She disappeared around the corner toward the administrative wing, hips moving in a rhythm that made my pulse jump. As soon as she was gone, I pulled out my phone and immediately started searching for restaurants.
Chapter Seven
COLE
The interior at Provisions was warm and inviting—walls papered in thick cream, soft pendant lighting, tables dressed in ivory linens and cloth napkins. Large windows along the front let in what was left of the waning sunlight. Potted plants lined the windowsills and hung from the ceiling in the corners. The open kitchen meant diners at the bar could watch the chefs working, and the noise level was energetic but not loud.
I gave the hostess my name and she led me through the dining room to a table near the back corner. It was a two-top with a candle flickering in a small glass holder, positioned far enough from the kitchen that we would be able to talk without competing with the sound of pots and pans.
Harper was already there.
She wore jeans that hugged her hips and a rust-colored silk blouse with a deep V-neck that showed off her collarbone and the hollow at the base of her throat. Her hair was down tonight, shoulder-length curls framing her face in a wash-and-go style.She was absorbed in her phone, scrolling with one thumb, but she looked up as I came closer.
I slid into the chair across from her, the wood sighing beneath me. “Hey. You been here long?”
“Maybe five minutes.” She set her phone face-down on the table. “I ordered wine. I hope that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” I said.
As if he had been waiting for that cue, our server appeared with a bottle and two glasses. He poured wine into both glasses as he introduced himself and the specials, then asked, “Can I get you started with any appetizers?”
Harper ordered scallops; I went with the short rib on special. Our waiter, Derek, disappeared into the background with promises to bring bread shortly.
“To Friday,” said Harper, lifting her glass in a toast.
“To Friday,” I agreed, clinking my glass against hers.
The wine was good. I was not a wine person—I usually drank bourbon or beer—but I could appreciate a good red.
Harper tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me across the table. “There’s something different about you tonight.”
I laughed. “It’s the company. But I’m also distracted by this thing going on at RMC. Today was strange.”
“What kind of strange are we talking about?”
I swirled my wine, getting into the story. “So apparently, I’ve been oblivious to this group chat that some of the staff have. In this group chat, they discuss…” I paused, still not believing I was saying this out loud. “Various topics, including but not limited to my forearms.”
Harper blinked, her lips parting in surprise before she started to laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just…your face right now. Your forearms?”
“There’s an entire conversation in a group text about my forearms. Also, the chat name changes every week based on whatever part of my body they are fixated on.”
Harper’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession. She pressed her hand over her mouth, but I saw her shoulders shaking. “Cole!” she squeaked. “Stop. Are you serious?”
“Completely serious. One of the nurses said she couldn’t tell me what last week’s obsession was. I don’t even want to know.”
Harper’s burst of laughter made her lean back in her chair. Her laugh was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my embarrassment.
“I can guess. It’s below the waist?—”
“Harper, I really?—”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you, it’s just…that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year.”
“I heard humiliation builds character.”
“It’s not humiliation. It’s…” She paused, flurrying her hands around. “It’s people being people. You know this is completely normal, right?”
“Normal?”
