I glanced over his legs. They were toned, long, and tan with the same dark hair that was sprinkled on his chest.
Just friends.
“Josephine?”
“Oh!” I glanced away. “Yeah. I thought it was only fair that I wake up my friend in Texas too.”
He reached my spot on the sidewalk and I stood up to greet him.
“Coffee?” I asked, hopeful.
He nodded and handed it over. The cup was warm against my palm and the steam rising up around it smelled divine.
“The first shop I went to didn’t have almond milk,” he said. The morning light played up his hazel eyes and for a moment I was caught in his allure. The dark brows, the dark hair, the tan skin. A weaker woman would have thrown herself at him a long time ago. Me? I had goals. Goals that didn’t include seducing Julian Lefray, my one and only friend in New York City.
“That’s okay, I drink it black sometimes,” I said before taking my first sip. I’d prepared myself for the bitter taste, but was surprised to find the coffee slightly sweetened.
“I found it somewhere else,” he clarified with a little smile.
Warmth spread from my belly, up around my chest, holding my heart in a tight grip. He’d gone to that much trouble for me?
“Is this the building?” he asked, peering over my shoulder.
“Yes! Just look at it!” I exclaimed, waving my hand toward the storefront.
He stepped closer, peering through the glass and studying the square footage just as I’d done a few minutes earlier. The tree-lined sidewalk was already getting busier as the rest of the city woke up. People were trickling out of their apartments, heading out for breakfast. I knew that by midmorning, it’d be a lively street. Perfect for a clothing shop.
“The location is great,” Julian nodded, pulling his face away from the glass.
I nodded.
“We could build out the front of the space for Lorena’s shop and then keep that entire back section open for offices,” I said, pointing toward the rear. Without the lights on, it was hard to see into the distance, but it seemed like there was plenty of space.
“I like it a lot,” he affirmed. “How’d you find it?”
“I was on a morning jog and I happened to wander by.”
Julian arched a brow. “You’ve never mentioned you’re a runner.”
I smiled. “‘Runner’ is a strong word. On occasion, I’ve been known to move slightly faster than a walking pace, but it’s not very often.”
The side of his mouth hitched up. “I usually run over at Central Park. Have you ever done that trail?”
I laughed. “You’d have to carry me for most of that.”
He smiled. “Nah, you could do it. We could walk for parts of it. Think of it as a team building exercise.”
Was I willing to run just to spend time with him? I chose not to read into that fact.
He nodded toward the subway entrance a few yards away. “C’mon, let’s head over there before breakfast.”
My face fell. “What about the property?”
“I’ll have my agent set up a time to view it,” he promised, walking backward toward the subway entrance.
When I didn’t immediately follow him, he paused.
“That’s it? I feel bad for waking you up,” I said, moving to join him. “Your response wasn’t as awesome as I’d hoped it would be.”
“I like it,” he said with a reassuring nod.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
He laughed and came to stand in front of me. “Jo, I love it. Thanks for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn to see it. I don’t know what I would do without an employee as dedicated as you are.”
The bastard was patronizing me.
“I hate you,” I said, hitting his shoulder playfully.
“No.” He smiled, pretending to massage where I’d just hit him. “You can’t hate your only friend in New York.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Pfft. I have way more friends than you.”
He arched a brow; he clearly didn’t believe me.
“Like Dean,” I said with a triumphant smile. I’d only met him last night but that didn’t mean we weren’t friends.
He rolled his eyes. “Right.”
“He’s pretty cute.”
I’d said it as a joke—partly—but Julian obviously didn’t take it as one. His laughter died and his gaze sliced over to me.
“Dean has a new girlfriend every week. He’s not the settling down type.”
I held up my free hand. “Whoa. It’s not like I want to date him.”
He didn’t seem convinced, so I pushed further. “Besides, I don’t date. Ever.”
There. Julian had the truth and he could do with it what he wanted.
I brushed past him and headed toward the subway entrance, ignoring my flaming cheeks. He jogged to catch up with me and I could feel him studying me, clearly struggling with what he wanted to say. We walked down the stairs in silence. I swiped my subway card, pushed through the metal barrier, and headed toward the blue line track, all the while keenly aware of Julian’s presence beside me.
“Why not?” he finally asked as we took our seats beside each other on the subway.
I tilted my head. “Why not what?”
“Why don’t you date?”
His voice was gentle, and where I’d assumed there would be hints of judgment, there was only curiosity.
“Do I need an excuse?” I laughed.
He chuckled. “You make it sound like it’s worse than pulling teeth.”
For me, it was.
“The last time I went on a good date, I was in the seventh grade and Hunter Buchanan invited me over to play Mario Kart with him for three hours.”
Julian started to crack up. “You’re kidding me.”
I shrugged. “I wish.”
“Are you a virgin?” he asked. Just like that. Point blank.
I gaped so wide my jaw practically came unhinged. Jesus. Good thing the subway car was fairly empty.
“No!” I said, glaring over at him. “I’m not a freaking virgin. How lame do you think I am?”
He held up his hands in defense.
“What? You made it seem like that was the case. I thought I was going to have to do you a favor.”
My cheeks were on fire. I knew I was blushing so hard that the astronauts on the space station would be able to detect it.
“By deflowering me?! Oh my god, Julian, you’re verging on asshole territory right now.”
“No! No,” he said, reaching for my arm so that I couldn’t move away from him. “That’s not what I meant.”
He tried to catch my eye, but I held my gaze steady at the top of the subway car. There was an ad about an apartment finder service stretched across the edge of the ceiling; I focused on it like my life depended on it. I knew he was kidding, but the whole conversation was beyond embarrassing. My self-confidence was lying in a pool on the ground, and my ego was mixed in there with it. I didn’t need Julian to make it any worse.
“Jo—”
I shook my head. This conversation needed to end. Now.
“You know what? None of this even matters anyway because I have a date.” I forced myself to look at him as I continued, “Tomorrow night in fact.”
His grip loosened on my arm until he let it slide completely away.
“Really?”
His brows were drawn together, but I did nothing to relieve his confusion.
“Really.” I nodded as an elaborate lie started to play out in my mind. “A friend of Dean’s asked me to get drinks during the restaurant opening and I told him I’d think about it.”
Hmm, that seems fairly logical. Even if I’d been with Julian most of last night, that didn’t mean I hadn’t had a few moments to myself, a few minutes for someone to hypothetically hit on me.
“And you’re going to go?” he asked with a sharp tone.
I nodded, smug and annoyed by his line of questioning. “Yup. I thi
nk it’s time to finally push myself out of my comfort zone, make some other friends in New York besides you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Josephine
Did I have a date the following night? Sure.
Was it with a real person? Technically, no. (Unless ghosts of relationships past count.)
Would I be dressing to the nines, going to a bar, and sitting alone? Yes.
Why? Because stupid Julian with his stupid good looks could suck it.
In truth, I hadn’t thought much about my love life in the recent years. When you go to an all-girls high school and then enroll in a fashion program for college, your odds of running into cute, eligible, interested men are just about zero. I’d dated off and on in Texas, but there’d been nothing serious and no one worth remembering.
I’d secretly hoped that moving to New York would change that, but it’s not like I’d had much time to spread my wings (or my legs). So far I’d spent nearly all of my time working with Julian, hanging out with Julian, or texting Julian, which is why I was taking a night off from him, or at least a few hours.
I’d looked up good bars around my apartment. I knew that I could sign up for a dating site or download one of those “hookup” apps, but I wanted to do it the old school way. Surely there was still hope for people like me.
I’d decided to go to an intimate cocktail bar near my tenth-floor walkup. (Yet another reason I didn’t need to exercise. Ten sets of stairs is the work of the devil.) It was called The Merchant and it catered to a young professional crowd. At 5:45 PM, it was already packed and I had to slither past groups of friends to find the bar toward the back.
My skin crawled with nerves as I made my way through the crowd. It seemed like everyone else was sitting with at least one other person, but I was hoping I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb if I sat at the bar by myself. The music was loud and the conversations were flowing around me. I kept waiting for someone to notice me, but no one even batted an eyelash as I pulled back one of the bar stools and reached for the drink menu. In some ways it felt like New York was a city for the lonely.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked with a heavy New York tongue. His blond hair was buzzed short and he had a five o’clock shadow that was working wonders for his otherwise baby face. I smiled and then motioned to the drink menu.
“Could I have just one more second?”
He nodded. “Take your time.”
There were all sorts of fancy cocktails with ingredients I couldn’t pronounce, but I didn’t have much to spend, not if I wanted to stay within the strict budget I’d set for myself.
“Do you have any sauvignon blanc?” I asked the bartender with a friendly smile. A glass of wine couldn’t cost that much.
He furrowed his brow. “Let me check.”
He walked to the other end of the bar and I turned to inspect the patrons around me. I was smack-dab between two couples. The two on my left had thick foreign accents and were using boisterous hand gestures as they chatted loudly. They didn’t even notice me watching them as they continued their conversation at lightning speed. Even if I’d understood what they were saying I couldn’t imagine keeping up.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding a glass of wine across the bar.
I met his eye and smiled.
“Although between you and me, you shouldn’t come to a bar and order wine,” he said with a flirty smile.
“Oh really?” I asked, quirking a brow as I took a sip. “Tastes pretty good to me.”
He laughed and wiped down the section of the bar in front of me. Maybe he was actually cleaning, or maybe he was stalling so we could keep talking.
“It’s a waste of my talents as a mixologist. Unless I’m using the shaker, I’m basically a glorified bottle opener,” he said with a wink.
I cracked up. “Oh really? Well, what’s your favorite drink to make?”
He dropped his right brow as if I’d just issued a challenge.
“How about I make it for you?” he asked, already reaching for the shaker and a bottle of Tito’s Vodka. “On the house, of course.”
I smiled. We were flirting. This was flirting 101 and I was doing a fairly good job of it. At least I think I am.
I opened my mouth to reply just as someone spoke up behind me.
“Owen, we’ll never turn a profit if you offer every beautiful woman a drink.”
I thought I recognized the voice. Dark, deep, and confident. I spun around in my chair and grinned when I saw Dean standing there, hands tucked into his tailored suit pockets and a wicked smile lighting up his devilish glare.
“Dean! What are you doing here?” I asked, leaning forward and accepting his kiss on the cheek. His five o’clock shadow rubbed against my cheek as he pulled away and I realized that I hadn’t been 100% honest with Julian earlier. Dean was definitely a catch, and were he not Julian’s friend, I’d have a really hard time staying away from him.
“This is actually my bar,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly. “What brings you here? Out with friends?”
Dean waved to Owen, the bartender, as the hostess greeted the couple beside me. Their table was ready in the lounge, which meant Dean could nab the open seat beside me before someone else swooped in. He slid into the vacant seat and turned his full attention my way.
“No. I’m here by myself.” I held up my glass. “A girl needs a glass of wine every now and then.”
He laughed.
“This is actually the first bar I’ve been to in New York,” I admitted.
His eyes widened and he held his hand to his heart as if he were wounded. “Then you have not had the proper New York City tour guide.”
Is that true? I thought back to the day before, when Julian and I had explored Central Park and then eaten breakfast on the steps of the Natural History Museum. After we were sufficiently stuffed, I’d forced him to help me grocery shop and we’d stolen every free sample inside the Whole Foods bakery department until a customer service employee had politely asked us to purchase something or leave. All in all, it was an awesome day.
“Is Julian keeping you at work until all hours of the night? Is that why you haven’t gone out much?”
I shook my head. “No. Not at all. I’m just a homebody by nature. This city can be a little intimidating.”
He turned to the bar as Owen passed him a drink. I smiled at him, but the flirty man who’d been there a few moments ago was gone, probably too intimidated by the fact that his boss was watching now.
“To friends,” Dean said, holding his glass up toward mine.
“To friends,” I repeated, clinking my glass with his.
“Now tell me how you like working for Julian.”
Julian, Julian, Julian. Even when I wasn’t with him, he seemed to find a way to become the topic of my thoughts and my conversations.
“It’s fun,” I answered. I knew I was being vague, but I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to divulge.
“Have you two found a workplace yet?”
I shook my head.
“So do you just work from coffee shops or something?”
I glanced down at my drink. “Uh, no. We usually just work from his hotel room.”
He grunted in disbelief. “Guess that explains your relationship with him.”
“Our relationship?”
He nodded.
“It’s strictly professional between us,” I began to clarify before backpedaling. “Well, I mean we hang out and talk outside of work, but it’s strictly…”
“Professional?” Dean asked, the dark look in his eyes challenging me to be honest.
I nodded.
“Well since you two are so friendly, you should come out with us on the boat this weekend.”
My brows rose in surprise. “You have a boat?”
He nodded and rolled his glass between his hands. “It’ll be the first warm weekend of the year and a few of my friends and I are going to celebrate out on the water.”
H
e must have sensed my excitement.
“I’m sure Julian could swing by and pick you up on his way to the marina.”
Why did it feel like Dean was trying to play matchmaker?
Would Julian want me to tag along on the boat or would I cramp his style? I was sure Dean would have girls on the boat, girls that Julian would want to talk to.
“Earth to Josephine? How about it?” he asked, offering me a persuasive smile.
Well, when you put it that way…
“I’m in,” I smiled.
Chapter Fourteen
Julian
I fell back against the grass and splayed my legs out in front of me, shaking them out like noodles. My legs protested the stretch, but I pushed through the initial shock, knowing they’d thank me later. Dean and I had just finished up a twenty-five mile loop on our bikes, ending at a small park in Brooklyn. The sun was shining overhead and I could hear kids playing on the jungle gym a few yards away. I tossed my bike helmet beside me and leaned back against my palms so I could start to catch my breath.
“I had quite an interesting conversation with Josephine last night,” Dean said, tossing a water bottle at me. I thought fast to catch it before it collided with my chest and then pulled the cap off with one twist. It was ice cold and I guzzled nearly half of it down with one gulp.
After I swallowed, I finally registered what Dean had just told me.
“Conversation with who?” I asked, squinting to make him out in the glare of the sun.
“Josephine,” he answered simply.
“When was that?” I asked, annoyed by my inability to sound casual. Sure, my lungs were still burning from the bike ride, but the thought of Dean and Josephine together burned far worse.
Dean glared over at me and I knew he’d caught my strained voice too.
“Last night. She was at my bar,” he said with a shrug. The message was clear: don’t kill the messenger, asshole.