Saving Us (The Billionaire Brothers of NY Duology #1)

2. Harper

CHAPTER 2

Harper

“ S hut up!” My hand slammed down on my phone as “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves blared from it. My original thought of it being a perfect song to wake up to was going to have to be reconsidered. And how was it possible that my alarm was already going off? It had to be a mistake. It felt as though I only slept a couple hours. When I got home from the club, I couldn’t even bring myself to wash my face I was so tired. And the evidence of that was now all over my pillowcase.

Waiting tables at one of the most exclusive clubs in New York City had its perks. The biggest one was, of course, the tips from the rich men who were the main clientele. It also allowed me to work my day job since the club was evening hours only.

My day job.

That was what I really loved to do.

I worked at Fiona’s Flower Shop . And I was her lead floral designer. We weren’t your everyday, run-of-the-mill floral shop. We had high-end corporate accounts as well as taking care of numerous weddings weekly. My team took care of the corporate accounts primarily, making floral arrangements for their entryways and offices on a regular basis.

My end game was to own my own shop, hence the day job and the night job. Either way, it was probably necessary living in NYC. I wasn’t interested in doing corporate, though I didn’t mind that part of my job. But I liked the interactive parts of the business: meeting the customers, seeing their smiles when the bouquet landed in their arms.

Katrina and the Waves was blaring from my phone again.

Shit! And now I was going to be late to that day job if I didn’t get my ass out of bed.

And I couldn’t be late. Fiona was giving me my big chance today.

My first-time meeting with a client face-to-face, alone, to further the account. This was the break I’d been waiting for, the opportunity I needed to move on one day and do this myself. I was going in early to meet with them before store hours so that we wouldn’t be interrupted. I felt that was a good move on my part.

Scrambling out from under the big down comforter, I ran to the bathroom to take a shower. My literal shoebox of a studio apartment was all I could afford, but thankfully I had my own bathroom. There were so many apartments here that didn’t if you could believe that. If I had to stroll down a hallway in my current state to pee or shower, it would be good for no one.

There was no time to wash my hair, so up in a bun it went as I jumped under the spray. It wasn’t as hot as I would’ve liked, it never really got to the ideal temperature if you asked me. The best type of shower was when your body was beet red when you were done, and the room was so foggy you couldn’t see a foot in front of you. But in this building, we settled for lukewarm at best.

Working at the club had its downsides as well. Me scrambling to get to my day job because I was exhausted from my late hours was the main one. I rarely got home and into bed on my club nights until around three a.m. Granted, I only worked at the club Wednesdays through Saturdays, so it wasn’t every day I dealt with this. But the days I did were tough since I needed to be at the shop by ten.

Drying my body as I dashed around my apartment, I hoped to find some clean clothes in the mess scattered across the floor. One aspect of my life that fell to the wayside because of my hectic schedule was cleaning and laundry, but something had to. And those were things that didn’t pay the bills.

My love of flowers and plants had been a lifelong passion, and I’d turned it into a new hobby of starting plantings in unique items. Currently, I had a fern growing from a boot, an aloe plant thriving in a conch shell, and some begonias just beginning in an old teapot.

Once they were sufficiently cared for, I found a pair of jeans that were clean and a white t-shirt that would do. Swiping on some mascara and some lip balm, I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. But I stopped myself and went back for my jacket since it was still cool on April mornings in New York.

Today would have to be one of those days I bought breakfast on the run. I didn’t enjoy having to do it; the cost made little sense to me. I could make perfectly good coffee, even better coffee, at home for a fraction of the cost. And the food was mainly processed. I’d been trying to eat healthier when time allowed. Who knew this adulting thing was so time-consuming?

“Hey, Harper, haven’t seen you in a while,” Rex said as I walked into the local bodega. It was on my way to the shop and the perfect spot to grab a quick meal. Plus, Rex was a great guy. Albeit a huge flirt. But he was harmless considering he was married with four kids and did most of his flirting with his wife standing right next to him.

“Hi, Rex.” Racing around, I looked for my usual, a yogurt parfait, grabbed it and hurried to the counter. I was so happy to see my tea waiting for me. As I was tapping my card on the reader, I looked into the kitchen. “Where’s Maria?”

Rex shook his head, and a deep rumble came from his chest. “Ahh, two of the kids are home sick from school. She’s with them.” He pointed above us with his finger, motioning to the apartment they lived in over their store.

“Hope they’re better soon. I’m sooo late, gotta run!”

He waved as I took off out the door, not watching where I was going.

That was when I plowed into…something.

It obviously had to be a person. It was the only logical possibility this close to the door as I exited. There were no phone poles close to Rex’s entrance. But it was sooo hard. Like, rock hard.

And then hands grabbed my arms to steady me.

But not before my hot, steaming tea hit the ground and my yogurt parfait hit me…splattering all over the sidewalk, my pants, and sneakers. My eyes went wide at the mess and a small whine escaped my lips. Hearing the sound, the arms holding me pulled me in closer, as if to protect me from whatever harm this could do to me.

I found my head flush against a soft wool jacket and was suddenly overcome with the scent of leather, mixed with spice and maybe a note of cedar or pine. My dismay at my current situation was temporarily halted by the divine smells invading my nose. It was almost putting me into a trance-like state as I leaned into the hard body holding me close and continued to, literally, sniff his coat.

But then, as if realizing the error of his ways, he pushed me away, his eyes glaring down at me.

“Jesus Christ, watch where you’re going!”

His voice whipped me out of my stupor, and I ripped myself from the stranger’s hold.

“I’m so sorry, I was in a hurry to get to work as I ran out the door and I didn’t see you both.” My words were weak, but I was surprised by the collision and his harsh words.

When I looked up, I was staring at two of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen. And working at the club, I’d seen my share.

They had to be related. Other than a variation in coloring, they looked similar. The one standing closer to the curb had lighter brown hair and almost hazel eyes. And although they were looking between me and the yogurt splattered on his expensive-looking loafers, they held a hint of playfulness in them.

The other, the one that had obviously just been holding me, was darker. Darker hair, a bit of scruff on his face, and darker eyes—more my type. But his eyes held something beyond darkness in them. And those dark eyes glared at me and the mess on his pants. His grip may have been soft on my arms, but his look held the anger he truly felt.

“Gage, cool it,” the lighter one warned his evil twin. He had a look of apology all over his face as his eyebrows lifted and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, we ran into you as well. We could’ve watched where we were going. And now …” He gestured to my breakfast that was currently forming a river running into the gutter of the already garbage filled street.

As he talked, the other one only continued to glare. And move further from me as he inspected the mess I’d made.

“It’s fine,” I said, gesturing to my now soupy mess on the concrete. My stomach was rumbling underneath my sweater as we stood there, indicating that it was indeed not fine. I used the napkins still in my hands to address the mess on my pants, but it didn’t do much in the way of cleaning them. I would have to deal with it once I got to work. “And I really am sorry, but I need to get going. I have an appointment at the shop, and I need to open up today. My boss’ll kill me if I’m not there to meet my clients.”

Moving away from them both, the friendlier one stepped in front of me, blocking my departure. His hands were up in front of him, making sure he kept himself a decent distance from me. I wasn’t sure if it was for my sake or his.

“Let me replace your breakfast.” His hand reached to his back pocket, I assumed to get his wallet.

“No, really. That’s very nice of you, but I’ve gotta go. Fiona will kill me. We have very important clients coming today and she gave me this meeting.” I looked at my phone and realized it was almost nine; I wasn’t going to make it. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late,” I muttered.

“Fiona?” the other one asked. “Is that the owner of the flower shop?” he said to the man who had to be his brother.

They shared a look before both sets of eyes landed back on me.

“Sorry again,” I said, looking mainly at the curmudgeon’s pants. “I, um, can get those cleaned for you if you want.”

“No, you can’t,” he said, very matter-of-factly.

My head snapped to his at the words, but he was done with me. They both were. But as they walked into the market, the nicer of the two pushed his brother and said something to him as he did. But I couldn’t hear him.

My pace needed to be quick. Those two took up precious minutes that I needed to make it to the shop. By the time I unlocked the door, it was already a little past nine, but lucky for me, no one was waiting to be let in. I raced to turn on the lights, adjust the thermostat, and put on the instrumental music that I loved to have on while I oversaw the shop.

Looking around, I realized everything was where it needed to be. I had left it in pristine condition when I closed the day before, thank goodness. That gave me a few extra minutes to try to clean myself up before my meeting. Running to the restroom, I grabbed a hand towel and ran it under the tap. I figured most of the mess on my pants would be covered by my apron, so I focused on my sneakers, and thankfully it came off the leather easily.

Feeling more at ease, I grabbed my apron, and worked my way through the store to the office in back, pulling the account binder from the desk. Opening the calendar, I double-checked who I was meeting with. I always liked to know the name of the person I’d be talking to.

Maryellen McEntyre

I remembered her. Beautiful girl. Hard to pinpoint if she was around my age or older, though. She seemed much more sophisticated than me, probably a result of working in the environment she did.

At that moment, the bell rang over the front door, alerting me my meeting was about to start. Grabbing the binders and paperwork necessary for the next thirty minutes, I bounded through the opening separating our office from the showroom, my arms full of portfolios with photos of the arrangements I’d been working on for weeks leading up to this meeting.

“Welcome, Maryellen,” I said, as I bounced into the showroom, the contents in my arms hitting the massive wooden workspace.

Fiona took my advice regarding this amazing table. We had two active workspaces, one in the back, but one out in the open for the customers to see the magic taking place. It was a massive square table, a beautiful piece of mahogany wood measuring a spacious six feet by six feet. It was surrounded by numerous stools to enable the customers to sit and watch their bouquets and arrangements being made, enjoying the simplicity of individual flowers being turned into enchanting designs.

“Maryellen couldn’t make it this month,” a deep voice responded.

My hands froze while opening the catalog of photos.

The voice.

I knew that voice.

And I was afraid to look up.

In the next moment, in my peripheral vision, a yogurt parfait and tea were set on the table in front of me.

And a small gasp escaped from my barely open mouth as my head moved ever so slowly to see who had placed it there. Though I had no doubt who it had to be.

There was only one person it could have been.

Well, one person and his grumpy companion.

A mixture of confusion and exhilaration consumed me. I lifted my eyes, and they grew wide as I stared at the pair in front of me. Each man stood at least a foot above my five feet four inches as they held their own coffees in their hands. But the looks on their faces were distinctly different.

Mr. Grumpy was still, well, grumpy. His harsh look as he stared back at me forced the breath I was holding to escape from my mouth, making a quiet swoosh sound as it exited. His face held a myriad of emotions as I scanned it quickly. I sensed a note of triumph as he gave his sidekick a glance, as if to drive home the notion he was right about me being the one who would come strolling through the door. Then it morphed into a softer look that started on my face and swept down to my toes, which I wasn’t expecting.

He did it swiftly.

Almost so quickly, I questioned if it happened at all.

But my body warmed at the thought of him looking at me that way.

And all of this happened in about three seconds.

Then he seemed done with me.

His, I assumed, brother was more jovial as he shot me a thousand-watt grin. And he knew he was hot. He was the guy I would’ve hung out with in college, a typical frat guy. He seemed easy-going and smiled. A lot.

“Here ya go,” he said, pointing to what had been placed on the table in front of me. “Figured it was the least we could do.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, really,” I said, a bit embarrassed.

“No worries,” Frat Boy said. “And the market guy knew your order, so it should be right.”

And then he flashed that white drop-your-panties smile again. But as I glanced at the other, his look was different.

His look wasn’t superficial like Frat Boy. His was more serious as his eyes bored into mine.

Then I pulled myself together.

My professional self got us back on track.

“Well, you both must be from Parker Financial Associates. I’m, uh, very glad to meet you.” My hand went out to Mr. Grumpy first, hoping to warm him up a bit. His grip was tight, his hand warm, but his demeanor remained cold.

As I turned toward the other, I watched a calculated veil shield his face. He went from sweet frat boy outside the coffee shop to the all-business-billionaire executive in the blink of an eye.

“I’m Chase, this is my brother, Gage,” he offered, his tone adding to the professionalism he was forcing into the situation as he shook my hand. “And, yes, Parker Financial is our company. Although it is technically still our father’s company, we’re running it.”

But then he took a step back.

It was obvious he was not the real one in charge.

And I wouldn’t be dealing with Frat Boy, but with Brother Curmudgeon.

Maryellen was the one from the company I normally met with. She was the sweetest, and I was missing her a ton at the moment. Why had she sent them instead? This seemed out of the ordinary, and I was confused.

I needed to get a handle on this meeting though, and quickly. They were one of our most important clients and Fiona was trusting me to take over this account. Turning back to the table, I opened the catalogs and portfolios to the many arrangements that they’ve used from us in the past.

“Well, gentlemen, welcome to our shop.” I gestured around the space, my arms spanning wide, as my eyes connected with Mr. Grumpy, who I knew now was Gage.

And my confidence drained, immediately.

He looked…bored.

But of course they’d be bored. Why in the hell would the-next-in line owners of a multi-billion-dollar company be the ones standing in a floral shop picking out designs for the summer arrangements?

But then I looked at Frat Boy. His eyes were trained on me as I spoke, his dedicated attention easing my nerves a bit.

“In front of you are photos of all the arrangements used in your building in the past for the upcoming season.” My voice was strained from the pressure to get it right. I was trying hard not to blow this account simply because I couldn’t keep it together in front of these two. “I also have some updated ideas for the season over here.”

As I reached for the other binder, I was stopped dead in my tracks.

“Well, if the arrangements you make are half as pretty as you, then we’ll be fine,” Frat Boy, otherwise known as Chase, threw into the conversation.

Looking up at him, the smug grin plastered across his face was that of a guy who always “got the girl.” For him, this was no longer a business meeting, but a pickup opportunity. And although I felt he was my only ally at the moment, I wasn’t interested in what he had in mind.

Glancing at Mr. Grumpy, I could tell he wasn’t either.

“Chase.” The terse way he said his brother’s name was full of warning. “Ignore him,” he directed at me.

My head snapped back. It was almost an order.

But Chase didn’t take the directive too kindly. He shot up on his stool, the metal falling to the floor, and stormed out of the shop.

Stunned by what had just happened, my heart sank as I watched my only ally desert me. And I was left with the man who looked like he wanted my puppy to die.

“I’m serious. He’s not involved with the bottom line in the company as much as I am. He has no idea how much money we give you guys,” Gage said. “He also has no idea how important first impressions are when people enter our building. And once we started using your arrangements, we had data proving those statistics improved.”

But now, as he spoke, I found myself wanting to listen to his words.

Don’t get me wrong, he was still a curmudgeon.

But he was a sultry curmudgeon. When he put that many words together, and I had the opportunity to hear his voice for a prolonged period, they sounded like melted caramel sliding from a spoon. Silky but thick as it warmed you from the inside out.

Okay, maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten breakfast that I found his voice so delicious. But his voice didn’t change the fact that half of my account had stomped out of our meeting.

“Well, I appreciate that, and I’ll be sure to share that information with Fiona. She’ll be happy to hear it.” My voice trembled slightly, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands, opting to rearrange the piles of papers and photos in front of us into different stacks. Sweat formed on the back of my neck and my temples.

I screwed up.

As I began to gather my materials for the meeting, his hand landed on my arm. “What are you doing?”

I looked up, not sure what to expect. Looking at the now empty doorway that was Chase’s escape route, I turned my attention back to Gage, his expression softer.

“This meeting isn’t over. Oh, and by the way, if you’re going to make it in this business, you should make sure to introduce yourself to your clients when you meet them.” He actually chuckled under his breath as he took a seat on one of the stools and opened one of the binders.

Fuck.

Holy Shit.

Did I never give them my name? Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how badly I screwed this up.

“I really would like to start this whole day over again,” I mumbled, mainly under my breath, but I knew he heard me. I moved to stand next to him, and we were eye to eye only because he was sitting down. It reminded me of crashing into him not fifteen minutes ago, and how my face was flush against his chest. His hard, solid chest.

He was tall. Like seriously tall. My eyes, when he stood, were looking straight at his pecs.

But now, as he sat and spun on his stool to face me, we were looking right at each other.

I extended my hand.

“Hello, Mr. Parker, my name is Harper Wilson. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He took my hand. And he didn’t just shake it.

He held it.

And looked… into me…with those caramel eyes.

“Harper,” he said.

But as he said my name, a feeling hit my spine from top to bottom. It was the way he said it.

“That name suits you.”

And then he let go of my hand. But he didn’t take his eyes off mine as he swiveled back toward the table.

“Let’s get to work, Harper. Maryellen tells me you’re the best at what you do, so show me what you’ve got.”

And that’s what I did.