“Were you with him?” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Who?”
“Don’t be coy. The hottie from the diner.” She smiles.
“Oh god,” I groan, not awake enough to have this conversation.
“That’s all you’ve got for me? I’m going to need more details than that.”
“If that’s the case, you’re going to have to wait until I make coffee. You want a cup?” I ask, my back already turned to her as I make my way into my tiny kitchen—if you could even call it a kitchen. It’s a counter, a burner, and a fridge.
“That would be great.”
As the coffee brews, a sweet and robust fragrance fills the air, and my mouth waters.
“So . . .” she calls through the thin walls as if I’m going to get into it right now.
“Give me a second,” I yell back, waiting for the coffee to finish.
Grabbing two mugs, I fill them quickly and head back, plopping down on the chair kitty-corner from Harper.
“It’s not like that.”
“Why not? He’s sexy as hell, Bailey. And he seemed . . . normal.”
I glare at her insinuation that he’s not like all the others.
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not his type. He likes overly fake, blonde bombshells.” I roll my eyes.
“Really?” She pouts. “I really hoped you were hitting that.”
“Harper!” I can feel my cheeks warming from her words. “Gross.”
She sits quietly. Too silent for her. When she finally speaks, I want to roll my eyes. “You know it wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to date, right?” Her voice is soft as she pulls me out of my daydream. “I mean, if you’re in the right headspace. What can it hurt?”
I glance up at her and notice her eyebrows creased as she takes me in. Strange. The way she says it almost sounds as though she’s inquiring if I’m in the right headspace.
“He’s not your sponsor, is he?”
And there it is. If he’s not my boyfriend, he must be a recovering addict because that’s the only type of person I attract.
“Come on, Harper, I learned my lesson. Things have changed. Can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to say that. Of course, I know you’re different. You wouldn’t be in this city if you weren’t.”
I flick on the small television, needing something besides the silence we’ve settled into. A local news station featuring a brunette with high cheekbones is standing outside of Silver. I turn the volume up, curious as to what’s going on.
“Local club owner, Drew Lawson, is apparently shopping for commercial real estate.” A photo of Drew in a tux with a stunning blonde on his arm appears in the top right corner of the screen.
His piercing eyes seem to stare right through me. “No word on what he’s planning on opening, but I’m sure it will be nothing short of spectacular. This is Ava Porter. Back to you, John.” The screen goes back to a middle-aged man with a widow’s peak. I turn it off and whistle.
“Gross. Don’t fawn over that man,” Harper jeers.
“Why not? He’s pretty good-looking,” I retort, wondering where her hostility for Drew comes from.
“Because I’ve known about Drew for a while, and I can tell you, you do not want to crush on the likes of him. He’s a womanizer of epic proportions.” Each word is said slow and pointedly, but her words have me curious. What has Drew Lawson done to get on my sister’s do-not-ever-touch-him-or-else side?
“How do you know Drew?” I ask curiously.
“Ugh, his family is friends with Cal’s. Drew runs in the same circles, but they aren’t close. Acquaintances really.” She shrugs.
I find it interesting that she’s so adamant he’s no good. The guy is hot. I’m sure he can pull tons of women, and he sounds just like Cal was pre-Harper. Besides, Drew Lawson is so far out of my league, it’s sad. She has nothing to worry about, aside from the fact that I work for him.
“Listen, I know I screwed up in the past—a few times. But I’m not looking for another asshole, even if he’s a Greek god.” Shit. Did I just say that out loud?
“Bailey!”
Yep, she heard me. I’m going to need to work on putting a filter on my mouth. “Seriously, Harper, I like it in New York. I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going to go screw things up. Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, and with that, my past and all talk of Drew is dropped.
The day flies by super-fast. Harper stayed to chat for another hour or so before I headed over to the laundromat down the block to do a load. My closet was slim pickings for an outfit to wear tonight to work, so I was forced to wash my clothes. I had considered buying a new outfit in my laziness, but who was I kidding? I could barely afford food, let alone new threads.