Page 29 of Beau Pair
“She made me sign a contract before we went anywhere near plotting. She says she doesn’t want anything to come between us, and if it does, she wants both of us to be protected,” she says.
“I’m sure that’s far more romantic in your writer’s head than it is in my poor designer’s head,” I laugh it off and take the last bite of my pretzel.
Naturally, Zoe’s remains untouched.
“Okay now, shut your trap and eat up because I need fabrics,” I say, and she gives me a pout that says she’s not done here and definitely not finished talking about Dolly.
“I thought you were blocked,” she says, finally picking up her food.
“I am. But I want to make it up to Gordon. And I promised him a suit, so we’re gonna go out and buy the best fabrics we can find so I can make him something pretty.”
Zoe grimaces. “Because that’s not weird at all.”
“What?”
“He catches you jerking off, and you make him a suit. Normal stuff,” she says. “And don’t even get me started on that kiss. You have to admit he likes you. Otherwise, why would he kiss you after he found you sniffing his underwear?”
“He didn’t kiss me. He kissed my cheeks.”
What a fantastic argument I’m making. As if it makes a difference. It’s still weird, and I still can’t understand why he’d done that other than to calm me down, which created more questions than answers.
I look around us and thankfully no one is paying us any mind. The last thing I want is for the entire mall to know I was jerking off to my boss’s musky scent.
And boy what a musk it is.
I find myself addicted to it. Like, fantasizing about it. About him rubbing his scent on me like we’re filthy animals. I’ve even memorized it. Now more than ever. Of course, after I’ve been caught, I’m not going to risk smelling his underwear. Although I have to admit, that thrill of him catching me—again—is quite exhilarating.
Great.
And now I have a boner.
“I’m ready. Let’s go get your dream man some dreamy fabrics.” Zoe gets up and stares at me.
Crap. She can’t shut up for hours about her Dolly, and now that I have anuncomfortablesituation, she’s ready to givemesome attention?
I grab my backpack off the floor and use it to cover my front as I get up, and we take off for the fabric store on the third floor.
“So,” Zoe says, placing her hands on her hips and looking around the oasis we’ve just walked into.
You canonlydescribe this place as an oasis.
Well, for me, anyway. They’ve got everything from calico to wool—silk, satin, lace—and all the embellishments one could ever need, like crystals of every kind.
“What do you want to put him in? Something mature and toned down or something crazy and slightly floral like you?”
“Have I told you how much I hate you today?” I grimace.
Instead of being offended, she hugs me and pets my head. “Naww, you don’t need to tell me, honeybun. I already know. And I hate you too.”
“Enough. Enough,” I shout in her arms, trying desperately to escape, but she only relents when I threaten her with revealing all her dirty secrets to Dolly. Which is funny because Zoe doesn’t have any dirty secrets. That I know of. “So, Gordon’s colors are blue, white, and grey. I can see him in something emerald green too. So look for any of those colors on the fabrics and anything that stands out. Ideally, I want cotton and silk, but I’m flexible. Nothing tweed, though. That man’s skin needs to breathe a little.”
“You would know.” Zoe elbows me and goes in search of exciting fabrics to work with.
“Can we stop with the jokes now?” I shout. The store assistant turns to look at me.
“Not until you’re ready to hear more about scissoring,” Zoe says, and I cringe. “Just what I thought, Mr. Sniffy.”
I take a deep breath, grit my teeth, and say nothing else.
Besides, it’s shopping time.
