HARPER
I slid into my usual booth in the back of Rafferty’s. The place was busier than I’d expected it to be, which was fine. I liked a crowd thick enough that two colleagues having drinks wouldn’t draw a glance, but not so loud that we’d have to shout to be heard.
Rafferty’s didn’t pretend to be anything it wasn’t. It had an urban edge but was upscale, a perfect balance of grit and polish. Concrete floors gleamed underfoot and exposed ductwork ran overhead. The tables were thick slabs of reclaimed wood, each one catching the glow of Edison bulbs dangling above.
The bar itself stretched long, a fusion of steel and wood, the shelves behind it crowded with small-batch spirits and local brews. Flat screens were generously hung and looped sports highlights with the sound dialed way down.
A waiter materialized at my table, order pad already in hand. “Welcome to Rafferty’s. What can I get started for you tonight?”
“I’ll take a whiskey sour.”
I pulled out my personal phone while I waited. Three texts from Alicia—random chitchat and asking me how I was doing. One from Mom about Sunday dinner and if I could pick up a bottle of wine on my way. And one from my brother, Aaron. He was the only boy, so though he was divorced and had a child, he was spoiled, even at thirty-one.
I opened the text, curious. He rarely reached out unless he needed something.
Aaron:
Hey Harpy.
Mia has a school dance coming up and I agreed to take her shopping. Any chance you could tag along? You got a style that I like and she’ll listen to you about what she should get.
I grinned at his crass nickname for me, then at the thought of shopping with my niece. I happily texted that I would join them on their shopping trip—just name the date and the place; Auntie will be on the way.
My shattered work phone sat in the bottom of my bag, a small disaster that I wasn’t looking forward to reporting. I pulled it out, examining the destroyed screen. The IT department was going to have a field day.
So was Rowan. This was the second phone I’d had to replace lately.
My drink arrived, condensation already beading on the glass. I thanked the waiter and took a sip, tartness making me wince slightly before the warmth of the bourbon spread through my chest. I sighed, trying to remember the last time I’d done this. Just gone out for drinks on a weeknight, no agenda, and enjoyed myself.
The door swung open, spilling a chill into the room. Cole stepped inside, his gaze moving over the crowd. It only took a second for him to spot me. His lips curled into a smile as he made his way toward the booth.
“Wasn’t sure you’d actually show,” I said as he slid in across from me.
“Wasn’t sure you actually wanted me to.” He settled in, comfortable. “You did drive off pretty fast.”
“I was giving you time to decide.”
“Appreciate it.” He lifted a hand, caught the waiter’s eye. “Bourbon. Neat.”
When we were alone again, I gestured at my destroyed phone on the table. “Exhibit A in why my brother, the tech pro, calls me a walking disaster.”
Cole picked it up, turned it over. “It only took you three days to kill it, huh? Didn’t IT give you a case?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I don’t know where I put it. I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to order one? Don’t you have an assistant that could get one for you?”
I scowled, becoming overly concerned with my whiskey sour. “They’re also very busy. They’ve got important things to do.”
“Do I want to ask how you destroyed the last one?”
I laughed despite myself. “Uh, I dropped it in a pot of chili?”
“Oh. Oh shit.” Cole’s laugh was deep and rich, even at my expense. “How does someone even do that? Were you cooking and texting?”
“So what if I was?”
Cole raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the booth. “I’m just picturing you in an apron, stirring chili with one hand, negotiating with the other, and then…”
