The Allure of Dean Harper

by R.S. Grey

I could barely hear Brian through the ether; I was too focused on the man slipping back through the crowd.

  He was just another customer…right?

  “That was Dean Harper.” He laughed, answering his own question. “It was nice knowin’ you.”

  Chapter Five

  Dean

  Zoe: You didn’t fire the new girl did you? Tell me you aren’t that stupid.

  I ignored Zoe’s text and laced up my beaten-up running shoes. My phone buzzed again and I reluctantly read the text.

  Zoe: The bar brought in four times the amount it usually does last night. JUST FYI.

  Zoe had been with my team for the last five years. We worked well together because she was a good manager and one hundred percent uninterested in me—or any other man for that matter. I brought her in as a temporary manager at the start of every restaurant. She helped me hire and train the new staff for the first few weeks, and she was damn good at her job. Her knack for annoying banter was not why I kept her around.

  Zoe: Why’d you do it?

  I would have ignored her question, but something told me she wouldn’t stop until I appeased her.

  Dean: She’s not Provisions material.

  My phone buzzed instantly.

  Zoe: Yeah, you’re right. Making money is overrated.

  I plugged my headphones in and pulled up my workout playlist. Zoe could text her fingers raw, but I had to start my run. My calves were tight from my last workout, but the tension would ease up by the time I reached the park. I locked up my apartment and slipped my spare key into the laces of my left shoe. Then, I took off.

  I had to do some form of exercise every day, and I wasn’t particularly committed to one specific thing. Running, biking, rowing, anything that got my limbs moving made it easier to tame the fire burning inside me. I’d pound the pavement and feel the pieces of my life fall into place.

  I’d thought I’d be happy after I made my first million, my tenth, my twentieth. I’d thought by the time I had a solid grip on New York’s restaurant scene, I’d be satisfied. I was wrong. The fire never died and I always wanted more.

  Any freshman in college with a handful of psychology credits could connect the dots that I was using work to fill an emotional void in my life, but objectively speaking, they had to be wrong. I didn’t have voids. I’d had more than my fair share of women and I’d even truly loved one or two of them along the way. I yearned for nothing, lacked for nothing, and yet still, I pushed myself harder.

  Why?

  Because some people just like a challenge.

  I was rounding a trail in Central Park when my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I checked it, prepared to ignore Zoe again, but Julian’s name popped up instead.

  “Julian, what’s up?” I asked, using the opportunity to catch my breath. I was only halfway done with my run, but I stretched my hamstring with my free hand, careful not to overextend the muscle.

  “Hey man, are you back in town?” he asked.

  “Landed last night.”

  “Let me guess, you went straight to work, barely slept, and now you’re what—working out?”

  I smirked. Julian and I had been friends since college. He knew my habits better than anyone. “Touché, jackass. What do you want?”

  He laughed and then I heard a female voice in the background. Likely, he was with his girlfriend, Josephine.

  “I’m over at Central Park taking pictures for Jo’s blog. You should come by. I think we’re going to head to breakfast after we get all the shots she needs.”

  I couldn’t do breakfast, but I was already in Central Park. It wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a few minutes. I’d finish the other half of my run afterward.

  “Where are you?”

  “Lower east side, right by 72nd.”

  I glanced up at the street sign. I was at 66th and Broadway, so if I cut straight over, I’d be there in no time.

  “All right, see you in a sec.”

  Central Park was packed with families and tourists trying to make the most of their Saturday morning. In a few hours, the park would almost be too hot to inhabit, but with the sun hidden behind townhouses to the east, the temperature was still cool. I slowed to a walk when I neared 72nd Street and scanned the park for Julian and Josephine. I rounded Rumsey Playfield, and then kept walking along the trail. I was just about to hit 5th Avenue when I heard laughter.

  “Lily. Shut up! I can’t take serious pictures if you’re making jokes the whole time.”

  “What am I supposed to do?! Your face looks weird! I said to look like a tiger, not a constipated house cat.”

  I veered toward the voices and scanned the trail until I spotted them off to the side, nearly hidden in the trees. Josephine posed up on a rock with the forest as her backdrop. She was dressed to the nines for her fashion blog and an unfamiliar blonde was snapping photos of her a few feet away. Julian stood off to the side, probably trying to stay out of the line of fire.

  “Try doing something like this,” the blonde said, angling her body into a pose I’d seen celebrity women do a thousand times. The effort revealed an inch of tantalizing skin between her jean shorts and her white shirt. The simple outfit and her matching pair of Converse reminded me of the girls back home in Iowa.

  I took a step closer, paused my music, and wrapped my headphones around my neck. My movement caught Josephine’s attention; she grinned and hopped off the rock. “The titan of industry made it!”

  “Hey Jo,” I said before throwing Julian a nod.

  Her photographer was the last one to turn to greet me. She was tinkering with the camera, staring down at it so that her hair covered nearly half her face. I focused on the half I could see, that single high cheekbone and the pink lips that curved into a smile.

  I took another step closer and she glanced up, lazily flicking her gaze up my workout shorts and tank. I recognized her a moment before she made the connection; when my identity finally sank in for her, a flame flared behind her bright eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked.

  Chapter Six

  Lily

  Dean Harper had some nerve. (And a seriously toned physique, if you were someone who paid attention to that kind of thing. I, of course, could not have cared less.) After he’d axed me the previous evening I’d known we were bound to have a run-in sometime. I just hadn’t really anticipated that it would happen the very next morning.

  I was still licking my wounds for Christ’s sake.

  I stepped closer and gripped Josephine’s camera with enough fury to turn it to dust. She took notice and gently pried it from my fingers before it became a casualty of the turf war that was about to ensue.

  To his credit, Dean looked just as pissed as I did. His dark eyes scanned me up and down, seemingly disgusted to see me standing there. “You’re Lily?”

  “Lily Noelle Black,” I sneered. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended—it must be so hard for you to keep track of all the people you’re an asshole to.”

  Julian stepped into no-man’s land, holding his hands up between us. With his dark hair and chiseled features, he usually seemed intimidating, but in front of Dean, he couldn’t compare. They were about the same height, but Dean had more muscle—muscle he probably wanted to use to strangle me at that very moment. “Jesus. What is wrong with you two?” Julian asked. “What happened last night?”

  I crossed my arms, cocked my hip, and flashed Dean an “I got you, bitch” sort of smirk. “Go ahead, tell them, Dean. For the second time in twelve hours, I yield the floor to you.”

  Dean tugged his hands through his hair, confirming my suspicion about his habit. Then he pulled his gaze from mine and looked to Julian. For what, solace? Moral support? Yeah right, bucko.

  “Lily had her first night at Provisions last night and she turned my bar into a Coyote Ugly knockoff.”

  My eyes bulged out of my face. Literally. They had to have fallen out of my skull in response to the amount of bullshit he’d just spewed. I
glanced at the ground, confirmed my eyeballs were not in fact lying there, and then stepped closer to Dean with my finger pointed right at his chest.

  Julian straightened his arms out between us, prepared to keep us apart if it came down to it.

  “I did not mess up your bar. I made you so much money it’s ridiculous!”

  Dean’s eyes flared with anger. “You insulted my menu in front of the customers! You disrespected me and my staff—”

  “Oh c’mon! That drink menu sucks and you know it! Bahama Mamas? How innovative.”

  “Okay! Whoa.” Josephine stepped in, grabbed me by the upper arms, and cut off my view of Dean’s death stare. I focused on her and for the first time since Dean had arrived, I was able to take a calming breath.

  “Lily. You need to cool it,” she said.

  “And Dean,” Julian cut in. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  We both grunted in annoyance, so in sync that I would have laughed had I not despised him so much. Jo turned to Julian and they exchanged a worried glance.

  “Why don’t we go to our separate corners for a bit,” Julian suggested.

  Jo nodded. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  I hated being patronized. Dean and I didn’t need mediators. He and I could work out our problems on our own, but Julian had already turned and directed Dean back to the trail. I watched his back, waiting for him to turn around and throw me one last death stare, but he never turned back and Josephine pulled me away before I could think to hurl one last obscenity his way.

  I kicked up dirt on the path, still reeling from the skirmish. Josephine squeezed my shoulder as we walked toward 5th Avenue.

  “Wow. So that was—”

  I glanced up at her. “Horrific.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Colorful.”

  “You should have seen the way he treated me last night.”

  She rolled her lips together and slid her green gaze my way. “Well, I can guess that it wasn’t very good.”

  “He pretended to be a shitty customer and then fired me on the spot. Right in front of the other bartenders.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. “Seriously?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you want to go back? I’ll hold him down and let you kick his shins.”

  I smirked. The idea of attacking Dean with Josephine as an accomplice sounded tempting, but there had to be a better way to get under his skin. I just had to think.

  “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go to the apartment. I need to get back to my job search anyway.”

  I caught her frown out of the corner of my eye. “I’m so sorry Lil, but I can’t. Julian and I have breakfast plans with his sister and then she wants to show me some of the designs from her upcoming collection.”

  I’d been in New York for two days and already I felt like Josephine was too busy for me.

  “Will you be back in time for dinner?”

  “Vogue bloggers are meeting up for a work happy hour,” she recited, eyeing her phone’s calendar.

  I nodded. Perfect. I had very important plans too. They included: emailing my resume to every restaurant within a one hundred mile radius while streaming a Pretty Little Liars marathon for background noise to fool me into thinking I wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Dean

  “Dean, you have to hire Lily back.”

  I glared at Julian and he arched his brows for emphasis. “I’m dead serious.”

  I’d walked with him through the park, explaining my side of the story from the night before. I knew I wasn’t one hundred percent in the right, but Lily definitely wasn’t an angel. Her attitude? Her personality? She was like a cat backed into a corner: claws out, ready to strike.

  “Look, I know she’s your friend, and I don’t doubt that she’s probably a delight to be around most days, but those hotheaded employees never last long. Why do you think I have to work for myself?”

  Julian shook his head.

  “She just moved from Texas two days ago. She moved in with Jo and needs work. She isn’t going to make or break you or your restaurants. This is about helping out a friend.”

  “Well, you’re asking too much of me, man. Josephine? She’s like a sweet southern peach. If she needed a job, I’d give her one in a second.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think she’d ditch Vogue to go roll silverware for you.”

  I clapped my hands. “Well there you have it. The job fair is closed.”

  “You’re being a dick.”

  I whirled around to face him. “Did you not just listen to me? I-do-not-like-Lily. I’m not going to hire her in my restaurant. Not now. Not ever.”

  He crossed his arms and studied me. What he was looking for? I had no fucking clue.

  “Wipe the slate clean and give her one more chance. You two didn’t meet in the best circumstances. Let’s go to dinner so that you can both bury the hatchet. If it still doesn’t work out after that, fine, but at least you can explain to Josephine that you tried not once, but twice to help Lily out.”

  I hated being told what to do. Always had. I liked to listen to my own instincts, especially when it came to my companies. Unfortunately, I knew that banishing Lily from my professional life wouldn’t matter if she had already spilled over into my personal life. I considered Julian and Josephine to be my closest friends. For that reason—and that reason alone—I nodded and agreed to dinner.

  “7 PM Monday. You pick a neutral territory and I want her patted down before I arrive.”

  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 wors
e.

  "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.