The Allure of Dean Harper (The Allure #2)(4)

We circled around the perimeter of the courtyard and then Zoe led me into a back hallway toward a door that read “Employees only.”

We stepped through the door and the restaurant’s quiet music was replaced with silence. Our shoes echoed through the hall and I reached out to stop her so I could plead my case.

“Honestly, you don’t have to worry about my intentions with this job.” She turned to face me. “I’m here because I need a job in New York. I’d prefer bartending to serving, but I’m flexible. I have a culinary degree and I’ve completed bartending school. I’ve worked just about every server job imaginable, so if there’s anyone qualified to work here, it’s me.”

She angled her head and studied me.

“Sounds like you could be doing something a little more impressive than waiting tables.”

I shrugged. She wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already considered myself.

“I want to work in the restaurant industry, but until I find my niche, I just need to get my bills paid.”

“What about managing?”

I grimaced. “No offense, but it’s not my cup of tea.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. Usually I have to get Dean to sign off on all new hires, but he’s out of town and I need you at the bar tonight.”

My back straightened at the mention of his name. He was the whole reason I’d applied at Provisions in the first place.

“My best friend is actually dating Dean’s friend, Julian. That’s how I knew you were hiring.”

Zoe nodded. “Is that so? So you’ve met Dean before?”

I swallowed. Would it be a deal breaker if I hadn’t?

“No, but I’ve been told we’ll get along just fine.”

My throat tightened over the lie. When my best friend Josephine had first told me about Dean and his restaurants, her exact words were something like “you and Dean will get along like oil and water”, but what did it matter? He would be my boss’s boss’s boss. We didn’t really have to get along.

I followed Zoe through the back offices until we pushed into what looked like an employee locker room. A row of stalls lined one wall, with sinks directly across from them. Black lockers lay half unused along the right-hand side, with clothes and backpacks spilling out of them.

“Here, this should fit,” Zoe said, pulling out a dark purple garment from a Tupperware bin above the lockers.

I unrolled the piece of fabric and then glanced up at her over the top of it.

“You have got to be kidding me. Is this actually considered clothing?”

She smirked.

“Consider it a ‘Welcome to Provisions’ gift courtesy of Dean Harper.”





Chapter Three


Dean





“Where to Mr. Harper?”

The answer should have been one word: home. I’d been traveling for the last nine hours and my bed was calling my name. Unfortunately, my day was far from over. It’d been nearly a week since I’d stepped foot inside my newest restaurant and my control tendencies were starting to flare up.

I never liked leaving a fledging restaurant for very long. Management and staff needed a few weeks of babysitting before I felt like the machine was sufficiently oiled. My team at Provisions had undoubtedly taken advantage of my absence.

I met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Provisions. Up on—”

“I know where it is, sir.”

I nodded and turned my gaze out the window, trying to force my focus from my trip back to work. The fact that my suit stunk slightly of farm animals made the task nearly impossible.

Heading to Iowa to visit my family’s farm had been long overdue and highly unnecessary. The first day, my parents put on fake smiles, but soon enough questions and opinions were flying worse than the horse flies.

“You’re thirty-three years old, Dean. When are you going settle down? Start a family?”

Uh, never. Is that too soon? How about never plus infinity?

“You think that fast ’n’ hard life will sustain you for long?”

What do they think I’m doing in New York? Crack? I work twelve hours a day.

“Seems awfully lonely…”

No. Just last week Kelly, Carmella, and Svetlana kept me plenty occupied.

My parents couldn’t wrap their heads around how I could possibly be happy as a restaurateur in New York. They’d married at eighteen, had me at twenty. Their lives revolved around farm life and family life. Needless to say, I’d wanted something very different.

And I had it.

I was the top restaurateur in New York City. In the last few years, I’d had my hand in opening eleven restaurants around the city. This year, I planned on doubling that number.

“Here we are, Mr. Harper,” my driver said from the front seat. “Should I wait here until you’re done?”

I slid a generous tip over the console and shook my head. I had no way of knowing the current state of the restaurant. Likely, I’d be in there for hours. “I’ll call a cab. You can take my luggage back to my house and then head home yourself.”

He pocketed the tip with a wide smile. “Of course, sir.”

I nodded and slipped out of the back of the town car, buttoning my black jacket as I stood. My gaze slid over the facade of the building. The ivy was growing nicely along the exterior wall. The spotlight over the door perfectly illuminated the restaurant’s name, just as I’d intended. Even at ten o’clock, there were clumps of people milling out on the sidewalk.