Mister O(67)

I pace up and down Sixty-Second Street. I drag my hand through my hair. I stare at my phone again.

I am not jealous that she’s with Simon. I am not annoyed.

I check my texts again.

Princess: Running late. I helped them clean up and then had to grab a coffee after the party.





I will my teeth to unclench. I let go of the jealousy roiling inside me. Harper is a friend, and I won’t lose her as a friend.

I think of my dad and his yoga mantras, his calm demeanor. The guy is unruffled, and he takes everything in stride. Yup. That’s me. Life is good, I’m a lucky bastard, and I’m as cool as Saturn’s surface with the fact that Harper is getting a coffee with Simon before I take her to Grand Central Station for God knows what reason.

Besides, I’ve got my own coffee. So there.

When Harper rounds the corner, clutching a paper cup, the Hemsworth dad by her side, his hand wrapped around into his daughter’s smaller one, I take a deep, fueling breath.

Because you know what? He’s better for her than I am. She likes kids. She wants kids. She’s really good with them. I didn’t even know what a Braxton Hicks contraction was.

If I’m going to be her friend, I have to let this envy go.

They stride up to me, and I paste on my biggest, brightest, happiest, shit-eating, nothing-is-f*cking-wrong-with-me smile. “Hey Harper. How are you?” I turn to Thor and say hello. “How’s it going, man? Was the party good?”

Hayden goes first. “It was the best ever. Anna the Amazing did the coolest tricks.”

“She was incredible,” Simon says, chiming in, and nope, I totally don’t want to put chicken bouillon in the showerhead in his bathroom. Nope. I don’t want to swap out his deodorant for cream cheese. Because really, I haven’t done that shit since I was sixteen and pranking Wyatt.

I’m a grown man, and I don’t need to beat my chest or stoop to that level. Besides, I can be Harper’s friend, even if she dates this dude and wears her butterfly panties for him.

Smoke billows out my eyes as that image evilly taunts me. I crush the coffee cup in my hand, and the remnants of my drink squirt all over the sidewalk.

Oops.

Hemsworth: one. Nick: zero.

“Everything okay?” Harper asks as I toss the cardboard cup in the trash can then try to wipe the drink from my hands.

I laugh it off. “Shouldn’t have upped the weights at the gym this week. Didn’t realize how strong my forearms were getting.”

“My daddy is strong, too,” Hayden says and grabs Simon’s arm and holds it up. Yeah, he’s a candidate for arm porn, too. Curses. “He’s a super star!”

“That’s what she calls me,” Simon says, in an “aw shucks” manner, and it is not fair that this guy looks like a movie star and is humble, too. It’s like finding out your favorite athlete gives all his money to animal charities.

“It’s adorable,” I say, and I’m sure no one can hear the acid in my voice. I’m masking it so well. Besides, Harper won’t even notice. She’s probably blushing and unable to speak around the man she really wants.

“Simon,” she says, turning to him. “Thank you for the coffee. And I know Abby is going to be so excited to hear from you. She finishes with her current family next week, and she’s one of the best nannies so she’ll be in demand. You need to snap her up.” Harper snaps her fingers and laughs.

Simon laughs, too. “I’m calling her as we speak.”

What the hell did I just witness? Harper didn’t babble. She didn’t speak in tongues. She didn’t freak out.

“Well, not technically as we speak,” she says, making a joke.

“You got me on that one.”

“Okay, I need to run.” She bends to Hayden and pretends to pull a pack of mini Skittles from her ear. “Special gift from Anna the Amazing for the birthday girl.”

Hayden’s eyes widen, and she clutches the candy. “I love Skittles! They’re my favorite.”

“I know,” she says then waves good-bye to her. She shifts her gaze to her crush. “Fingers crossed that it’ll all work out.”

He twists his index and middle finger together.

“See you later, Harper.” He extends a hand to me. “Good to see you again, Nick. Congrats on your show doing so well. Harper mentioned it to me. She’s proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I say as Simon walks away with his daughter, and I cock my head, trying to figure out this strange creature in front of me with red hair, wearing Harper’s clothes. Her massive bag is on her shoulder so I’m pretty sure she’s not an impostor, but I have no clue how she pulled off that trick of acting normal. Unless . . . she’s no longer into him. Which would be the best news ever . . . except she only wants to be friends with me.

But wait.

Let’s think about that.

Let’s add up all the facts.

Last night at my house when she was bent over the couch, she was a lot more than friendly. When she rode me into her third climax of the quartet I gave her, she was much more than cordial. As she cried out, Oh Nick, no one makes me feel like you do, that sounded a touch warmer than simple fondness.

And it felt like a lot more than lessons in seduction. It felt like much more than mind-blowing sex. It felt like we were falling for each other.