Текст книги "The Allure of Dean Harper "

Автор книги: R. S. Grey

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

Lily

Nights I’d been in New York: three.

Nights Josephine had stayed at Julian’s apartment: three.

When I’d pictured my move to New York City, it was Josephine and I taking on the world. I’d had dreams of exploring the city with her. Y’know, experiencing our first mugging together, paying ten bucks in Chinatown to get our hair dyed, and then laughing days later as it all fell out. See? Fun! Unfortunately, it looked like I would be exploring the city solo. Sadly, I had the feeling that going bald by myself wouldn’t be nearly as amusing.

Josephine had been my best friend since we had buckteeth and Polly Pockets shoved up our noses. I’d made the move to New York City partly for her, but she had a new boyfriend who looked like the offspring of two beautiful soap opera stars, so I was no longer her top priority.

I sighed and shoved my hand back into the cereal box, only to find it empty. Blast. I could have wallowed in self-pity for another solid thirty minutes at least, but not without a constant stream of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I had no choice; I had to leave the apartment.

I crawled toward my suitcase and reached for the first thing my fingers brushed. It was a soft blue t-shirt with a white outline of Texas stretched across the front. In the center, in a bold font, it read “Made”.

I cried as I gripped it in my hand. The tears shocked me. They were ugly and loud enough that the neighbors could definitely hear, but I couldn’t stop. I was in way over my head. I’d had one job prospect in New York City. Provisions was supposed to provide me with a steady income until I landed something more permanent. Instead, Dean Harper had stomped around like an angry wolf, huffing and puffing and blowing my dreams down before I could even begin to build them. Wait…that makes me one of the stupid pigs with shitty building materials. I cried harder.

My phone buzzed on the floor beside me and Josephine’s face flashed across the screen. She was asleep in the photo. Her dark hair was sticking up in every direction and I’d drawn male genitalia across her cheeks. It was a photo from our senior year of high school and it still made me laugh.

"What are you doing?” she asked.

I stared down at the Made in Texas shirt. “Nothing.”

That sounded lame.

“Working out,” I corrected.

"Oh wow, good for you. Cardio? The city has some fun trails.”

I rolled my eyes and fell back onto the floor. She was only making me feel worse.

"What are your plans for the day?” I asked.

"I have to do an interview for my Vogue column and then finish up taking those outfit photos from yesterday to post on my blog. Want to hang out later?”

Finally! Light at the end of the tunnel!

“Sounds good.”

“K. I’ll call you.”

She hung up and I stared up at the ceiling, realizing for the first time that I had essentially moved to New York without a solid plan. I’d left everything behind in Texas: my steady but terrible job at Acapulco Tex-Mex Grill, my pile of unfinished Pinterest DIY projects, and a beat-up red car I’d lovingly nicknamed Hoopty.

For what?

To make it in the restaurant industry.

And what was I doing? Throwing the world’s biggest pity party. I couldn’t give up on my dreams on day three, even if Dean Harper was an asshole and even if Josephine was too busy to actually hang out with me. I’d find a cooler boss than Dean and awesome friends other than Josephine.

I gripped on to that tiny sliver of hope and sat up. I couldn’t sit around and wait for my dreams to happen. I had to take life by the horns. I brushed my hair and my teeth, and then threw on a business-casual outfit. Practical, slim-fitting navy slacks, flats, and one of Josephine’s white blouses. She at least owed me that much.

A little under-eye concealer hid my temporary mental breakdown, and a dab of mascara brought me back to the land of the living.

I felt like I was in a music video as I walked toward the subway station. “You Only Live Once” by The Strokes blasted through my headphones, giving me a little pep in my step.

I was heading down into the subway system for the first time when Josephine texted me. I wasn’t sure if I’d lose cell reception down in the depths of Middle Earth—or wherever the subway stairs led—so I slid to the side and pressed up against the subway tiles as I read what she’d sent.

Josephine: Just got word that Julian wants to do dinner tonight. Meet us at Gramercy Tavern around 7? His treat!

Lily: Sounds good.

I smiled. I could brag to them about everything I’d managed to get done that day. Oh me? I’m just employed at the swankiest restaurant in town and I got invited to Baby Blue Ivy’s birthday party. So yeah, killin’ it.

I headed for the bottom of the stairs and paused as I took in the zoo around me. Confident, fast-paced New Yorkers were zooming effortlessly around the subway station. I watched them push their way through metal turnstiles and wondered where they’d acquired their little swipey card things. I turned in a circle, looking for an information booth, but it was hard to see beyond the hordes of people in black, gray, and shades of brown. You would have thought the state had outlawed color. I mean, really people.

I tried to catch someone’s eye so I could ask for help, but not a single person glanced my way. I was officially on my own. I moved out of everyone’s way and was about to search “how to use the NYC subway system” on my phone when I noticed a text Josephine had sent a few minutes earlier.

Josephine: Oh and no big deal, but Dean will be joining us. Okay, bye. TTYL.

“Shit.”

“Lady, you okay?”

I glanced away from my phone to find a homeless man sitting on the floor beside me. His white scraggly beard was nearly a foot long and his hair was made up of tight dreadlocks sticking out in every direction. His light grey eyes met mine and I frowned.

“Y’know, not really,” I admitted.

He shrugged. “Mama told me there’d be days like that.”

I nodded. Wise words for a man wearing a shirt that read “The Blue Bunny Strip Club XXX.”

“I’m Lily,” I offered, sticking out my hand.

He focused his gaze on my palm, seemingly confused about what to do with it. I wrapped my fingers back into a fist and let my hand fall.

“Nelson,” he said with a nod.

“Ever taken the subway?” I asked before glancing back out at the crowd of people.

He spoke with such a thick accent that the words seemed to blend together. “What kind of question is that? You think I hang out down here for the scenery?”

All right then. “I’ll buy you a burger if you help me figure it out.”

“With cheese?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

And that’s how Nelson the vagabond became my first friend in New York City. Hello, full social calendar.

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

Lily

After a full day of job-hunting, I turned the corner onto 20th Street and immediately picked up the tantalizing scents filling the air around Gramercy Tavern. A hint of roasted chicken was enough to send my stomach growling for the one-thousandth time that evening. Somewhere between breakfast and dinner, I was supposed to stop and feed myself, but I hadn’t had the time. In a moment of weakness, I’d stopped for a hot pretzel from a street vendor, but in another moment of even greater weakness, I’d tripped and dropped the pretzel into a puddle. FML.

I pulled open the heavy wood door and nearly fainted on the spot as the smell of garlic mashed potatoes hit me in full force. Be still my heart. There were a dozen people waiting to be seated, all pressed together in the foyer. I pushed through them to find the hostess stand and smiled at the petite blonde ready to jot my name down on her clipboard.

“Hi, how many in your party?”

“Oh, I think there should be a reservation under Mr. Lefr—”

“Lily.”

My back stiffened at the sound of my name uttered by a familiar deep voice. Please be Julian. Please be Julian. I turned on my heel and came face to face with Dean Harper leaning against the wall of the foyer with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black slacks. His brows were furrowed, his bow lips were set in a thin line and his brown eyes were emitting disdain on levels that should have been reserved for truly heinous criminals. Or y’know that annoying person who tries to cut in front of you in the frozen yogurt line. I’m getting toppings, whore. This isn’t a free-for-all.

I took a step toward him and then gawked as the redhead beside him leaned in to kiss his cheek. She was nearly his height, which made her a few inches taller than me, but it was her hair that held my attention. The strands were made of pure fire, the same shade she’d used to coat her lips. Her dress was tight and black, wrapped around her body in a way that made me tug at the simple white blouse I’d put on that morning. I’d run around the city in it for the last twelve hours, so chances were I was sporting approximately two to four mystery stains and enough wrinkles to make it seem as if I’d just pulled it out of the hamper.

“We’re waiting on Julian and Jo,” Dean said, foregoing any sort of greeting. I glanced back to him and caught the tail end of his perusal of my outfit. I arched a brow as our eyes locked.

“You brought a friend,” I said with a polite smile aimed at the woman to his left.

“A date,” he corrected.

Of course.

“Ah, well, I didn’t realize we were bringing dates.”

He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m sorry, I’ll have Jo clear that with you next time. Just so we’re all on the same page.” He spoke with unaffected indifference.

I opened my mouth to reply when his date stepped forward and cut the tension brewing between us. “I’m Casey,” she said, holding out her hand as a peace offering. Her smile was genuine, albeit a little desperate. I’m sure she felt the awkwardness as much as I did.

“Lily,” I said, accepting her handshake and cursing the heavens. How does someone get hands that soft?

“Nice to meet you, Lily,” she beamed.

She was beautiful and polite; what the hell was she doing with Dean?

“How did you two meet?” I asked, focusing my attention on Casey.

She smiled and reached for his hand so she could twine their fingers together. “It’s actually a funny story. I was at a coffee shop, y’know that cool place up on 43rd?” She glanced at Dean. “What’s it called?” Before he could reply, she continued the ‘funny’ story with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, I was ordering a bagel, but I wanted a blueberry one and they were all out of blueberry so then…”

My attention span had been shot somewhere between her first and second sentence, but I pretended to follow along. I didn’t need to know her life story. I just wanted to know if he’d somehow drugged her to get her to go out with him.

“And so then anyway, Dean comes up and asks, ‘Is this your coffee’?”

Nope. Still boring. Tune out.

“So yeah!” she said, with a dimpled smile and a shrug, wrapping up her story a few minutes later. “That’s about it. I guess this is our second official date.”

I smiled, hatching a plan to hit Dean in the wallet. “Well what a special night for you guys. We’d better celebrate. Dean, why don’t you order a nice bottle of champagne while we wait?”

“I loooove champagne!” crooned Casey as I grabbed a wine list from the hostess stand.

“I think we should wait for Jul—”

“Nonsense! Casey, would you say you’re a light-bodied brut girl?” I asked.

“My favorites are the really bubbly champagnes. I like the way it tickles my nose!” she chirped adorably.

“Bubbly brut, got it.” I smiled wide as I found a $600 bottle on the menu. “I think the Selosse would be perfect, don’t you agree Dean?”

For a millisecond I thought I spotted a smirk cross Dean’s lips, a sly acknowledgement that he knew what game I was playing, but when I glanced back, it was gone. Stoic resolve coated his features, drawing a distinct line between where he stood and where I stood. Apart. Separate. We were practically two different species.

The restaurant’s door opened and a frazzled Josephine waltzed in followed by Julian at her heels. They looked love-swept with flushed faces and giant smiles.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Josephine said, squeezing her palms together in a silent prayer that I’d forgive her for being late. “We got held up at the apartment.”

I smirked. “Lose the key to the handcuffs again?”

Casey squealed and leaned forward to bat my arm. “You’re so bad!”

“Excuse me.” The hostess stepped up to our group. “Is everyone in your party present now?”

Dean pushed off the wall. “Yup. Let’s get this show on the road.” He brushed past me, leaving his date behind in favor of leading the group to our table. I watched him walk, wholeheartedly perplexed by him. The hostess tried to make small talk, but his answers were clipped and disinterested.

“I swear he’s not always like this,” Josephine whispered as we walked side by side through the restaurant.

I slid my gaze to hers. “You mean he doesn’t always exude assholery like it’s his job?”

She frowned. “I knew he was a control freak, but I’ve only been around him when he’s in party mode.”

I shrugged, sliding my gaze back in his direction. He’d made it to the table a few steps in front of us and was already pulling out a chair.

“Casey,” he said abruptly, directing her to take the seat beside him. How politely controlling of him.

She sat down like a dutiful date and I nabbed the seat beside her so that I wouldn’t split up the two lovebirds. Julian held out Josephine’s chair and then leaned down to kiss her hair. She smiled up at him adoringly and my stomach twisted at the site. Envy wasn’t a familiar feeling for me and I wasn’t sure how to compartmentalize the sensation. Did I want a boyfriend? I hadn’t thought of it. I was too busy trying to focus on my career. Would I love a one-night stand? Some kickass sex? Absolutely. Unfortunately, the only bachelor I’d met in New York City was Nelson and something told me I should hold out for a man who’d at least showered in the last month. Y’know, draw the line somewhere…

Our waiter appeared in a penguin suit complete with a perfectly placed bow tie. He leaned down to place our menus in front of us and then popped our napkins open with a flourish, draping them over the laps of every female diner. That familiar rush ran through me as I picked up the tavern’s menu. I lived for good food. The way some people got runner’s highs, I got food highs. Reading over a new menu felt like diving into a new book. At a good restaurant like Gramercy Tavern, the menu told a story—one most people tended to overlook, but not me.

“Good evening, everyone. Our specials for today include a pork bolognese with summer squash and basil. We also have smoked trout with cipollini purée and pickled onions.”

“Oh, I’ve heard good things about the pork bolognese,” I said with a smile.

The waiter glanced over at me with an appreciative nod. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ll give you all a few moments to gather your drink orders and then I’ll be back.”

Once he was gone, we all returned to perusing the menu.

“What’s this?” Josephine asked, leaning toward me and pointing to the first item on the menu.

“It’s like a caprese salad, but with sweet peppers added. You’d like it.”

She nodded and pointed to the next thing. “And this?”

I laughed and began to explain the dishes to the table, ignoring Dean’s glares.

“A restaurant like this is known for their specialty items. I’d skip over the summer greens. It’s a glorified salad and you can get that anywhere. For the first course I’d go with the beef tartare or the lobster salad.”

“Oh my god that sounds so good.” Julian groaned and rubbed his hand over his stomach.

Josephine dropped her menu and stared my way. “Lily, you order for me. I trust your judgment.”

Julian smiled. “Ditto.”

Casey glanced over. “Uh, I think I’ll trust you too. This menu could be in French and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

I beamed. Ordering for someone else was like giving them a little present. I’d already looked up the menu when I was waiting for the subway earlier, so I knew what dishes would be the best.

Dean gripped his menu tighter, running his eyes down the list of items. “I’d prefer to order my own food.”

Josephine and I exchanged a knowing glance and I held back a laugh. What a shame, though, really. It would have been fun to prove to him that I knew what I was doing.

“Could I start anyone off with a cocktail?” the waiter asked, appearing to the right of Casey with his notepad and pen in hand.

“I’d like a rickshaw,” I said with a smile, not bothering with the cocktail menu.

“Oh! What’s in that?” Josephine asked.

“Tito’s vodka, lime, and fresh basil. It’s a good cocktail for the start of a meal. Not too filling.”

Julian smiled. “Let’s get a round of those for the table then.”

Dean spoke up, directing his dark stare at the waiter. “I’ll stick with an old fashioned.”

Josephine rolled her eyes. “Dean, you’re being a stick in the mud.”

Casey laughed. “Yeah, I agree. C’mon, babe. It’ll be fun if we all get the same drink.”

He shook his head and dropped his menu to the table, clearly struggling to keep his temper at bay. Was it that hard to be at dinner with us? Were we such terrible people to be around? Or was it just me?

I tilted my head and studied him. “No worries, Dean. You order want you want.”

“I need your permission even less than I need you to order for me.”

Silence hung around the table as we stared each other down. The waiter cleared his throat and then spoke up. “Okay then, I’ll get the table four rickshaws and one old fashioned.”

I held up my finger. “Actually, let’s make that five rickshaws and an old fashioned. Just in case.”

Dean’s jaw ticked back and forth as the waiter walked away to fill our drink orders. “There’s a fine line between persistence and annoyance.”

My cheeks flamed at his critique, but a fire grew in my veins. If he wanted to take this dinner from pleasant to painful, why should I bother doing anything otherwise?

“Is that the same line that falls between being a control freak and just being an asshole?”

“Okay!” Josephine interrupted with a shrill voice. “Let’s talk about something else now. Who’s watching Game of Thrones? How awesome are Daenerys and her dragons?”

If I had pet dragons, Dean would have already been burned to a crisp long ago.

“I’m going to use the little girls’ room,” Casey said.

I pushed my chair back and stood to join her.

“Mind if I tag along?”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded. I trailed after her, trying to ignore Dean’s heavy stare on my back. I’d thought my hatred for the man had reached an all-time high when he’d fired me, but somehow he’d found a way to ensure his spot as number one on my worst enemies list.

I was washing my hands in the sink when I met Casey’s eyes in the mirror. Honestly, I couldn’t figure out what she was doing with Dean. She was pretty and nice; Dean would suck the life right out of her.

She offered me a tentative smile and before I knew it, evil, albeit funny lies were starting to spill out of my mouth. Dean had played his cards in front of the entire table and now I was going to play mine.

“That’s so great that you’re willing to date Dean even with the, uh, y’know…” I motioned in a circle below my waist. “…situation down there.”

She tilted her head with narrowed eyes. “What?”

I shot her a pitying smile. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad. He almost lost it all together after the electric shaver incident last year.”

She swallowed and then dropped her lipstick back into her purse. Even with her head down I could see her eyes widen in shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Oh no.” I clapped my hand over my mouth as if I’d just spoken out of turn. “I’m sure he was going to tell you soon,” I said, squeezing her shoulder. “I think he just wanted you to get to know him first.”

She groaned and threw her head back. “How long did he think he could go without telling me? Guys like him think they can get away with shit like this just because they’re rich.”

I nodded as if I completely understood. “I know. Personally, it wouldn’t bother me. Except, well, Julian let it slip that Dean refuses to give…” I lowered my voice. “…oral. Even now.”

One of Casey’s eyelids twitched slightly. “I am so over men in this city.”

“Try to cut him some slack. I think he’s just guarded after the Russian mail-order bride fell through last year.” I sighed. “Anastasya.”

Too far? Maybe.

She heaved out a breath and shook her head. “Whatever. I don’t need this. I’m a Knicks cheerleader. Do you know how many guys I could get?”

I nodded with an understanding smile. “Hundreds, I bet.”

“Thanks for telling me though. Girl code, right?”

I grinned. “Exactly.”

We finished primping. She let me borrow some of her red lipstick and I swiped it across my pout, feeling as if I’d just played a winning hand. My hair looked good and there was a healthy glow on my cheeks from walking around the city all day.

Was I being devious by sabotaging Dean’s date?

Without a doubt.

Did I feel guilty as I left the bathroom with Casey on my heels?

I’d never felt so good. Being a diabolical villain was definitely a good look for me.