I nodded. Wise words for a man wearing a shirt that read “The Blue Bunny Strip Club XXX.”
“I’m Lily,” I offered, sticking out my hand.
He focused his gaze on my palm, seemingly confused about what to do with it. I wrapped my fingers back into a fist and let my hand fall.
“Nelson,” he said with a nod.
“Ever taken the subway?” I asked before glancing back out at the crowd of people.
He spoke with such a thick accent that the words seemed to blend together. “What kind of question is that? You think I hang out down here for the scenery?”
All right then. “I’ll buy you a burger if you help me figure it out.”
“With cheese?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
And that’s how Nelson the vagabond became my first friend in New York City. Hello, full social calendar.
Chapter Nine
Lily
After a full day of job-hunting, I turned the corner onto 20th Street and immediately picked up the tantalizing scents filling the air around Gramercy Tavern. A hint of roasted chicken was enough to send my stomach growling for the one-thousandth time that evening. Somewhere between breakfast and dinner, I was supposed to stop and feed myself, but I hadn’t had the time. In a moment of weakness, I’d stopped for a hot pretzel from a street vendor, but in another moment of even greater weakness, I’d tripped and dropped the pretzel into a puddle. FML.
I pulled open the heavy wood door and nearly fainted on the spot as the smell of garlic mashed potatoes hit me in full force. Be still my heart. There were a dozen people waiting to be seated, all pressed together in the foyer. I pushed through them to find the hostess stand and smiled at the petite blonde ready to jot my name down on her clipboard.
“Hi, how many in your party?”
“Oh, I think there should be a reservation under Mr. Lefr—”
“Lily.”
My back stiffened at the sound of my name uttered by a familiar deep voice. Please be Julian. Please be Julian. I turned on my heel and came face to face with Dean Harper leaning against the wall of the foyer with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black slacks. His brows were furrowed, his bow lips were set in a thin line and his brown eyes were emitting disdain on levels that should have been reserved for truly heinous criminals. Or y’know that annoying person who tries to cut in front of you in the frozen yogurt line. I’m getting toppings, whore. This isn’t a free-for-all.
I took a step toward him and then gawked as the redhead beside him leaned in to kiss his cheek. She was nearly his height, which made her a few inches taller than me, but it was her hair that held my attention. The strands were made of pure fire, the same shade she’d used to coat her lips. Her dress was tight and black, wrapped around her body in a way that made me tug at the simple white blouse I’d put on that morning. I’d run around the city in it for the last twelve hours, so chances were I was sporting approximately two to four mystery stains and enough wrinkles to make it seem as if I’d just pulled it out of the hamper.
“We’re waiting on Julian and Jo,” Dean said, foregoing any sort of greeting. I glanced back to him and caught the tail end of his perusal of my outfit. I arched a brow as our eyes locked.
“You brought a friend,” I said with a polite smile aimed at the woman to his left.
“A date,” he corrected.
Of course.
“Ah, well, I didn’t realize we were bringing dates.”
He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m sorry, I’ll have Jo clear that with you next time. Just so we’re all on the same page.” He spoke with unaffected indifference.
I opened my mouth to reply when his date stepped forward and cut the tension brewing between us. “I’m Casey,” she said, holding out her hand as a peace offering. Her smile was genuine, albeit a little desperate. I’m sure she felt the awkwardness as much as I did.
“Lily,” I said, accepting her handshake and cursing the heavens. How does someone get hands that soft?
“Nice to meet you, Lily,” she beamed.
She was beautiful and polite; what the hell was she doing with Dean?
“How did you two meet?” I asked, focusing my attention on Casey.
She smiled and reached for his hand so she could twine their fingers together. “It’s actually a funny story. I was at a coffee shop, y’know that cool place up on 43rd?” She glanced at Dean. “What’s it called?” Before he could reply, she continued the ‘funny’ story with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, I was ordering a bagel, but I wanted a blueberry one and they were all out of blueberry so then…”
My attention span had been shot somewhere between her first and second sentence, but I pretended to follow along. I didn’t need to know her life story. I just wanted to know if he’d somehow drugged her to get her to go out with him.
“And so then anyway, Dean comes up and asks, ‘Is this your coffee’?”