Page 61 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
“Because you pay better than most people,” Emil says.
Seth whacks him. “Please don’t pay us less. We like working for you. But that just goes back to the fact that you could honestly sit back and let us do our thing, and then you don’t have to worry about being too busy to date this girl.”
Before I can come up with some sort of argument, Rick stands up and fixes me with a stern look. “He’s right. Just because you started this company, it doesn’t mean it all falls on your shoulders. You’ve got a team for a reason, Torres, and we’ve got your back.”
I didn’t mention the other reasons I can’t date Brooklyn—Houston and Mark—but weirdly I feel better about things. A little, anyway.
“Talk to her,” Rick says. “Or step out of her life. You’re never going to be able to have it both ways now that you feel something for her. Cross that bridge or go home.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I agree, though I have no idea when. It’s not the sort of thing I can throw at her right before she goes on a date with another guy, but if her date goes well…
I’ll just have to show up tonight and hope for the best.
Chapter Eighteen
Brooklyn
“Queens?” Jordan’s call makes mejump, even though it sounds like he’s still at the front door and nowhere near my closet, where I’m on the floor buried in clothes.
“I’m in here.” I sound breathless, like he scared the bejeebers out of me. Because he did. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way?”
He appears at my bedroom door with my phone in his hand and one eyebrow raised high. “You should get a smart watch so you don’t have to—”
“No way. I’m convinced one of those would try to eat me alive or something.”
“What are you doing down there?”
I look at the floor around me, which is piled high with most of the contents of my closet. “Uh, I was trying to find something to wear.”
“Most people keep things on the hangers as they search. Here.” Reaching out his hand, he helps me up to my feet and makes sure I’m steady before letting go. “Are there any you’re trying to choose between?”
No, because everything I own is lame. I didn’t used to care much, but then I dated a guy who was all about appearances, and he took me shopping until my wardrobe was full of fashion-forward pieces that never felt comfortable. I had to replace it all when I became a teacher, buying most of my stuff at thrift stores because I couldn’t afford much else. That left me with nothing but t-shirts and professional attire, which means I have absolutelynothingto wear on this date tonight.
Probably seeing my distress, Jordan sighs and looks at my mess of clothing. “What are you doing for your date tonight, anyway?”
“Dinner. And, uh, going to the art gallery.” I smack him when he smirks. “Don’t laugh! I told you he liked that kind of stuff.”
“But do you like it?” He mumbles that to himself, picking up a pantsuit and making a scrunched up face. “Queens, when was the last time you updated your wardrobe?”
I fold my arms. “A few years ago. After…” Biting my lip, I pick up a maroon sweater that’s kind of classy. “What about this?”
He barely looks at it before shaking his head. “Remember that lesson I gave you about temptation? That won’t cut it. You want him to look twice when he first sees you.”
“What, you want me to wear something revealing?” I shudder.
“No, not…” He clenches his jaw and picks up a light pink blouse. “You want something that makes him wonder. That tells him you’re interested without giving him the wrong idea.”
He speaks with such authority that I can’t help but wonder how many people he dressed while he was working at that PR firm. How many clients did he give makeovers to? How many women did he coach through a date or a business deal?
What did his wife wear when he first saw her?
I tuck my arms a little tighter around myself. “I’m pretty sure I don’t own anything that can do that, Jordan.” More importantly,Ican’t do that. I may have learned to do the subtle touches, but one weekend of spontaneous lessons doesn’t equate to natural allure. I’m still amazed Mark asked me out in the first place, but I can’t be certain that he’ll remain interested after he actually gets to know me a bit.
As soon as he gets beneath the surface, he’ll no longer wonder. He’ll know that I’m not worth pursuing.
Something catches Jordan’s eye. He leans past me, reaching to the very back of my closet, and pulls out a navy blue cocktail dress that I wore to Kit and Skyler’s wedding. My stepsister made me one of her bridesmaids, and thankfully she went with an understated design so I didn’t feel ridiculous when I wore the dress. With a high neckline, the sleeveless dress falls just above my knees and hugs my curves without making me feel exposed, and I honestly forgot I had it even though I wore it only a few months ago.
“This one,” Jordan says, though he gives no sign that he’s going to hand it over to me. He’s too busy staring at it with distant eyes, like he’s imagining what it will look like.
