Chapter 20 #2
He lifts the silver lid to reveal a colorful bruschetta crowned with tomato and burrata.
“As much as I admire your cooking skills, I have to say this looks too good to have been made by you.”
“It wasn’t,” he laughs. “I called in a few favors.”
The appetizer is divine, and our conversation flows as easily as the wine—bouncing off each other like ping-pong balls, both of us staying clear from anything too serious. And although we’re successful at that, we know something is simmering beneath the surface.
He serves the main dish—filet mignon with garlic butter and roasted vegetables—and my stomach grumbles as if I haven’t just inhaled almost a quarter loaf of bread. It looks straight out of a cookbook.
“Not sure how you pulled this off, but damn, Joshua Harrison, you know how to woo a girl.”
“Just wait until dessert.” He winks. “Don’t think I forgot it’s your favorite part of the meal.”
It is. Of course he remembers. The same way he’s learned about my obsession with breakfast pastries and romantic comedies, I’ve learned about him—how he likes his eggs just shy of done and his coffee borderline bitter. Most importantly, I’ve learned that he always puts everyone first.
A blessing in disguise for my chaos-drenched life.
We don’t talk about the tension, but it’s there. Present in every grace of our fingers, or how we hold eye contact for a second too long.
“I didn’t realize Tony was married,” I say between bites of steak, recalling his earlier comment.
“Ah, yes. Laura. She won’t like knowing she has competition,” he says with a smirk.
I roll my eyes like I’m auditioning for a drama play. “No ring, not taken,” I declare, flashing my bare hand like it’s proof of purchase.
He stands, gathers our spotless plates, and sets them aside. Then he leans in, stopping only when he’s inches away. The kind of close that dares you to flinch.
I don’t. I brave the tension, holding his gaze.
“You’re not taken, then?” he whispers.
I shrug. Casual, as if my skin wasn’t burning up just from having him this close, challenging me.
“Guess not,” I answer lazily. “At least not officially. But I can think of other ways of claiming someone… and they don’t involve a ring.”
He hums, intrigued. I give him props for staying in character.
Serious Harrison is sexy as hell.
I twirl a strand of hair like I’m weighing my options.
“Dessert,” I say, grinning. “That’s a good place to start.”
“So… all I have to do to show my everlasting, out-of-this-world love is feed you sugar?”
He says it so slowly, so deliberately, that I wonder if he’s being for real. My breath catches in my throat, and I can only nod and wait. Whatever he gives me, I’ll take.
“Great.” He pulls like it’s no big deal. “I’ve got that covered.”
We’re moving fast—from surface-level flirting to full-on emotional intimacy with a side of chocolate. I didn’t want to talk about it yet, especially now that it’s mixed with the incompatibility of our lives, but I can’t help it. I’m self-sabotaging.
He returns with two delicacies in hand: a molten lava cake and a crème br?lée. Because of course he does.
“You’ve officially won me over,” I say. Chocolate is my kryptonite. He knows that.
“Good.” I’m rewarded with the softest brush of his lips against mine.
He’s looking at me so tenderly, it makes me want to address the giant elephant in the room.
My mind is trying to catch up to the fact that the man I love does not go hand in hand with my professional future.
And as much as any other time I’d be freaking out, the way he’s looking at me—without a single worry sketched in his features—is enough to short-circuit the panic.
He takes the crème br?lée, leaving all the dark sweetness to me. Another Hallmark movie move on his part. I devour my dessert like a kid who’s convinced it might be taken away at any moment.
Across from me, the complete opposite. Harrison picks at his slowly. He’s mostly watching me, but his stare is not one to judge. It’s something else.
“Do you want some?” I ask, shocked to find I still have manners. He shakes his head. “What are you thinking?”
He exhales, and a relaxed smile takes over his face. “You look so beautiful tonight. It’s like every time I see you, it just keeps getting better.”
I blush so hard I could power a small village. I try to hide behind my hands while pretending to fix my hair—more ladylike than diving under the table.
“Don’t.”
His hand comes up to move mine away.
“Here.” He scoops a spoonful of crème br?lée and holds it out to me.
I part my lips, the caramelized sugar cracking against my tongue before the custard melts into something smooth and sinful—but not too sweet. I close my eyes and let my taste buds do the rest. I can feel him watching, waiting for me to make a sound. I stay silent.
When I gather the courage to meet his gaze again, he looks like he’s won a prize that I didn’t know we were competing for.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
My skin lights up with goosebumps. Why does that phrase do things to me?
“Are you done?” he asks.
I glance at my half-eaten chocolate cake and nod anyway. He’s more tempting than dessert.
He stands and offers his hand. “Dance with me.”
“Now?” I ask, timidly. He nods, a playful grin taking over his face. “Here?”
“We could take it to the street if you’d rather,” he teases, tugging me to my feet. “Yes. Here.”
He leads me to the center of the bar and pulls out his phone. I perch lightly on the edge of the pool table, my legs a little too wobbly to trust.
I watch him scroll for a few seconds before Make You Feel My Love by Adele starts playing through the speakers.
What an appropriate song choice for how I’m currently feeling, I think to myself.
I take the hand he’s offering, wrap my arms around his neck, and let him pull me close. His hands settle low on my back, anchoring me.
I can’t muster the strength to look up at him, so I rest my head on his chest and let him take the lead. He sways us gently from side to side like we’ve done this a thousand times.
I focus on the flicker of candlelight in the distance—anywhere but on the slow, lazy circles his thumb is tracing at my waist. Then, one of his hands slides up, fingers threading gently into my hair as he cradles the back of my head and presses a kiss to the top of it.
I sink into him.
The pull between us becomes stronger with every step until I finally have to look up.
The song ends, leaving the unspoken lyrics floating between us. I swear he’s about to say something. His eyes are full of words that he’s not ready to say aloud, and I don’t know whether I want him or not.
Another song starts, but we don’t move.
I fidget with the collar of his shirt, needing something to do with my hands. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I close my eyes and lean into his touch.
“Josh, I––” The words catch in my throat.
He’s watching, patient. Expectant. Letting me gather my thoughts.
I sigh and force a smile. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. Maybe we can keep it… under wraps? Until I figure out what to do at work.”
His brows tick up, and the corner of his mouth curves. He knows I was about to say something else—but he lets me get away with it.
“I can work with that.”
Even in heels, I still have to rise on my toes to kiss him. He bends, slides his arms under my thighs, and lifts me effortlessly. I let out a shriek, laughing against his mouth.
“I like this position,” he says, kissing the top of my chest.
I pull on his hair, forcing his face to look up. “What a pervert.”
He lets me down slowly, his palms tracing every curve. “Only with you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I kiss him again. Just a brush this time.
“I mean it,” I tell him. “Tonight’s been truly special. Thank you.”
“Except for the dancing,” he teases. “I should’ve warned you so you could practice.”
I gasp. “Says the one who kept stepping on my feet!”
He rolls his eyes and brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly.
And just like that, we are effortlessly back to our witty selves. Flirty, and tangled in feelings that are getting stronger and scarier as seconds pass.
Emma’s hiding in a stall at work, headphones in, whispering back to me. Her knees are pulled up to her chin, head resting on them. Meanwhile, my phone is propped against the bathroom mirror as I get ready for bed—after what’s possibly been the best night of my life.
“I mean—Adele,” she says. “Bold move, Harrison. Clear telltale sign. Second best song to show someone you love them. First would’ve been—”
“Can’t Help Falling In Love,” we both say in sync.
“Right. And with the whole promotion situation, I don’t want to force it.” I say. “Telling him that I love him just because I feel the pressure from going back home feels wrong. I want it to be natural. I’m always trying to stay a step ahead, but now I can’t. I have to see where it goes.”
“Sounding pretty mature there, Julia Thomas,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“But at the same time, if anything gets out about us…” I trail off and she give me a classic Emma disapproval look. “One headline out with the wrong press, and I’m out of the running for the promotion I’ve come here for.”
“If what you get from London is Joshua Harrison instead of a better job, I think that’s still a win for you.”
Unless he’s just another passing man in my life. Then I’m left with a broken heart and my career in pieces. I don’t tell her that, though.
“Well, what about you?” I'm ready to change the subject. “He’s been the perfect distraction to talk about my love life instead of yours.”
“That’s because I have a plan.”
“Please share,” I prompt.
“Now that we have an in with all the hot actors in Hollywood, I’m going to use Harrison as a wingman to find my perfect match.” She taps her fingers together like a cartoon villain. “I’m hoping this happens before your wedding, but if I have to wait until then, that’s okay too.”
I burst out laughing. The sounds come out before I can control it. Emma’s scrunched-up face only makes it worse, and soon I’m breathless, tears in my eyes, and a grin stretched so wide it hurts.
“Right, jobless but wed,” I manage between giggles, wiping my face. “Listen, Matt Hunt was pretty good-looking in real life too.”
“Eh. He’s too much of a playboy for me,” she says, waving it off. “I crossed paths with him once at an after-party. He had a girl on each arm and was wearing way too much cologne. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enough of a queen to change his ways—but it’s a hassle.”
It’s that wild confidence that radiates off her that I love so much. I’m grateful every day to receive a share of it.