Page 97 of Something Cheeky

“Oh.” Her expression was unreadable.

Fuck.She was trying to hide her disappointment.

“Is it because your Vietnamese sucks?” she finally asked.

Derek’s mouth dropped. Was she serious? Of all the reasons for the new title, this hadn’t been on his radar. Wait, there was a gleam in Zoe’s eyes. She was teasing.

“I had you going!” Zoe giggled. She was adorable when she giggled. He especially enjoyed the way her chest gently shook with joy. “Thank God you changed it, because if I had to hear Greg mispronounceT?m Cámone more time, I’d be arrested for assault.”

Derek snorted. “You and Th?o both.”

“All those lessons I gave you in college—did you remember any of it?”

“I thought I did pretty well the other night.” He winked.

“Besides the pick-up lines.” She rolled her eyes at him, but a blush crept up on her cheeks.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t grow up around a bunch of loud, nosy Vietnamese aunties and uncles so my Vietnamese is limited.” He stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

“You’re so cute when you’re offended.” Zoe’s breath hitched. “I miss our three-o’clock quickies.”

“Aha! You miss them, too,” he accused.

Derek met her eyes. They were dark and dilated. Her mouth was slightly open and her cheeks were turning pinker by the second. Even though they weren’t pressed against each other in the fitting room, their bodies remembered. Suddenly the air grew hot in the tiny office.

They both looked away. Zoe cleared her throat.

“Rain check later tonight?” she whispered hoarsely. “We still have a lot of work to do out there.”

“Wait—” Derek stared out the office’s window. Every sewing machine was occupied. “Did you hire more sewists? We don’t have that in the budget.”

He’d stretched their budget more than the producing director had originally allowed. There was no way he could sweet talk Greg into more over-hires.

“You don’t have to worry about it. Those are my staff from Something Cheeky.” She swelled with pride. “They’re the best.”

“I’m confused. If they’re here, what’s going on at...” He trailed off as his stomach dropped. What had she done? No, no, no. It couldn’t be.

“I’ve closed down Something Cheeky until opening night and redirected my team here to work onT?m—I meanThe Brocaded Slipper.”

“Zoe, that’s too much. How will you pay them if you closedown the boutique for two weeks?” Derek rubbed his forehead. Everything was going wrong again.

“We’re not flush with cash, but I can cover payroll for a few weeks.” She brushed some invisible lint off her jeans.

“I didn’t ask you to come on board to put you on the hook financially. Why don’t we scale back the costumes? Until we get some more investors on board and hire out the costume construction,” he suggested. He hated how frantic his voice sounded.

“No. I’ve invested too much time, energy, and now money to scale back. This is my chance to design the costumes my way without some white dude telling me how Asian things are supposed to look.” Zoe white-knuckled the arms on her chair.

“We’re not in college anymore, Zoe. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“That’s not true. We’re proving ourselves every time we walk into Prestige. I don’t care ifyouwant to make this show easier and more palatable for people like Greg.” Zoe stood up. Her face was red and her hands were balled into fists. “I refuse to hide my voice and my aesthetic.”

Dammit, he wished he could touch her, hold her hand, or even better hug her. But he couldn’t. Their raised voices had caught the staff’s attention. They quickly looked away when he turned to look out.

“Zoe, I love every single one of your designs. They tell the story as much as the music does.”

She bit her lip but didn’t speak.

“But I won’t have you risk your livelihood for these costumes. You’ve invested years of your life to create a place that helps women feel beautiful. One musical isn’t worth closing Something Cheeky.”

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