Page 23 of One Night in Paris
“I’m so sorry, guys,” I began. “We’re short-staffed right now, and things are a little backed up.” They didn’t look satisfied, but they grudgingly accepted my explanation, stopping their belly-aching. “What can I get you guys?”
I took their order and then rushed off to see what the girls wanted to eat.
Hustling back and forth, I tried to keep up with all of the orders, but I couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed. The diner was packed all night, and it seemed like everyone was in a bad mood. Customers were snapping at me, and Dotty was constantly barking orders, not giving me a moment to catch my breath.
I was tired, stressed, and underpaid. I felt like I was working myself to the bone, and it wasn’t fair. But I didn’t have the luxury of complaining. I needed this job, and I couldn’t afford to lose it. So I kept my head down and kept working, hoping that one day things would get better.
What were the chances that someday I’d find a job where I could support my mom and not have to worry about smelling like a goat’s ass? Slim to none—but a girl could dream.
13
LOGAN
All day, I had trouble concentrating. My work suffered because of it, and without an assistant, now that Michelle had gone off to other things, I had no one to pick up the slack for me. I was going to have to figure out a way to get thoughts of Harper to stop monopolizing my every moment, or else I wasn’t going to be able to maintain my status as the most successful architect in town.
In my apartment, as I prepared to meet Harper at the restaurant, my heart raced in my chest. She’d sounded so odd on the phone when she’d called to schedule the date. It left me wondering if everything was all right. When I’d run into her at the restaurant, I’d done my best to make it clear I didn’t care that she’d made up the story about being a lingerie designer. Sure, I’d been surprised to see her, but I was honestly just happy to get a chance to see her again.
Was Harper mad at me for pretending to be a student? If anything, most women who found out I’d been lying to them about being a CEO were ecstatic to find out the truth. But then, Harper wasn’t like other women. I already knew her well enough to establish that fact.
Straightening my tie, I checked the mirror and smoothed back my hair. Harper was a waitress. I wondered why. Had she gone to school? Finished? With the economy the way that it was, some people with certain degrees were just happy to take any job they could find. Perhaps Harper fit into that category.
Satisfied that I looked nice in my black Armani suit with my dark blue tie, I buttoned my cufflinks and headed out of my penthouse apartment to the garage. I’d take my Lamborghini tonight, just in case Harper wanted to go somewhere after dinner. I had no expectations for sex on our second date. After all, our meeting in Paris had been a lot more about fun and blowing off steam than this was. No, tonight, I was actually interested in getting to know Harper. But I did want to impress her. Hence, the car.
Walking out into the hall, I waited patiently for the elevator. It never took long. When it chimed, and I stepped on alone, I took some deep breaths. This girl still had me all kinds of flustered. I needed to get my head on straight.
I definitely wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. At least, I hadn’t been a few days ago, before I ran into Harper. Despite the newspaper declaring I was the most eligible bachelor in town, I hadn’t been looking to date anyone, not long-term anyway. But then I’d seen Harper again, and everything inside of me insisted I give her my number. We’d had an amazing time with one another, not just in bed, but talking and dancing, and I wanted that feeling again. I wanted to get to know her better. For some reason, there just seemed to be something there with her, something special.
In the garage, I made my way to my car, using the clicker to unlock the doors before I arrived. Sliding inside, I took a deep breath. This was happening.
The streets of New York just had to be particularly congested as I headed to the restaurant, the honking horns and bustlingpedestrians adding to my anxiety. Traffic was thick, each lane moving at a snail’s pace. Checking the clock, I saw that I had about twenty minutes before the reservation. Letting out a sigh, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the line of cars stretching out behind me, too. This was going to be a long drive.
Finally, the restaurant appeared up ahead on my right. Using my signal, I switched lanes and exited. Pulling up to the curb, I shifted into park as a young valet greeted me, rushing over to open my door.
“Welcome to Marcell’s, sir. Would you like me to park your car for you?” he asked, eyeing my sports car with appreciation.
“Yes, please.” I handed over my keys, not wanting to risk being late for my date. Trying to find a parking spot in this crowded city was not worth the stress.
Making my way inside the elegant restaurant, I scanned the crowded room for Harper. The place was packed with people dressed in their finest suits and gowns, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement. Soft, romantic music played in the background, giving the entire restaurant a tranquil, intimate feel. It was no wonder Harper had picked this place.
Not seeing Harper anywhere, I approached the hostess stand. The hostess, dressed in a sleek black dress with perfectly coiffed hair, asked politely, “Reservation, sir?”
“Yes. Logan Winters.” I smiled at her, but my nerves still had me on edge.
“Of course!” It was evident then that the woman recognized me. “Right this way.”
She led me to a cozy table in the corner. A white linen tablecloth covered the table, which was decorated with a flameless candle and a vase with one red rose. Pulling out one of the plush velvet chairs, I sat down, thanked her, and then waited, checking my watch every few minutes.
Harper wasn’t here. Even at 7:05, she still hadn’t arrived. Sighing, I considered calling the number back. Was it possible this was all some sort of a joke? That voice on the phone didn’t even sound like her, after all.
Just as I was about to give up hope, I saw a beautiful brunette come flying through the door. She was wearing the same gown she’d had on that night in Paris. Instantly, my face lit up. I couldn’t help it. She was gorgeous.
Obviously, she was also confused. Speaking to the hostess, I could read her body language. Harper’s face fell, and she started to turn to leave.
Standing, I waved to catch her attention. Harper tipped her head to the side and stared at me, the confusion not waning, before she told the hostess something, pointed at me, and began to walk over. The hostess looked in my direction to make sure it was okay, and I gave her a wave as well.
“Logan, what are you doing here?” she asked as she reached the table, her head still cocked to the side.
“Uhm, I thought we had a dinner date,” I replied, now feeling equally confused. “You called me yesterday and asked me to meet you here at seven. Don’t you remember?”