“I can empathize,” I say. “My degree is in economics.”
“Oh.” She cringes. “I’m sorry.”
I snort. “And marketing is more interesting?”
“My degree isn’t in marketing. It’s in—”
Our waiter arrives in a huff, cutting Avery off. “I apologize for the wait, Mr. Harvey…Mrs. Harvey.”
Avery shoots me a pointed look, almost demanding I correct him.
What is it with this girl? So she clearly likes me, but the idea of being with me repulses her? What the hell?
I hold out my hand, gesturing across the table. “This is my friend, Ms. Scott.”
He flushes. “I am terribly sorry. Can I get you another drink, miss? Our signature cocktail for the evening has dark rum and Tahitian vanilla bitters. It’s quite popular.”
I raise my brow at Avery and she smirks back.
“No, thank you. I need my head this evening.”
I freeze and watch our waiter’s face turn beet red.
“Pardon me,” Avery says with a sly smile. “I mean, I need to keep my head this evening. Just water, please.”
“And you, Mr. Harvey?” The waiter pulls the oversized menus from underneath his arm, but I hold up my hand to stop him.
I’m not in the mood. We’ve been waiting too long. We should’ve been wrapping up dinner by now. Avery and I should already be back at my place…studying.
“Water is fine. We’re ready to order. The southwest rolls, but not with the mango salsa, with the pickled cilantro slaw. Then the pot stickers with the duck sauce, the crab fritters, not too spicy, and for dessert, raspberry tiramisu. Don’t split it. One plate, two forks is fine. Bring it out individually as it’s ready, no need to wait.”
“Of course, sir. Great order.”
We both wait until the waiter is out of earshot and talk at the same time.
“You said head on purpose, didn’t you—” I start.
“What the hell was that—” she also begins.
I rub my brow with one finger. “Ladies first.”
“Why is everyone here so skittish around you, Griffin Harvey the third? What’s up, Finn? What aren’t you telling me?” There’s a glint in her light eyes, eager to hear a juicy secret.
A secret I really don’t want to share.
I shrug. “My grandpa owns this restaurant. Apparently, that translates to I can get anyone here fired, which is not true, nor would I want to.”
“Oh.” Avery runs her fingertip across her lips as she contemplates my response. Even her nails are painted in a light pink. She really did go all out tonight.
Was that for me?
“I don’t mean to sound spoiled here, but then why did you have to call and make a reservation and why did we wait at the bar for so long?”
I let out a deep breath and sink into the tufted booth. “My grandpa owns a lot of places on the Strip. I try not to play the Harvey card. But I invited you out and I just wanted to treat you to a nice evening. I get the feeling you don’t get taken out a lot.” I don’t know what I said wrong, but I sure as hell said something wrong. Shit. Her eyes hit her lap immediately and I scramble. “I didn’t mean that no one would ask you—”
“No, no,” Avery replies, her eyes still down, “it’s fine. You’re right. I haven’t been single in years, and Mason and I were homebodies.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Finn, this is the only nice dress I own.”
I stay silent, too worried I’m going to say something wrong again.
“I mean, I make well into the six figures. I can actually afford to live in a decent part of L.A., which a lot of people can’t say…and this is the only nice piece of clothing I have. It’s the only dress I have that makes me feel pretty.”
I run my hand through my hair and grumble. “Is this whole arrangement just so I’ll call you pretty, because I already—”
“Stop.” Avery locks her eyes on mine, startling me with the fire blazing in them. “Please do not misunderstand me. This is not a shallow validation thing. It’s not about you calling me pretty. What good is it if you and every other man on this planet calls me pretty if I don’t believe it? Even more terrifying, what good is it if my entire worth is wrapped up in a man’s opinion of me? Look, Finn, my mom gave me the sex talk at age sixteen. You know what she told me?”
“What?”
“Don’t do it. Don’t get pregnant.”
“Oh boy…” Although my dad’s rendition wasn’t much better. His advice? Fuck early. Fuck often. Don’t settle down. Advice he gave me right in front of my mother.
“So I went from awkward sex to boring sex, eventually to no sex. I don’t know if Mason was the problem, or I was, but I just know I don’t want to have that problem ever again. I want to find someone who is a good match, who brings out the best in me. But I don’t know how to match myself because I don’t know what I like. I haven’t tried much of anything. Sex is behind closed doors, lights off, obligatory, and awkward. Would you be okay with that kind of sex life with your wife?”
Truthfully? No. “In a good marriage, if you’re unhappy, aren’t you supposed to talk about it and work on it together?”
Avery points square between my eyes. “Exactly. That’s what we’re doing.” She flits her hand in the air dismissively. “Without the marriage part, of course. This is research. A trade. It’s the perfect way to safely test the waters. I don’t know anyone else who has your confidence in the bedroom who needs my help with something too. Or at least I thought you did until I realized you’re secretly rich.”
My chest tightens as my jaw twitches. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, please,” Avery says, then vibrates her tongue against her bottom lip. “I was confused for a minute, but it’s all making sense now. Your Rolex has diamonds on it,” she says, nodding to my wrist. “You pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from your wallet without flinching, so I’m assuming there’s more where that came from, and everyone who hears your last name is quaking in their boots. Plus, I lied to you earlier. I wasn’t looking up hippopotamus. I have an uncanny knack for spelling. I was looking up Harvey Griffin Senior who owns two hotels, a dozen restaurants, and several parking garages all on the Strip. Net worth roughly in the ballpark of a quarter billion. Is that true? Those online estimates online are never accurate.” She pumps her eyebrows at me. “They’re usually a lowball. How am I doing here?”
I match her stare. “Are you interrogating me?”
Her smile spreads. “Your wealth is not my business, Finn. But I do wonder why you’re mooching off Dex’s nice steaks and borrowing his hot tub. I get the feeling you could certainly afford your own.”
I could lie about this so easily. I do it all the time. It’s a secret I managed to keep from Nora. To this day, she thinks my grandpa is actually broke because of tax evasion and my inheritance won’t be enough to cover a Happy Meal. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
But this is Avery. Without a doubt, I know my money doesn’t interest her. She’s not exactly a woman after the finer things in life. Yet another reason why we get along so well.