“Perhaps, but perception is everything. You know it. You’re trying to close an important deal, but the owner is giving you the runaround. My guess is he’s not sure what to make of the sensationalism surrounding your name. After all, your drama queen of an ex did a bang-up job weaponizing the divorce proceedings. Sure, in the end, you came out on top because the judge was a stickler for fairness, but your public image suffered.”
“It’s not like my public image was that of an agreeable man to start off with.”
“You need to woo the owner so you can close that deal. What your publicist is suggesting is a quick image rehab.”
I let out a long breath. “I don’t have the personality to pull off the charade she’s suggesting.”And after Devlyn, I’m weary of getting involved with another woman.
Erik tilts his head to the side. “You’re going to walk away from a deal that would catapult you as a leader in the craft beer industry? Did your competitive nature get snuffed out once you stepped off the ice? Kazimir Lindström always plays to win?—”
“Would you stop using my full name? You sound like a fucking sports commentator.”Or my loser of a father.
He shoots me a smug look. “I’m only trying to fan the ‘beast on the ice’ energy that always had you fired up and ready.”
I shake my head.
My attention swings back to Harley.
She’s in professional mode, busy taking the order of a table that seats five men in suits.
One of them says something to her.
Harley smiles.
I’ve been on the receiving end of her smile, and it’s so brilliant, it could rival the sun. It lights up her face, bumping up her natural beauty by several notches. It’s nothing like the forced smile that’s tugging at her lips right now. And there’s a veil of… sadness in those sea-green eyes. It’s as if she’s walking around with a cloud hovering over her head. Maybe it’s weariness or she’s going through a difficult patch. One thing is certain, she’s carrying a load that’s way too heavy for her shoulders.
She lost a lot of weight. She lost her curves?—
Wait a minute.
What is Harley doing working as a waitress in a restaurant? She’s a corporate florist and she was supposed to start a business with a woman and her husband. Is she working in a restaurant part-time while getting her new business up and running?
My wayward thoughts come to an abrupt stop when Harley’s head jerks back. She frowns down at one of the men at the table.
What did the asshole tell her?
Harley squares her shoulders, turns on her heel, and heads towards the bar. She returns a few minutes later with a tray of drinks, which she distributes to the five men.
Mr. Douchebag says something before flashing her a slimy smirk.
Harley stiffens.
My upper lip curls up.
I want to make him eat whatever he said to her.
“You’ve never set foot in this restaurant until today,” Erik says. “Here you are doing a favor for a friend of a friend, and the woman who made such an impression on you—the one you couldn’t shut up about—is standing mere feet away.”
I’m not sure what to make of this coincidence either.
The day I met the beautiful blonde that captured my attention from the moment she said hello, things weren’t in my favor. She was with my entitled stepson, and I was gearing up for a divorce after catching my wife fucking another man in my home on her birthday?—
My eyes widen and my head jerks back.
“What is it, Kaz?”
“A patron who doesn’t value his life just groped Harley’s ass.”
Harley glares at the dipshit.
