Chapter 10 Harrison
The paperwork spread across Harrison’s desk was the kind most people would have pushed off until morning, but he had always preferred handling things while the club was still alive around him.
The bass from the dance floor filtered faintly through the walls of his office, a steady vibration that had long ago become part of the rhythm of his evenings.
Oasis was running smoothly tonight.
It usually did.
Harrison reviewed the final line of numbers in the ledger before setting the folder aside and leaning back slightly in his chair.
From where he sat he could see a portion of the main floor through the office window.
Amber light glinted off the polished bar while staff moved through the room with quiet efficiency, the early crowd settling into tables and lounge seating as the night slowly built toward its usual energy.
Control had always been the foundation of Oasis.
Most people assumed the atmosphere came naturally, but Harrison knew better. Every detail had been deliberate from the beginning. Lighting, sound, staff movement, even the way the bar had been positioned in the room. When a place was run properly, people felt it whether they understood why or not.
His gaze drifted briefly toward the bar before returning to the paperwork.
For a moment his thoughts wandered somewhere else entirely.
Kelsey Kincaid.
The drive that morning replayed easily in his mind, along with the careful smile she had offered when he asked about the restaurant.
Things are good.
She had said it too smoothly.
Too quickly.
Harrison didn’t press people for honesty unless he already knew the answer.
And he knew.
Something at Seven Stones was wrong.
Kelsey was carrying it alone, just like she had been carrying everything else for far too long.
He closed the ledger and slid it aside.
Tuesday night would be interesting.
A shadow moved in the doorway before Archer stepped into view, leaning one shoulder casually against the frame as he glanced around the office.
“Working late again?”
Harrison finished the line he was writing, closed the folder in front of him, then nodded toward the chair across the desk.
Archer stepped inside and dropped into the seat, stretching his legs out comfortably.
“Just stopped in to check on Cassidy,” he said. “She had a rough start to the morning.”
Harrison’s mouth twitched faintly.
“So I heard.”
Archer huffed a quiet laugh and leaned back in the chair.
“Yeah. I imagine you did.”
Harrison rested his forearms on the desk, his expression calm.
“She knows better.”
Archer gave a small nod.
“She does.”
Neither of them elaborated further. They didn’t need to.
After a moment Archer shifted slightly in the chair.
“Kelsey’s car was still sitting in my driveway this morning.”
Archer’s brow lifted slightly.
“Cassidy said you took her home.”
“She had too much to drink,” Harrison said evenly.
A quiet beat passed before Harrison leaned back slightly in his chair.
“I’m taking her to dinner Tuesday.”
Archer watched him for a moment, clearly interested now.
“That so?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Salt & Vine.”
Archer nodded.
“Good choice.”
“It is.”
Salt & Vine sat along the quieter stretch of Harbor Point’s waterfront near the marina.
Kent had opened the place years ago, and it had quickly become one of the most reliable reservations in town—good food, steady service, and the kind of atmosphere that made people linger longer than they planned.
Archer leaned back slightly in the chair again.
“You planning to push her about whatever she’s dealing with?”
“Yes.”
Archer chuckled softly as he pushed himself out of the chair.
“Kelsey Kincaid isn’t exactly known for making things easy.”
“I’m aware.”
Archer paused in the doorway before glancing back.
“Just remember she’s been the one holding everything together for a long time.”
“I know.”
Archer nodded once and stepped out into the hallway.
When the door closed again, the office settled into quiet. The bass from the club hummed steadily through the walls while Harrison leaned back in his chair and stared out the window toward the floor below.
For a while he simply watched the room.
Oasis moved exactly the way it was supposed to.
Staff circulating.
Music rising and falling.
Guests relaxing into the atmosphere he had built.
Eventually his thoughts returned to the same place they had been circling all evening.
Kelsey.
The lie she had offered him that morning still sat in his mind like a loose thread.
Things are good.
They weren’t.
And she knew he knew it.
The drive replayed easily in his memory, along with the moment he had finally stopped her from brushing the conversation aside.
She had gone very still when he made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate dishonesty from her, her cheeks flushing that soft shade of pink that had nothing to do with the wine she’d been drinking earlier.
Most people would have argued.
Kelsey hadn’t.
She had simply looked at him for a moment, caught somewhere between embarrassment and something else she hadn’t quite managed to hide.
Curiosity.
The corner of Harrison’s mouth lifted slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
He had seen that look before.
Women who spent years carrying everything on their own often reacted that way the first time someone suggested they didn’t have to anymore. They fought it, of course. Independence became a habit after long enough.
But underneath the resistance there was almost always a quieter reaction.
Relief.
Kelsey wasn’t ready to admit that yet.
Not to him.
Possibly not even to herself.
But Harrison had no intention of letting her keep pretending forever.
Tuesday night would take care of that.
Harrison leaned back once more, letting the hum of the club settle around him.
Sooner or later Kelsey Kincaid was going to stop pretending she didn’t need help.
And when that moment finally came—
He intended to be the one she turned to.