Zander
thirty
“Were your ears burning?” Harlowe’s greeting when she answers my call is so unexpected it makes me chuckle softly.
The din of a crowd can be heard over the line, and I instantly wonder where she is, and who she’s out with.
Is she on a date? No, she wouldn’t have answered my call so easily. She could be with friends.
“Why? Are you entertaining your friends with stories about my cock?” I ask, fishing for the information I crave and leaning back in the smooth leather seat of the Karma where I decided to call her before leaving the tower.
I enjoy the rasp of her voice, and, if I’m being honest, the idea that she’s talking about me.
I was planning to ask if she’s free tonight, but that can wait if I’ve been on her mind. I want to know the details.
“Not exactly,” she says, her voice lowering. “But if you want me to kiss and tell, I can share that you liked having a finger up your ass when I sucked you off.”
I sit up straighter. “That is patently false information, and you know it,” I say, a prickle of unease going through me at the thought of her sharing something like that with the wrong person.
A nasty gossip site like the Atlanta Haute List would share even the most untrue of accusations about me just because they enjoy highlighting my family for some reason.
“I’m kidding, Zander, relax. I wasn’t telling anyone about the weird things you like in the bedroom. And who knows what could have changed in the last five years? Maybe you do like your ass played with now. I won’t judge you for it.”
I hear the clink of a glass and wonder if she’s drinking, and that’s why she’s in this rare playful mood that reminds me so much of the woman I pursued with a passion just to turn away when I was done with her.
But that’s the thing I’ve come to realize.
I was never done with Harlowe Sorenson, and I don’t think I ever will be.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Enjoying a ladies’ night out. We’re somewhere downtown.
Brick and Barley, I think? Something pretentious and overpriced for the craft cocktails and food we ordered.
We’re celebrating my cookbook being a bestseller and getting a cooking show option.
But hey, the drinks are strong and the food is decent.
” I hear an unintelligible sound from Harlowe’s end of the conversation.
“And the company is amazing. That’s Paloma, by the way.
She’s the company and she wants you to know she’s awesome. ”
I hear laughter, and I wonder how long they’ve been at this. I tap the restaurant name into my phone to see where it’s located. Not far from the tower. I type out a quick text to Javi and return my attention to Harlowe. “Want even better company?”
“Sure, why the hell not? The more the merrier,” she says, sounding as relaxed as I've heard her since she crashed back into my life. Thank fuck for whatever cocktails she’s been enjoying to have loosened her up this much.
I hear a protest over the line and bet Paloma isn’t as on board with having her ladies’ night crashed.
But that’s what Javi’s for. He’ll wingman for me and not think twice about it.
I saw the way he looked at Paloma when he rear-ended Harlowe last month.
Was it just last month? It feels like a lifetime ago already.
It won't be a hardship for him to talk to Harlowe’s pretty yet prickly friend, who is likely not a fan of mine if she’s been around for a while.
I wouldn’t like me either, if I were in her position.
“I’ll be there in ten. Enjoy another cocktail on me. I want to treat you ladies for your celebration.”
“Don’t mind if we do. We’re getting the bibimbap bowl and the flank steak sliders if you’re paying. Hear that, Paloma, Zander has our tab. Get whatever you want.” Harlowe pauses, listening to Paloma. “She says she doesn’t mind you joining us. She’s ordering dessert, too.”
I laugh. “Fine, just leave room on the table for my drink when I get there.”
The drive doesn't take long, and I hand my car off to the valet as I scan the sky full of dark clouds threatening rain, and maybe even a thunderstorm. Javi meets me at the door to the restaurant and sends me a questioning look. Like me, he’s removed his tie, but coming from work, we’re still in our jackets and slacks.
Not a bad look for this restaurant, which is a pretentious place known for strong drinks and an Asian fusion menu, according to the web search I did while on the phone with Harlowe.
“Feeling like overpriced drinks and small portions? This isn’t usually your type of place. I happen to loathe it.” Javi looks from me to the name of the restaurant printed on a grain sack outside the entrance.
“You might not love the place, but you’ll definitely like the company,” I promise.
“Which of your Instagram groupies are we meeting tonight?” he asks, sounding intrigued.
“Not a groupie, and you’ve met them, kind of.”
Javi looks at me curiously, but doesn't hazard a guess.
I scan the restaurant when we enter, ignoring the line of people waiting for tables. I spot Harlowe across the restaurant like my eyes are drawn to her and motion with my chin at Javi to follow.
“Oh,” he says in understanding when he catches the direction of my gaze. “Yeah, this won’t be bad at all.”
I slide into the empty seat next to Harlowe, resting my arm on the back of her chair and enjoying the surprised smile she gives me in response to our arrival.
She looks incredible. She’s wearing a strappy tank top that shows off her shoulders and most of her upper back, a flirty ruffle down the center that draws my eyes to her cleavage, sending visceral memories of what her nipples look and taste like sling-shotting around my brain.
She has a plumeria flower tucked behind her ear closest to me, the scent intoxicating and sending me straight back to when I was in paradise with her.
I think of when plumerias were decorating her body last and bite back a groan of longing that’s so fierce, I have to turn my head and clear my throat before I can return my attention to Harlowe.
“Hello, bestseller and future cooking show host. Congratulations,” I say, trailing my fingers along the exposed skin of her back. She shivers in response and leans into my touch. She’s definitely a few drinks in.
“Thanks,” she says, her cheeks rosy. “This is Paloma,” she says, gesturing to her friend across the table. “I see you brought the bad driver with you. Paloma, this is Javier. And you know of Zander, but you get to officially meet him now.” Harlowe finishes the introductions.
“My driving record would indicate otherwise, and again, I’m so sorry for the accident. I hope everything is back in order now,” Javi says smoothly, settling into the open chair next to Paloma, who eyes him warily.
“It’s true, he’s usually a better driver than that, but I-85 gets the best of us all at some point. I hope you liked the rental.”
I’ve made sure all of her repairs were done to my exacting standards and she didn’t have to pay for any of it. I tear my attention from Harlowe and nod at her friend and the spread on the table.
“Did you order everything on the menu? I’m serious about it being my treat. You deserve it.” I again look at Harlowe when I finish.
“We ordered plenty, don’t you worry, Daddy Warbucks,” Paloma says with humor.
Javi laughs and turns to her. “That’s a new one. What else do you call him?”
Paloma grins, but it looks mean. “Sperm donor. Asshole. Conceited jerk. Hit it and quit it. Johnny Bravo.”
“I understand all but the last one,” Javi says, clearly not interested in having my back in this situation. “Care to elaborate?”
“He’s a big, dumb, caricature of a narcissistic womanizer who is obsessed with himself and can’t make a relationship work out.” She crosses her arms and stares at me as she explains.
“Harsh, much?” It’s to be expected, though.
“Feel better after getting that off your chest?” I ask, holding back the anger that would like to fire off my own insults.
“And you’re the overprotective friend who has Harlowe’s best interests in mind.
” I hold out a hand when I see her bristle and prepare to retort. “I more than deserve it.”
At my acceptance, her prepared vitriol dies before she even gets started, and she looks confused. Javi turns to her then, and smiles his disarming, blinding white grin that promises fun.
“I have plenty of stories I could tell you that would more than reinforce your ideas of him.” As he captures Paloma’s attention like the wingman I knew he’d be, I turn my own to Harlowe.
“Congratulations, Lowe,” I say again. My voice is so quiet it’s nearly drowned out by the noise in the restaurant, but she leans closer to me to hear better. “I’m so proud of you. I’m glad you’re celebrating this victory.”
She smiles and looks up at me with her sweet brown eyes all liquid soft. “Thank you.”
I lazily drag my fingertips along her spine and watch the reaction it causes.
Goosebumps rise on her skin, and her nipples grow hard against the black silk of her top, making me more than aware that she’s not wearing a bra.
I can look right down the front of her shirt from my vantage point and it does nothing to stem the desire for her that is coursing through me.
I fight back a groan and look away from her incredible tits.
“You look beautiful.” I bring my hand up to cup her cheek and run my fingertips along the flower at her ear. “This brings back some very good memories.”
She melts into my hand, sighing as I trace my thumb along her skin, her eyes closing. “It made me think of you, too.”
“Where’s Hendricks tonight?” I don’t know if it’s the right question to ask, but I want to know. “I miss him. He’s a really cute kid.”
Harlowe’s eyes flutter open and she stares at me a moment before smiling softly. “He’s with my mom for the night.”