Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Delaney
Harrison parks his car on the brick-paved road in front of a quaint café with a canvas awning and a few wrought iron tables set up outside.
It’s right across from the town square—a lovely plot of green space scattered with enormous sycamore trees, their peeling bark revealing the white surface underneath and their crowns providing shade in the late June heat.
I breathe a sigh of relief that the drive was nowhere near as awkward as I was afraid it was going to be.
Instead, Harrison spent the entire fifteen minutes we were in the vehicle explaining that we were dropping off a variance request, what it is, and what the process entails—in painstaking detail.
My lap vibrates, and I realize it’s my phone buzzing from inside my purse.
I reach inside and pull out the phone, swiping to wake it up.
I don’t really have friends—I haven’t had time in these last few years.
So, anytime the phone rings or a text message comes through, I worry it will be about Mom. It’s not this time. It’s a text.
Phyllis
Hi, Delaney. Have you ever bartended?
Uh, no. Why?
Phyllis
Feel like trying? Felicity is sick and won’t be able to bartend on Saturday. You feel like giving it a shot instead of washing dishes?
I hesitate since I’ve never bartended before and don’t want to mess it up.
Phyllis
It pays five dollars more an hour…
Sure, I’ll give it a try.
I could use the extra money.
Phyllis
Great, be there fifteen minutes early so Garrett can show you the ropes.
I respond with a thumbs-up emoji, then jump when my car door opens. I turn to find Harrison there, holding it ajar with one hand while extending the other toward me.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to… I was answering a text and got distracted. You didn’t have to open my door. I wasn’t expecting you to do it.”
I make the mistake of glancing at Harrison, and his jaw is tight, his eyes smoldering.
“Don’t be absurd. When I drive you somewhere, I’ll be opening your door.”
I ignore his extended hand and rise from the car, straighten my skirt—one that’s just short enough I wouldn’t have worn it had I known I’d be sitting in a car with Harrison—and step aside.
Harrison says nothing else, closes the door, and guides me to the café entrance. As soon as we enter, the delicious aroma of cooked onions and a tantalizing combination of spices hits my nostrils.
I’m pretty sure a soft moan escapes me. It’s confirmed when Harrison chuckles. The sound warms me inside. I like hearing him make happy sounds instead of the grumpy grunts I’ve been hearing from him at the office. It reminds me of who he was that night.
“It’s their French onion soup. It’s the absolute best.”
“It smells fabulous.”
There’s a cute sign with chalk writing that tells us to seat ourselves, and I follow Harrison to a table big enough for six people. I lift an eyebrow at him.
“Are you expecting company, or are you planning on ordering so much that we’ll need the space?”
A smile—just a hint of one, but it still counts—forms around his mouth. He places a few files and a legal pad, which I didn’t realize he was carrying, on the table.
“Working lunch, remember?” He pulls out a chair for me, and I sit, then he takes a seat across from me. “I figured we could use the extra space to spread out if needed.”
I nod. Right. This is a business lunch. Nothing else.
Which is good because he’s my boss. I need to remember that because I’m both embarrassed and annoyed that I’ve caught myself staring at him in the office, when he doesn’t know I’m looking.
I’ve scolded myself for admiring his square jaw, especially when he’s skipped shaving for a day.
I hate that when he stands within a few feet of my desk, talking to one of his brothers, I can home in on which smell is his.
Believe me, the four Aron brothers I’ve met are all something to look at and smell terrific when they’re nearby.
I know that I’m probably a creep, but I can pick which one is Harrison’s scent in seconds.
Hell, I practically salivate when I smell it.
I remember and affiliate it with his body covering mine, wrapped around me that night.
Yep, that’s where the salivation comes from.
That night. The one we spent together. Those people were different people.
I know I was, anyhow. For one night, I pretended my life was simpler.
I could drown my guilt and sadness over failing Mom in good whiskey and Harrison Aron.
Him? I don’t even know if the man from that night is the real Harrison or if this gruff version I’ve come to know since I started working for them is.
I’ve thought about it over the last few weeks more than I’d like to admit, and I can’t reconcile the two personas.
“Delaney? You okay over there?”
I blink and peer across the table at Harrison. He’s holding a menu out to me.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Was just thinking about… Um, about some things I need to take care of later.”
Harrison says nothing, but holds my gaze for several seconds, then nods, opens his menu, and focuses on that. I do the same.
I work to hide my distress when I see the prices on the menu. The French onion soup smells so good, and I’d love some, but it’s eight dollars a bowl. It does come in a bread bowl, though, so maybe I could manage that and just eat a cheap dinner.
I take a moment and look over at the sandwiches. Ten bucks for a grilled cheese. A side salad costs six dollars. That’s what I’ll get. It’ll seem normal. Lots of people eat salad for lunch.
When the server approaches, after I’ve placed my menu on the table, she looks at me and smiles.
“Ladies first.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m not very hungry, though. I’ll have a side salad with honey mustard dressing, if you have it. And I’ll have a water, please.”
“You sure, sweetheart? That salad’s tiny, and it looks like we gotta get a little meat on those bones.” Her words are teasing, but not unkind.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I divert my eyes from her to Harrison, who is staring at me with narrowed eyes and a scrunched-up forehead.
I already know it’s his thinking face. I’ve seen it in a few meetings I’ve sat in on to take minutes.
I’m just not sure what he’s so pensive about right this minute.
“Okay, how about you, ‘darlin?” It’s obvious she’s talking to him, but Harrison doesn’t take his gaze off me, even when he orders.
“I’ll have a cola, please. And then we’ll have two bread bowls with French onion soup, one of your roast beef sandwiches—hold the horseradish—and one of your three-cheese grilled cheeses, please.”
“What are you doing?” I ask him in a hushed tone. “I already ordered.”
“How do you know any of this is for you?” He turns his eyes to the server. “I think that’ll do it, don’t you?”
She winks at him, smiles, and walks away.
I’m mentally calculating how much my meal will cost me. Maybe if I don’t eat dinner, I can still stay close to my food budget for the day.
“Why didn’t you order food?” he asks. He studies me intently, and I both hate and love how that makes me feel. Damn it.
“I’m not hungry. You shouldn’t have ordered all that food. Just make sure she puts it on separate checks, and half of it goes on mine.”
“No, that’s not gonna happen.”
“What are you talking about? I can pay for my own.” I hear the defensiveness in my voice and inwardly cringe. He’s just trying to be nice. “You don’t even know what I like.”
“Yes, I do. You nearly died when you came in and smelled the French onion soup cooking, so I’m pretty sure that’s going to be a winner. Then, I figured since you eat half of a cheese sandwich almost every day for lunch, that you’d be okay with the grilled cheese.”
He smirks at me, probably because my mouth is agape.
“Fine. But I can get my own.”
“Delaney, no. I’m your boss. I made you come to a working lunch. I basically kidnapped you —you have no vehicle here— so the least I can do is drop a couple of dollars to get you lunch.”
I’m just about to respond when a loud “Woo-hoo!” falls across the room.
“Is that my suit stud? And my sweetheart, Delaney?” I recognize that voice even from a distance.
Harrison groans, and I turn to see Ruthie and Lester. I don’t know him well, but he was nice when I met him a few weeks ago at the pizza shop. Ruthie approaches our table in her fuchsia-colored, sequined jogging suit, and Lester is in jeans and a white T-shirt with a flannel shirt over it.
“My, oh my, I didn’t know I was gonna have my dessert first by seeing you today, suit stud,” Ruthie cackles.
“That’s not appropriate. Please stop calling me that, Ruthie,” Harrison mutters. His cheeks are bright pink.
Lester chuckles. “You know that’s not gonna stop her, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Harrison runs a hand through his hair and grips a handful.
“Hi, Delaney. Good to see you again,” Lester says.
“Hi. You too.”
“Are you two on a date?” Ruthie interjects. She looks at me and winks. I want to crawl under the table and die.
“No, this is a working lunch,” I rush to tell her.
“Oh yeah? What kind of work are you doing? I don’t see anything on the table.” Ruthie clearly chooses to ignore the legal pad and files.
“Even though it’s none of your business, I’m taking some variance applications to the building department this afternoon. I’m going through the basics of how to do it with Delaney.”
Ruthie scowls. “Is she gonna have to deal with that witch, Susie? If she were dying of thirst, I wouldn’t even spit on her.”
Harrison has a faint smirk on his face as he listens to her.
“Come on, Ruthie, that’s a little bit harsh. Don’t you think?” Lester chastises her, but I swear he’s holding back a grin.
“You know what she did, Lester.” Ruthie’s eyes are full of fire. Ooh, she’s not kidding when she says she doesn’t like whoever Susie is.
“What did she do?” Harrison asks.
“I’ll tell you what she did.” Ruthie hisses. “She stole my man. The little harlot!”