The Allure of Dean Harper

by R.S. Grey

  “Lily, why don’t you let me explain the entire concept before you start offering ideas? This meeting won’t take long if you just listen for a few minutes.”

  Her jaw dropped and her bright eyes narrowed on me. I’d called her out in front of everyone, but she deserved it. She was a consultant. I was the boss.

  “By all means, take it away.”

  Julian whispered something to her, and she smiled. Another private joke at my expense. Why was it so infuriating that Julian made her smile? Because it was at my expense?

  Or because I wanted to switch places with him?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lily

  I moved into down dog and definitely felt my leg pop out of socket, like an overworked hand-me-down Barbie doll.

  “Shit. I’m going down,” I hissed, slowly sliding down onto my borrowed yoga mat until my face made contact with the sweaty rubber.

  Josephine glanced over at me, sweat slipping down her face. She picked up her hand to flick it off, but it was no use. We were in a heated yoga class. The thermostat read 98 degrees and we were both going to die a slow death. The last sight I was going to see was the ass of the old hippie directly in front of me.

  Did he have to wear the bike shorts?

  Did they have to ride up so high?

  “You’re not supposed to just lay there,” Josephine whispered.

  The instructor told us to root down through our chakras and become one with the earth as we moved into our next round of sun salutations. I wanted to salute the sun with my middle finger.

  “Lily. Come on! We can’t go get crêpes after this if you don’t work out.” Josephine pushed to downward dog and then hopped to the front of her mat. My eyes followed her movements, but my body had no intention of getting up.

  “Class! Class! I want you all to take a breath and look toward this student,” the instructor said, sounding dangerously close. I glanced up to find her bulbous eyes hovering over me, hands motioning toward where I lay on my mat, face down, ass in the air. I’d quite literally collapsed in a heap of skin and bones. “Do you see how she listens to her body? She’s taking this opportunity to do child’s pose. While others push themselves toward unattainable goals, this student has set her own intentions for her practice today. I commend your work today, child.”

  HAHAHA. I was getting a gold star for being lazy.

  I sent a gloating smile toward Josephine as Old Hippie started clapping, and soon the other students were joining in.

  I’d officially won at yoga.

  After class, I wiped down my body with my towel and then sprayed down my mat. They’d probably be better off just burning the thing, but whatever. Josephine and I grabbed our sandals and slipped out of the class before we could get stuck talking to the instructor. She was cornering students by the door, asking them how their bodies had responded to her words.

  “Go, go, go,” I hissed, pushing Josephine through the doorway just in the nick of time.

  She called out after us. “Oh, girls! Great work in class today. Don’t forget to pick up some tea tree oi—”

  “Oh my god, she’s still talking to us,” Josephine said, reaching back for my hand and pulling me farther down the street. We picked up the pace and didn’t slow down until we were a few blocks away from the studio.

  “Why in the world did we just do that?” Josephine asked.

  I peeled my tank top off my chest, away from where it was suction-cupped to my skin with sweat. The fresh morning air was much better than the temperature of the yoga studio.

  “Josephine, you just don’t get it. Yoga is about far more than just exercise. For people like me—y’know experienced yogis—it’s a way of life.”

  “Oh really? Name one yoga pose.” She challenged me with an arched brow.

  “Easy. Upper…moonbeam.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Fine. Downward Dumbledore.”

  “There are no yoga poses named after Harry Potter characters.”

  I frowned. “Are you sure?”

  She wrapped her sticky arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close. “Let’s agree to never go back.”

  I nodded. “Never.”

  “Maybe we can pick up cycling or something?”

  I groaned. “Can’t we just be like those French women that stay skinny by walking a lot and doing the cayenne pepper cleanse?”

  “You realize that when people do that cleanse, they don’t eat or drink anything but juice for days?”

  I stopped walking. “Oh god no. I thought you drank that crap on top of eating whatever you wanted.”

  “Yeah, Lily. ’Cause that’s how diets work.”

  I shook my head. “Okay listen, let’s go eat some crêpes, and then tomorrow we’ll worry about the long-term effects of eating a pastry full of Nutella.”

  She pulled the door open to the crêperie and ushered me inside. “Deal.”

  The inside of the shop smelled like a funnel cake had exploded. Small French-inspired tables were set up on either side of the center aisle and as we passed by the other patrons, I assessed their crêpe choices. There were savory ones with eggs and bacon, and sweet ones with fruit and chocolate sauces. One woman had a crêpe piled high with cinnamon apples and my hand actually itched to steal it from her.

  The line to order was five people long, so we browsed the menus as we waited. I want one of everything.

  “So how was the first day on the job? Was it nice having Julian there as your moral support?”

  I bristled at the reminder of work. I’d barely managed to survive the meeting the day before, what with Dictator Dean stomping around like he owned the place. I mean, he did in fact own the place, but did he have to act like it all the time?

  “It was okay. I met the rest of the team I’ll be working with.”

  “Oh? Who else was there?”

  “Zoe, the manager I told you about from my first night at Provisions. She’s super awesome.”

  Josephine nodded.

  “And then this guy named Hunter who gave off major creeper vibes the entire meeting.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  “He was just so smarmy, like a New Jersey car salesman or something. He was covered in sweat when he got there and his suit barely fit over his beer belly. He gave me this flirty smile when I introduced myself to him, completely ignoring the big fat wedding ring on his left hand.”

  “Oh, gross.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, but then he asked if I wanted to get lunch with him, alone, after the meeting.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?!”

  “I know.”

  “What’d you say?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Dean called him back into the office before I could respond.”

  The customers in front of us finished ordering and we moved up to the front of the line.

  “Hi, is this your first time to Uptown Crêperie?” asked the chipper cashier behind the cash register.

  “Yes, but I’m not new to crêpes. I’d like a smores crêpe, a truffled caprese crêpe, and one of the apple cinnamon crème brûlée crêpes.”

  “Lily!” Josephine laughed. “That’s enough food for an army.”

  “What? I’m going to review it all for my blog. I swear!”

  “Uh huh. I use that same logic when I want to splurge on a Rebecca Minkoff purse.”

  I swiped my card and signed the receipt, already excited to take photos of the crêpes for my next blog post. I hadn’t done a review of a crêperie in New York yet.

  “Are we at least going to share those?” Josephine asked.

  I glanced over at her with narrowed eyes. “Jo, I love you. I really do, but if you touch my crêpes, I’m gonna have to stab you with my fork.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lily

  I consider myself a decent person. I never steal candy from the bulk bins at the grocery store, I always bus my t
able at restaurants where it’s clear that you’re meant to, and I always let old people have my seat on the subway when it’s full. (Okay maybe I just got elbowed out of my seat by a gruff grandma in the Bronx, but I’m counting it.) All of those good deeds didn’t help the fact that I was about to become a murderer.

  It was inevitable.

  “You’re not listening to me!” I said. “Here are all the reasons that the restaurant should have a Spanish name.”

  Dean wiped his hand down his face, clearly tired of arguing with me. We were back in his office, all five team members crammed into a space that seemed to be getting smaller by the minute.

  Julian fidgeted in his seat, angling his body ever so slightly away from where I stood. Zoe leaned against the doorframe, watching Dean and I go at it with a little smile across her lips. Hunter hadn’t spoken in the last fifteen minutes; he was too busy scrolling through his phone. The little trackball on his Blackberry made a ticking sound every time his finger scrolled over it and I was five seconds away from grabbing his phone and throwing it across the room.

  “Lily. Do you know why my restaurants are successful?” Dean asked, leaning forward across his desk.

  I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up in the air. “I would say dumb luck, but I have a feeling it’s probably thanks to Zoe.”

  “Knucks,” said Zoe, holding out her fist for me to pound.

  He ignored my sarcasm. “It’s because I control every single detail, from the menu prices down to the nails they use during construction.”

  I arched a brow. “That style of leadership only works when you’re infallible, and last time I checked, you’re not a god. You have to be able to recognize when other people just know better than you.”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, his brows furrowing in disbelief. Had anyone ever talked to him the way I did? How could they not?

  “No one likes a tyrant! Especially one who is so stuck in his ways that he doesn’t even realize a good idea when it’s right in front of him.”

  He rubbed his hand over his mouth, probably trying to keep the curse words from spilling out. I was being harsh, unprofessional, and rude. Unfortunately, it was the only way I could get a word in edgewise with him. He’d blow right over me if I didn’t speak up.

  “Let’s reiterate the roles really quickly,” Dean said, pointing to me. “You are here to help me with the food, drinks, and ambiance. End of story.” He pointed to himself. “I will handle every other detail of the restaurant, including the name.”

  I crossed my arms, feeling my face flush with anger.

  Sorry Mom.

  You raised a murderer.

  My eyes glanced over his desk for a sharp instrument to stick in his black-hole-of-a-heart, but there was nothing, save for an expensive pen clutched in his fist.

  “You know what I think we need?” Zoe asked, pushing off the doorframe and circling back behind Dean’s desk. Her head barely came up to his shoulders, but he still looked down in fear of what she was about to say. “Some team bonding.”

  Hunter grunted and Julian laughed. I stood in silence, waiting for Dean’s reaction.

  “C’mon,” Zoe said. “Let’s take your boat out this weekend and relax. No talk about the restaurant. Just fun.”

  “Josephine has been bugging me about going back out on the water,” Julian added.

  Before Dean could reject the plan, Zoe turned her gaze on me. “You in, Black?”

  If I said yes, I’d look overly eager.

  If I said no, I’d look like I was the asshole of the group.

  I sighed, picked up my clipboard from the edge of Dean’s desk, and then plopped down in my seat. “Yeah, whatever.”

  She clapped. “Perfect!”

  “Saturday morning?” Julian asked, already pulling out his phone, undoubtedly Snapchatting his lover. Blech.

  Dean offered Julian a curt nod, and just like that, the meeting was adjourned. We’d succeeded in making zero decisions, but I was marginally closer to losing my voice from yelling at Dean. That counted for something, I guess.

  Julian stood to talk something over with Dean and Zoe in the hallway, and I reached down to grab my purse. A shadow loomed over me as I sat back up, and I realized too late that Hunter was practically on top of me as he leaned over my chair. His heavy cologne nearly choked me to death.

  “Oh, wow, that’s close,” I mutter, leaning as far away from him as I could. The guy clearly didn’t know the concept of personal space.

  “Looking forward to seeing you out on the boat this weekend, Lily,” he said, dropping his hand on the back of my chair.

  “Oh, uh yeah, should be fun,” I replied with a curt, pleasant smile.

  “I’m glad we’ll have some time to chat.” He waggled his eyebrow. “Just you and me.”

  Oh my god. How was no one hearing this crap?

  I narrowed my eyes up at him and pointed at where his hand sat on the back of my chair. His thin gold wedding band was two inches from my shoulder. “What kind of ring is that on your finger?” I asked, playing the not-so-subtle game of “fuck off”.

  He laughed.

  “The slippery kind,” he replied with a snakelike hiss.

  I stood so abruptly that he had to flinch back to avoid my head colliding with his face. “You’re disgusting.”

  “Aw, c’mon, can’t you take a little joke?”

  I brushed past him and stepped into the hallway. Dean, Zoe, and Julian stood in silence as I stepped past them. I knew they’d heard the last part of our conversation, but I didn’t bother stopping to correct their assumptions. I headed toward the front of the restaurant and prayed there was a cab waiting for me. I was in a different town, but I was still dealing with the same old crap. Hunter saw blonde hair and tits. He didn’t see me as a colleague.

  “Hey! Jeez. Would you wait up a second?”

  I heard Dean’s voice, shocked that he cared enough to follow me out onto the sidewalk. His hand hit my forearm, inches from my palm, and I froze, surprised by the comfort of his grip.

  “You said the meeting was over,” I said, staring up at him for confirmation.

  “It is.”

  I shrugged, shying away from his touch, but his hand tightened on my arm. “Well, I’m leaving then. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  “What did Hunter just do?” he asked, ignoring my brush off.

  A part of me wanted to cover up Hunter’s attempted indiscretion. I’d dealt with this situation plenty of times before. A male superior came on to you? Did you tempt him in some way? Surely, you lead him on.

  “It wasn’t a big deal. Hunter came on to me and I told him off. End of story.”

  He nodded and rolled his lips together as he mulled over how to proceed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  I swallowed. He sounded like a mobster. Did he have brass knuckles hidden in a pocket of that designer suit? “What are you going to do?”

  The edge of his lip curled up as he met my eyes. “Nothing that will leave scars.”

  My eyes widened. Oh shit.

  “Lily, I’m joking. I’m not going to beat Hunter up because he hit on you.”

  I smirked. “Maybe just a little kick in the balls? Or a karate chop? Nothing major.”

  He rolled his eyes and dropped his hand. My arm felt instantly lighter, like it might float away without the weight of his hand holding it down.

  “See you Saturday,” he said, taking a step back. His eyes scanned over my face and across my cheeks. “Don’t forget sunscreen.”

  I tilted my head and smiled. “Y’know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were being nice to me right now.”

  He smiled and then bent his head toward the ground to hide it. By the time he glanced back up, the smile was gone, but there was still humor in his eyes.

  “Yeah? Well don’t get used to it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dean

  “Sir, everything is set. As soon as your guests arrive, I’m prepared to head out.”r />
  I nodded at the captain. “Sounds good.”

  “How long would you like to be out on the water?”

  I thought of Lily, of how volatile she made me feel. “Let’s make this a short trip. Just a few hours.”

  The less time I had to spend in close proximity to her, the better. Every minute I spent arguing with her probably shaved off another year of my life.

  He nodded and then retreated back to the helm. I reclined on the sundeck’s couch and took the opportunity to check my email one final time before everyone arrived.

  I had the usual crap clogging up my inbox, but third from the top, there was an email I’d been waiting to receive for the last few days. I scrolled past the introduction and smiled.

  Mr. Harper, I’d be happy to meet with you during LV Restaurant Week. I have available appointments throughout the event, so once you and your team know your schedule, get in touch with me and we can work something out. In the meantime, I’ll start preparing dishes.

  Las Vegas Restaurant Week was an annual event. For one week a year, every restaurateur worth their shit dropped everything and headed to Sin City. LVRW was where deals were brokered, chefs were hired, drinks were thought up, and new fads were invented. I’d been on the fence about attending again, but that email changed everything.

  Antonio Acosta was the executive chef at the most famous tapas restaurant in Los Angeles. For a pretty penny, he was willing to advise me on the menu for the new restaurant and it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

  I headed down into the en suite cabin to swap my phone out for my laptop. I needed to book last minute flights for my team and then try and scramble to find a hotel room.

  “What a shocker!” Zoe said, stepping through the threshold wearing a black one-piece and jean shorts. She had a towel clutched under her arm and a bag slung over her shoulder. “You’re out on your yacht and you’re working.”

  I smiled and turned my computer around so she could see the airline’s website. “No choice. We’re going to LVRW.”