Page 19 of The Fallen Man
“Thanks,” he said and went after Dominique.
Caitlin
House of Amery
The team had gone down to the back alley for a smoke break and left her standing on the dais still sewn to an entire bolt of fabric. That was par for the course at House of Amery. The employees didn’t give two shits about the models. She had thought that when they went on break, they would at least let her sit down, but the lace was wrapped tight around her knees, and they hadn’t wanted to disturb the drape of the fabric. They hadn’t even had the decency to tell her when they’d be back; they’d just wandered off. The only person who had looked her in the eye today was the hot guy from the alley who’d been with his sister.
She couldn’t believe he was here. She supposed if he was the kind of person who would go to a Deveraux party, he was also in the tax bracket of those who could afford to shop at the House of Amery, but it still surprised her.
She remembered the twinkle in his eye as he’d stuck out his tongue and smiled. She wondered if he actually recognized her from the alley. For a moment, she entertained the fantasy of meeting a handsome, wealthy Prince Charming who would sweep her off her feet. Caitlin snorted to herself. That was a pipe dream. When had anything in the last three years gone well for her? It had been one long series of bad breaks ever since her mother’s cancer diagnosis. Although, she wasn’t sure her father’s refusal to help was bad luck. Unless simply having him as a father counted was her unlucky moment, in which case she’d been cursed from the outset, and she was definitely not getting lucky with this guy in any sense of the phrase. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that not only was shenotCinderella material, but she was also dressed in underwear, most of a muslin pattern shift, and about three layers of lace. So basically, she was mostly naked. Having Hot Guy come back now would just lead to some sort of horrifically embarrassing incident.
Caitlin looked around and tried to figure out if she could lean against something without tearing any stitches. She had another two hours of standing here. She needed the paycheck, but her feet were already aching. Her only consolation was that she was scheduled for a break about the time Angela and the VAR catering truck were supposed to arrive for some meeting Victor was holding. Caitlin was sure that Angela would let her scam some lunch, which might make up for the breakfast she’d missed when her train had run late.
There was a resounding screech as the fire alarm began to blare. Caitlin jumped but didn’t panic. When was one of these things ever actually a fire? Then smoke began to billow into the room from the doorway down to the basement.
She looked in horror at the smoke and then at the bolt of handcrafted Italian lace that she was attached to.
There was a quick patter of feet, and the hot guy came running into the room.
“Help!” she gasped.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out a hand to help her down.
“I can’t! I’m still sewn to the fabric!”
He followed the trail of lace leading from her to the bolt of fabric and grabbed a pair of scissors off the nearest table.
“Don’t you dare! That is hand-made Italian lace!” she gasped, pointing to the fabric bolt.
“That is a fire!” He pointed at the smoke in turn.
“If you cut it, I will never get work here again!”
He grabbed the bolt off the rack and wound the lace willy-nilly around it until he reached her, then thrust it into her arms.“Hold that.” Then he bent down and grabbed her around the knees, slinging her over his shoulder.
He walked them quickly through the building and out to the parking lot. The rest of the employees were milling about, and when he set her down, there was a cheer, and a press of people surged toward them.
“You saved it!” exclaimed one of the seamstresses. “Billy, get the kit!”
They began to snip her out of the dress form and remove the fabric.
“OK, yes,” said Caitlin. “But I need clothes. No,” she tried to snatch the last piece of fabric covering her. “No, I need clothes!”
She clutched her hands over her boobs and stared at the hot guy as the team left her standing there in her underwear.
He took off his coat and wrapped it around her.
“Hi,” he said as he buttoned the heavy wool coat over her. “I’m Jackson, and I’m suited for talking philosophy in dark alleys, carrying women out of fires in hand-crafted Italian lace, and lending people my coat.”
He was tall, about six foot two, with black hair and blue eyes, wearing a sweater, jeans, and peeking out from a holster on his hip, a gun. His sister had said that he worked security, so presumably, that was OK. Staring into his sky-blue eyes, Caitlin felt breathless. She couldn’t believe he remembered her.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, reaching one hand over the top edge of the coat to touch her fingers to his as they came to the top button. His hands were warm, and his fingers curled around hers.
“I don’t know what they are paying you,” he said, “but I don’t think it’s enough.”
Caitlin laughed breathlessly. “Is it ever?”
He smiled, and his hand slid upward to hold her whole hand. “Probably not. Your fingers are freezing. Maybe we should—”
