That was a roundabout way to ask that question.“I don’t know, Erik. What the publicist is suggesting isn’t my style.”
“It’s a quick image rehab.”
“I’m a hockey player. I’m not an actor. I don’t have the personality to pull off the charade.” 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.
She smiles.
I’ve been on the receiving end of her smile, and it’s so arresting, 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?
Harley’s head jerks back, and my wayward thoughts come to an abrupt stop. She frowns down at one of the men at the table.
What did the asshole tell her?
She squares her shoulders, turns on her heel, and heads toward the bar. She returns a few minutes later with a tray of drinks, which she distributes to the five men.
The 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.
I shift my eyes to him.
“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.
Harley returns to the table with a tray weighed down with food and drops each plate in front of the patrons.
My eyes widen and my head rears back.
“What is it, Kaz?”
“An asshole who doesn’t value his life just groped Harley’s ass.”
She glares at the dipshit.
There’s a ping-pong exchange between them.
She shakes her head.
She’s about to turn around, but the piece of shit grabs her wrist.
