Page 2 of Ungodly Rich

She didn’t have time for men like that anymore. The ones who knew how attractive they were, who thought they could use you and discard you.

Later, she would learn that Harry had been intrigued by her cool dismissal of him, had perhaps even seen it as a challenge. That must have been why he came over to ask if anyone from their group wanted to play darts.

“We’re not interested,” Julia said swiftly.

That elusivesomethinghad sparked in his expression again, amusement mixed with curiosity and a new alertness. As if he’d been half-asleep before Julia’s swift rejection jolted him awake.

“Too bad,” he said slowly. “I was ready to put some money on it.”

Julia told herself that was the reason she changed her mind, because she couldn’t resist the chance to fleece this group of frat boys. Little did they know how much time she and her best friend, Abby, had spent at Cutter’s back in Boston.

“Why not,” she declared, marching toward him. “Twenty bucks?”

He chuckled. “Let’s make it a hundred.”

They settled into the game, watching each other. There were moments when Julia felt certain Harry would win, including an impossible shot where he split her dart straight down the middle. For a moment, the sly look on his face made her wonder if he’d done it on purpose, though she didn’t speak the thought aloud. No one wasthatgood at darts.

When she won, Harry pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

“A bottle of champagne.” Julia was well aware that this bar didn’t stock champagne, but she had a perverse desire to push him, just to see what he would do.

He made a show of looking at the chalkboard menu behind the bar. “I’m afraid I’ll have to owe you a bottle. They don’t have champagne on offer.”

On offer,what a funny phrase. Harry spoke with a slight accent, though Julia couldn’t place it, and she’d gotten rather good at accents after her years working for Elysian. He drew out his vowels the way Europeans did, yet he didn’t use their strong R’s.

“In that case, I’ll take a vodka tonic with lime,” Julia decided.

Moments later, Harry returned with their drinks, then clinked his beer mug to her glass. “Cheers. To your victory.”

“To my victory,” she repeated, liking the sound of it.

• • •

“I should have showered before we ate. My hair smells like the river.” Julia unwound the elastic band from her ponytail, letting her dark brown hair fall onto one shoulder. Water droplets still clung to her curls, dampening her T-shirt.

“Here, let me check.” Harry leaned over as if to smell her hair, then nuzzled her neck. Julia laughed and pretended to push him away. He sat back, grinning. “You smell fine to me.”

“That’s because the rivers here are made of glacier water.” She reached across the table for a French fry—even after two years here, it was hard for her to call it a chip. “When I was at Harvard, the crew team used to dunk the freshmen in the Charles River. They smelled like drowned rats afterward,” she recalled.

“ ‘When I was at Harvard…,’ ” Harry teased, repeating her words in a snooty voice.

Julia smiled softly. She didn’t share much about her time at Harvard, except impersonal memories like this one.

Harry reached for another bite of fried fish, swiping it liberally through the tartar sauce. “Our anniversary is next week. I was thinking we should go somewhere nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes, nice. The type of place where you eat food that comes on an actual plate, not in a plastic basket. The type of place you need to wear dry clothes.”

“I thought men loved wet T-shirts,” Julia quipped.

“Trust me, I’m not complaining.” Harry eyed her appreciatively. “But don’t you think we should commemorate the fact that it’s been two years since we met? I feel so lucky,” he added in a more serious voice. “I still can’t believe we found each other.”

Julia knew what he meant. It almost scared her—the fact that this man, who now felt so crucial to her happiness, had entered her life through a chance encounter. What if she hadn’t met him?

“I’m so glad the other girls talked me into going out that night,” Julia reminisced.

“Not to mention, we ended up at the same bar. What was it called? Lenoir?”