Page 10 of The Final Draft

“Um, I was looking for Harper Cartwright?” I lean back and look over at the apartment number, checking to make sure I’m in the correct place. I am.

“CJ, it’s for you,” he yells into the apartment. This must be the right place. She’s living with Zac Burns? CJ? Is she more than his dog walker? So many questions race through my mind as I attempt to piece the puzzle of Harper Cartwright together.

He looks me up and down, doing the bro assessment. We’re both about the same height, and while he has a little more muscle than me, I’m no slouch. He probably knows who I am, but I’ll be polite.

I extend my hand. “I’m Julian Decker. It’s nice to meet you, Zac. The Havoc look like they’ve got a good team this season.”

He hesitates for a split second before he shakes my hand. His grip is a little harder than necessary. “I know who you are.” Yeah, I thought so.

“Be right there.” Her voice floats from down the hall. This place is nice, great location, but like many New York apartments, it’s not huge. How many bedrooms are in this unit? I’m hoping for at least two.

“Come on in,” he says. I hear the click-click of nails on the hardwood floor and am greeted by a light brown, floppy-eared dog whose body is extremely disproportionate. His stubby legs come to a stop, his long tail wagging furiously, the rest of his cylindrical body swaying back and forth. He’s pretty cute.

“You must be Noodle.” I squat down to pet him, and his entire body shakes, practically convulsing. I look up at Zac with concern. “Is he supposed to do that?”

“Yeah, he’s in protection mode.” I smirk as Noodle licks my loafers. Apparently, this hockey player is in protection mode too. Why, I’m not sure. I’m harmless. Mostly.

Harper rounds the corner from the hall and comes to a stop. She’s a vision with her hair down in soft waves over her shoulders, looking more blonde than I recall. Her hair was up when I saw her yesterday, and it was sexy. But now. Wow! Breathtaking.

The jeans she’s wearing hug her curves in all the right places, and the cropped burgundy sweater hints at the soft skin peeking out from below. She looks like a fashionable New Yorker ready for fall.

My eyes scan her from head to toe, and I appreciate what I see. As I check her out, there’s a low grumble coming from Zac. I do my best to keep my facial expression neutral since I’m unsure about this living situation.

“You look great.” Wordsmith of the year right here, ladies and gentlemen. “Are those shoes comfortable? I thought we might walk today.” She’s wearing those boots girls wear with a little heel. Harper is probably five-ten or so, and I love the extra few inches bringing her closer to my six-three frame. Women often pick fashion over function, but today, I prefer function for Harper’s footwear. I figured she'd enjoy a stroll through the city, taking in the sights, sounds, and energy of the streets. Unfortunately, I don’t get to do it enough because I’m always in a hurry. My driver is on standby if we need to change our plans and skip the walk.

“Yeah, I’m good as long as we aren’t running a marathon.” I appreciate her sensible fashion sense. It’s probably her practical Minnesota values shining through. Her smile has a tender, heartwarming effect on me, and I’m already willing to give her anything she wants. This girl. Damn.

“What are you guys doing?” Zac asks. His scowl betrays his attempt at acting cool. I almost forgot he was here, all of my attention focused on Harper.

“Going to lunch,” she answers quickly. “Tell Harvard to keep icing his eye. He’s too cute to look so broken.”

He gives her a side hug and kisses her temple. Shit. She’s more than a dog walker to him and he’s obviously marking his territory.

She grabs her crossbody bag and slings it over her shoulder, the strap falling between her breasts. I’ve never been more jealous of an accessory in my life. She gives Noodle a head scratch and motions to the door. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, gorgeous.” Sorry Zac. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

HARPER

He called me gorgeous. I stutter a little, processing that term of affection. Or does he say that to all the girls? He’s a first-class charmer, after all. And what in the hell was that hug and kiss from Zac? There is absolutely nothing between us. Was he claiming me? Hockey players are a strange breed. You’d think I’d understand them by now, but then they do things like kiss my head, and I’m back at square one.

Deep breath, Harper. You’ve got this. It’s only lunch with one of America’s hottest bachelors. Your friend’s brother. Yeah, that’s it. He’s simply being kind to a new girl in town. His sister’s friend. That’s what this is.

We make our way downstairs, and I practically get trampled exiting the building’s front door. Julian pulls me back by the elbow and I’m tucked into his side. I keep forgetting to check before I merge into this busy sidewalk of fast-paced New Yorkers. The pace is certainly different from suburban Atlanta.

“Stick close to me, gorgeous. I can’t lose you before we get to lunch.” He laces his fingers in mine and holds my arm close to his. I’m captivated by his panty-melting smile and I forget to breathe again.

“You okay?” Concern fills his expression as he looks at me. We stop and the pedestrians go around us like he’s a boulder in the middle of the river, the water parting at his will. That’s the thing with guys like Julian. The water bends for them.

I shake my head, clearing all the negative and confusing thoughts. I run through a few of the mantras my therapist and Lawson make me recite when I have thoughts of self-doubt.Enjoy the day. Live in the moment. You are a woman of worth.

“Yeah, I’m good. Still getting used to the New York pace.” I smile up at him, and his cool blue eyes light up with amusement. As he leads me down the sidewalk, he matches my shorter stride, adjusting to my slower pace. For reasons I can’t explain, I get butterflies.

“How long have you been in New York?” His tone is light, friendly. Inquisitive even.

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