Erik narrows his eyes. “That’s a loaded statement.”
I drop my cutlery on the table and wipe my mouth. “The owner and I ironed things out during the week I was in Riowith his lawyers and mine. I have the power to act on his behalf until?—”
My gaze flies up over Erik’s head.
I squint.
No way.
Of all the restaurants in all of Manhattan, she had to work in this one…
“Kaz, what is it?”
“We’ve already been here for twenty minutes, and it’s the first time I see her.”
Erik’s brows touch. “Her? Who are you talking about?”
I’m guessing she just started her shift. Nearly a year later, and I’d recognize the gorgeous blonde with my eyes closed. “Harley McKenzie Lancaster.”
Erik whips his head around before turning in my direction. “She’s here? Your stepson’s girlfriend? The woman you’ve been fixated on after meeting her once? Your secret obsession?”
More like a twisted obsession.
I curl my hand into a fist at the thought.
Wanting her as much as I do after meeting her only once has always felt weird. Forbidden. Like I’d be breaking a boundary that would send me straight to hell.
I skewer Erik with an unimpressed stare. “Chett is myex-stepson.”
“Notice how you didn’t correct the other two statements.” His eyes hold mischief.
If he wasn’t my best friend, I’d deck him for that comment.
My focus returns to Harley.
My gaze fixes on her ponytail.
I’d love nothing more than to wrap my hand around it and pull it hard as I take control of her like a wild bull?—
“Looks like you’re getting a two for one special,” Erik says. “You get to help the owner of this restaurant and reconnect with Harley.”
“This lunch is all business. I’m here to find out which employee has their hand in the cookie jar.”Bumping into Harley wasn’t on the menu.
He drops his fork in his pasta bowl. “Are you saying you’re not going to approach her?”
I hold his gaze, my nostrils flaring.
“Message received,” he says. “Moving right along. Speaking of your two-timing ex-wife?—”
“We weren’t talking about her.”
“By extension, we were. Harley is your ex-stepson’s girlfriend. Devlyn is his mother and your ex-wife.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“Are you going to take your publicist’s suggestion to mitigate the media shit show your ex orchestrated because she decided to rewrite New York’s equitable distribution marital clause?”
Okay, that was a roundabout way to ask that question.“I don’t know, Erik. What the publicist is suggesting isn’t my style. I’m not a Hollywood celebrity who’s been misbehaving or an out of control rockstar. I’m a hockey player turned restaurant and craft beer brewery owner.”
