And that's what really pisses me off. “Fine,” I say finally. “Professional it is.”
10
Avery
I made the right decision.
I've been telling myself this ever since Liam left my office. It’s the only decision that makes sense professionally, logically,andrationally.
So why am I not happy with myself?
Why do I keep remembering the side of him that the public doesn't know? The man who adopted six puppies, all because he couldn’t bear the thought of them being put down.
And why can't I forget the ruthless, delicious pressure of his cock, the way he knew exactly how to angle himself to hit that perfect spot, drawing a scream from me with just a few thrusts.
I shake those thoughts out of my head as the Uber pulls up to Hayes & Company Event Planning. This is exactly the kind of thinking that gets me in trouble. Liam Novak is a client. A job. Nothing more.
The building is in SoHo and is a converted warehouse with exposed brick and industrial windows. I stroll into the reception area, which is gorgeous with a small seating area and flowers on a coffee table.
“I'm here to see Harper Hayes,” I tell the young woman at the desk.
“She's expecting you. Third floor, corner office.”
I take the elevator up, using the mirrored walls to check my appearance. No hint of the woman who spent last night tangled up in her client's sheets while puppies slept at the foot of the bed.
The elevator opens onto the third floor's open workspace. Near the entrance, a woman with headphones hunches over her desk, fingers flying across her keyboard.
Past the collaborative area, a corner office with glass walls catches my eye. That has to be Harper's. I make my way across the space.
She looks up with a smile when I knock on her open door. “Avery, come in, please.”
Harper Hayes is tall and elegant, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She's wearing tailored black pants and a silk blouse, managing to look both professional and stylish.
“Thanks for making time on short notice,” I say, settling into the chair across from her desk.
“Of course. Jennifer speaks highly of you.” Harper closes her laptop and gives me her full attention. “How are you settling into New York?”
“Still unpacking boxes, honestly,” I say with a laugh.
“Have you found the best coffee spots in your neighborhood?”
If I hadn’t been so obsessed with Liam, I would have done that and a lot more. “I’m getting there.”
“We need to fix that immediately.” Harper leans forward, her expression warm and conspiratorial. “Listen, I know we're here for business, but if you ever want to grab drinks or need recommendations, call me. A new city can be isolating, and the sports world is small enough that we should stick together.”
The offer makes my heart squeeze. I've been so focused on work that I haven't thought about actually building a life here. “I'd like that.”
“Good. Now—” Harper's phone rings, cutting her off. She glances at the screen, and a smile comes over her features. “I'm so sorry, I need to take this.”
“No problem.”
“Hey, you,” Harper says into the phone, and even though I'm trying not to eavesdrop, it's clear this is personal. Her voice goes warm and affectionate. “No, I told you the caterer samples are on Friday. Because I'm working, that's why. I literally scheduled it around your free time.”
She shoots me an apologetic look, mouthing “boyfriend” while rolling her eyes fondly.
I busy myself examining the mood boards on her wall. The Renegade's logo appears frequently enough that it's clear she handles most of their events.
“Love you too,” Harper says, ending the call with a smile. “Sorry about that. I’m planning a surprise birthday for my boyfriend, and keeping it a surprise is hard with the season ongoing.”
