is a New York City dog, tough, scrappy, and apparently street smart.
It’s the golden hour, the sun dipping down below the horizon. The lighting illuminates Harper’s aura, and she’s stunning. We walk in silence until we reach the small park, her focusing on Noodle, me focusing on her.
Dog-walking neighbors, playing kids, and parents on benches fill this busy park. I’m relieved it seems safe at this time of day.
“You walk here every evening?”
“I do. We go for longer walks in the morning, but our evening walks stay local.”
“How did you get into dog walking?”
She looks at me and smiles knowingly. Whoops. My line of questioning isn’t as subtle as I thought.
“Noodle came with the apartment.” Yep. Still not answering my question, and she knows it.
“What else keeps you busy besides cooking for the Havoc and caring for Noodle?” I want to know everything about her.
“I’m taking a class at NYU. I finished my master’s this spring, so this is like a fall internship. The timing was right, with Lawson’s move and all.” That explains running into her on campus. It still doesn’t explain her relationship with Zac and that’s where I focus my energy.
“Is New York where you want to be?”
“Is it where you want to be?” I’ve noticed she loves to answer questions with questions. I’m well-versed in that tactic and wonder if I’ve met my match.
“It’s where my company is, so it’s where I am. I’m lucky I travel and try to move around to avoid the New York winters. I don’t mind the city, but I prefer to be closer to friends and family.” I’ve lived here for the better part of the last eight years. I’m a Southern boy in a Northern world. I enjoy New York, but it’s a necessity, and I live by the motto that I’ll bloom where I’m planted.
“I can see that about you.” She thinks she’s figured me out. I doubt she’s done that in a day, because I’ve barely scratched the surface when it comes to her.
“How did you get into sports management?”
“You could google me to get that.”
“Yeah, but I want more than the Wikipedia page. Tell me something I couldn’t find on the internet.” She’s challenging me to trust her. To go deeper. If I want her to keep this going, I have to do this. Without an NDA. I take a deep breath and set my resolve. She’s worth the risk.
“I was a baseball player in college at Michigan. Pretty decent stats. I blew out my elbow, and after a lengthy recovery, I knew my chances of going pro were shot. If I couldn’t play at the highest level, what was the point of playing? My mom had died, and I was at home recovering. I was lost. I fell into a pretty deep depression. It was a dark time for me, considering I’m generally an optimistic guy. Ashleigh and her romance books helped.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about your smutty book club.” She giggles and blushes and playfully bumps into me with her shoulder. Several of her favorite authors are steamy, and I wonder if she likes to do more than read about hot, steamy sex.
“It’s not smutty. Are you shaming fellow readers?”
“Oh, not at all. I find it interesting you’re into spicy romance novels.”
I chuckle at her sass. “I tell men if they want to understand women, read romance novels. Women write most of them, and it’s practically an instruction manual to their wants and desires. Tell me I’m wrong.” My response is a challenge. I need to know if her favorite books are what she wants. I’m more than willing to read up on her preferences.
“You’re not wrong. But I love that romance novels are as unique as women. There’s something for everyone.”
“That’s true.”
Her pursed lips signal she has more questions. “So, who was your first client?” I admire her tenacity. She isn’t giving up easily.
With a slight nod, I continue the story. “When I went back to school, Chance was about to get drafted and was getting courted by several agents. He asked me to rep him because he wanted someone he could trust and would have his best interest at heart. Truth is, he knew I needed a purpose after so much loss. My mom. Baseball. I wasn’t in a great place. He saved me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I’ll never be able to repay my best friend. He pulled me back from a dark place. I shudder at the memory of those days. I owe him everything.
“So I studied how to be an agent. Took more finance and law classes than I cared for, but if my best friend trusted me with his career, then I was going to be the best damn agent he deserved. A few of my teammates also signed on with me. And it started there. Friends trusted me, put their faith in me, and I took care of them. I was a twenty-one-year-old playing in a world of billionaires and savvy lawyers. Luckily, I knew a billionaire team owner and his friends, and they gave me decent advice.” I’m proud I created my agency on my own, but my ego isn’t that big to not recognize my mentors for their advice and guidance.
“My dad was skeptical and wanted me to work with him as part of the Reapers organization, but I needed a job without the traditional confines. I wanted to be self-made and do it on my own. It was important to me, as I figured out who Julian Decker was supposed to be without baseball. I minimized my commission in the beginning, wanting my friends to fully enjoy the fruits of their labors and to express my gratitude for their trust. Their success was my reward. I owe everything to those guys. Eventually, my business grew, I started repping non-friends, and well, it took off. Because when I do something, I don’t do it half-assed. I’m all in.” Does she hear what I’m trying to say? With her, I’m coming at her full force.
“Wow. That’s impressive. I didn’t peg you as a type-A driven businessman, but clearly, I was wrong.”
“What gave you the impression I’m not driven?”
She bites her bottom lip, hesitant to share her thoughts. We stop our walk at the park entrance. I turn to give her my full attention and encourage her to say what’s on her mind.
“You seem, well, never mind.” She shakes her head, trying to change the direction of this conversation. Oh no. She doesn’t get off that easily. I want her assessment of me.
“What do I seem, gorgeous?”
The wind blows her hair across her face, and I reach up to tuck it behind her ear. If I was writing a scene in a romance novel, here is where I would kiss her. My lips are desperate to taste her, devour her. I stop myself from leaning in to take that kiss, the scent of Harper’s perfume filling my senses. She’s not ready for that. Besides, life is not a romance novel, and rarely that simple.
Noodle walks around us, wrapping our legs up in his leash. See? Even Noodle is getting into the act. I want to know what’s on her mind. What she thinks. Why she thinks that way. And yeah, tasting those lips. But her mind first.
“You’re not who you portray to the world. There’s more to you. And I want to know why you keep the real Julian Decker hidden.” She lowers her head at her admission.
I gently put my finger under her chin, tilting her face until our eyes meet. “You want something else not on the internet?” She nods her head. I’ll share a safe and probably pretty obvious fact. “I have trust issues. There are people out there who manipulate the narrative, are selfish, and just fucking mean. Internet trolls are the worst. I spend half my time bailing out clients, not because they did anything wrong, but because the media likes to spin a story. I intentionally keep my public image shallow and clean. They haven’t earned the right to know me. You want more? You earn it.”
“How do I earn it?” She bites her lip, the corner of her mouth in a slight upturn, as her eyes search mine. I think of several ways she can earn it, but that’s not Harper’s style.
“You already have, so ask me anything. I’ll do my best to answer.”
Her eyes glimmer with excitement. “So I heard something about a Swedish princess,” she says conspiratorially. Add persistent and cute as hell to the list of her adorable qualities. I untwist us, step out of Noodles’ leash knot, and take her hand.
“You going to tell me about Burns?” I counter.
She laughs and swings our clasped hands on the short walk to her place. Before I’m ready, we’re back at her building. This game we’re playing is awkward. I want to take her upstairs and kiss her until she forgets everything else. But she hasn’t invited me, and I doubt she will. At least not tonight. Harper isn’t falling at my feet, and it’s sexy as hell.
She gives me a hug that doesn’t last long enough and stretches on her tiptoes to give me a peck on the cheek. As I watch her walk away, I have an undeniable desire to see her again. Soon. I’m enraptured and intrigued. Until we meet again, gorgeous.