Harriet went back to her laptop and scrolled through Malcolm’s Facebook profile one more time. “Oh, how bad could it be?” The guy didn’t look like a serial killer, and maybe her friends were right; she had to get back in the dating scene at some point, maybe now was as good a time as any.
Harriet was sure Nigel wasn’t sitting at home pining over her or spending his nights moping around his apartment. He was busy entertaining his damn secretary, and probably laughing his head off at Harriet’s naivety.
She went to her closet and chewed on her lip. What did one wear to a blind date? She pulled out a red dress that she liked because it made her waist look small and looked fantastic with her honey-blonde hair. But then she had second thoughts. The neckline was a bit plunging, and she wasn’t sure it would be right for a first date with a man she didn’t know anything about.
Harriet picked up her phone and called Jules. Her sister would know what she should wear. Jules was always online dating and seemed to be going on first dates frequently, whereas Harriet was sorely out of practice.
“Hey, Harry, how’s it going?”
“Oh, okay. Um, do you have five minutes? I seem to have fallen victim to Tashia’s matchmaking and have to go on a blind date in a few hours. I have no idea what to wear.”
“Whoa! Never thought I’d hear the words ‘blind date’ and ‘Harriet’ in the same sentence.”
Harriet heard someone in the background say, “Is that Harry?”, and then laugh. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, are you with Miles?” Her brother would never let her live this down.
“Yeah, I told you I was home for a few days.”
“Great. Um, do you think we could do this without him knowing my shame?”
Jules laughed. “Okay, I’m going to my room now. Do you want to switch to FaceTime and let me see what you have in your closet?”
Logan
Late Sunday Afternoon…
Logan’s phone had been buzzing all day. He picked it up from the bar and glanced at the caller ID. Damn it, Cassandra. He’d had enough of her voicemails and texts apologizing for her behavior last night. Logan answered the call. “You’re gonna have to stop calling me.”
She sobbed into the phone. “Please, Logan, I don’t know what came over me last night.”
He sighed. “Look, Cassandra, it’s not just last night. Things have been off for a few weeks between us. I don’t want to hurt you, but you must have sensed this, too. You hate me working nights because I can’t take you out, and when I am free in the day at the weekends, you have other things planned.”
She sniffed. “I guess.”
“Let’s just go our separate ways, yeah?”
“Fine.” Cassandra must have ended the call, because the line went dead.
Logan switched off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He hated that things had ended, but Logan was a simple guy, and his two non-negotiables in a relationship were trust and friendship. Cassandra didn’t trust him, which she had proven last night. As far as friendship, well, he wasn’t sure they were ever friends. They didn’t share much stuff together, and he had a hard time seeing that she’d be there for him if he needed her. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure he’d be that great a friend to her, either. The more he analyzed what they’d had, the more he realized they only one thing in common—sex.
Cassandra wasn’t someone he would normally hang out with. Hmm, that was a common theme amongst his girlfriends. Jeez, why couldn’t he have both a friend and a girlfriend all rolled up into one neat package? Unbidden, an image of Harriet flew into his head. That was what he needed, a Harriet. Someone he genuinely enjoyed spending time with, who was super cute, and… he banished the thought from his mind because he had long since ruled Harriet out. They were friends. Good friends–even if he did find her attractive and had the biggest crush on her for the longest time, she was a friend. F.R.I.E.N.D. “Stay in your zone, Logan!” he chastised himself aloud.
A knock on the bar door, pulled him out of his head. “Hold up, I’m coming.” He went and opened it. “You here for the interview?”
Logan stood back and let in a very attractive, ebony-haired woman.
“Sarah.” She held out her hand. “Sorry, I’m early.”
“Don’t apologize. That bodes well. Come on over and take a seat at the bar.”
Sarah confidently strolled over to the bar and surprised him by putting her bag on the stool, and then slipping behind the counter. “Why don’t I give you a hand while we chat?”
Logan grinned at her. “Well, I’m not going to refuse any help.”
Sarah set about running the glass washer, and Logan made a note at how efficient she was at organizing the mayhem he’d left behind the bar last night. As he fired questions at her, she rinsed the glasses, dried them, and restocked them in pristine little rows. From there, she began wiping down and cleaning the surfaces, pulling bottles out and wiping underneath and behind them as she methodically worked her way down his thirty-foot bar.
“Your resumé says you are a mixologist?”
“Yeah, I’ve been at Jumpers for a couple of years.”
Logan nodded. Jumpers was a cool club on the other side of town, least it was until the police raided it last week and carted off the owner for running illegal gambling in the back rooms.
She put down her cloth. “Hence the job change. I knew nothing about all that stuff the owner was involved in, I just made the drinks.”
Logan nodded. “No worries. He stiffed most of his staff from what I heard. Well, Sarah, you’ve already demonstrated how efficient and comfortable you are behind a bar. I’m going to be honest
