Page 39 of Blue Collar Hotties

It’s dark backstage. It’ll never stop shocking me how dark and dusty and echoing it is backstage at these shows, especiallycompared to the throbbing music and hot, sparkly lights out front.

The first time I came back here at one of Lenore’s shows, it pissed me off. Thought someone was messing with her, making her hide behind these thick black curtains in the shadows because she was new and inexperienced, or whatever. I was ready to grab some collars, shake a better attitude into whoever needed it.

But nope. Turns out even the greatest designers deal with the same spiders when they put on their fashion shows. And Lenore doesn’t care at all, not one bit, because she’s too busy holding her breath and peeking through the curtain, not blinking, as her designs parade up and down the catwalk.

“They like that one,” she murmurs, reaching back to tug on my sleeve. “Gabe, they really like that one.”

“Good,” I say gruffly, even though if I’m honest, half these designs are beyond me. A mini dress made of chain mail? What use would that be in battle? But I sure as shit believe that these designs are genius, even if I don’t get ‘em, because they came from Lenore Dempsey’s brain.

“This is going so well,” she whispers, like she can’t believe her luck. Even though every show she’s done so far has gone down a storm, and there’s a great turnout tonight for this: the first show ever where she’s the only designer. The main attraction. It’s been a long time coming, and Lenore would tell you it’s still not a huge deal, butIknow. I see how hard she works.

If I were any prouder, I’d explode.

Sliding one palm around my wife’s body, I cup the hard curve of her stomach. It’s still barely noticeable when she wears these draping blouses, but you can feel it alright. Her baby bump. Our child growing inside her.

Five years ago, when we first got together, we got Lenore on birth control pretty quick. She had a college course to finish, acareer to launch, and you bet your ass I was never going to be the obstacle in her way.

But a year ago, Lenore stopped taking her pill. Said she was ready for our next step.

And peeking over her head at the bright lights out there… well, it’s barely slowed her down at all.

“I’ll have to work less soon,” Lenore murmurs, like she’s reading my mind. I shrug, crowding closer against her back, and press a kiss to the back of her head.

“You’ll need to rest, sure. Your body will need to recover, and you’ll want to get to know our baby. But then you’ll be back at it, gorgeous, more inspired than ever. And I’ll help you with whatever you need, you know that. We always figure it out.”

Her head tips back against my shoulder. I kiss her neck, rubbing circles over her bump, and my lips curve when I feel her big sigh.

“So I can keep my career?” Lenore whispers. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Whatever it takes. Even if that means hiring help, or winding down my own business to change nappies at home. Whatever my girl needs, that’s what she’ll get. I’m not an idiot. There’s no greater calling in my life than making this woman smile.

Maybe she’ll want to work less. Maybe she won’t.

Either way, I’m here to make it happen.

And maybe Lenore would’ve had more resources if she’d married some banker the Hattworths picked out; maybe she could afford a fancier car or a butler or whatever.

But no stupid banker would put her first. And we’re wealthy as fuck when it comes to love.

“Baby?”

She hums. “Yeah?”

“Wear that chain mail dress for me later.”

III

Dared By My Roommate

Description

He’s the last guy on earth I’d expect to live with.

But we’re both desperate for a roommate–so how bad could it be?

At first glance, my new roommate and I have nothing in common. I’m shy; he’s cocky. I’m careful; he’s daring. I’ve never left this city and he just got back from the Sahara.

But we have one crucial thing in common: we both need a roommate fast, or we’re screwed.

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