Page 14 of Love and Other Risky Business

The job I have now is safe, even if it’s mind-numbingly dull and the supervisor is a nightmare.

“Maybe it’stime,” Charlotte whisper shouts at me. “Wild Things.”

Lexi nods enthusiastically.

It’s not time. My side hustle is doing well, but it’s still a baby, and as much as I dream of running my little business as my full-time job and making enough to live comfortably off it, that’s not possible yet.

I started Wild Things out of necessity, making comfortable period panties out of scrap fabric because my flow was heavy and relentless. I made some for a few friends. Then their friends. Then a few pairs of cute, comfortable regular panties. Since I used scraps, I kept my costs low and the extra income added a layer of security.

When it got out of control, I turned it into a subscription service. Four times a year, my subscribers get a package containing two pairs of regular panties of their choosing, in styles ranging from thongs to boy shorts, and one pair of period panties. I source the fabric from the big boys of the LA fashion industry—stuff that would otherwise end up in a landfill—so every package is a little different and my overhead is low. Streamlining my workflow into quarterly releases helped my productivity, and I’m making pretty good money these days, but I have to keep on schedule. If I fall behind, I’ll have angry customers and Wild Things won’t be strong enough as a brand for me to expand.

Hence my call to Charlotte and Lexi. My deadline for choosing the colors for the autumn line is today.

“So which do you think?” I ask again, propping my phone against my handbag so I can hold the two cards up at the same time. Each one contains five swatches and a couple of sketches for a little embroidered embellishment.

“The one on the left,” Lexi says, predictably going for the bolder, darker colors.

Charlotte moves closer to the screen, squinting. “The right.” Of course, she picks the softer jewel tones.

Dammit. I knew this would happen. I should just call Timothy. He’s my usual sounding board for Wild Things. He has a way of talking me through things until I figure out what I want. His encouragement got me through that first rocky year when I was still figuring things out. Plus, he makes me laugh at myself, and right now, I really, really need a laugh. And a hug.

We haven’t spoken since Saturday night. We don’t speak every day anyway, but this feels wrong, like unfinished business hanging over me.

He didn’t ask me out. I sigh for what has to be the eight-hundred and twenty-third time today. It’s like he closed a door I thought would remain open forever. I liked it open, with its fresh air and possibilities. I want to bang on it and demand he open it again.

Which makes me a selfish asshole, since I have no intention of ever taking a risk and walking through that door.

No, I want him to ask me out every year, whether he means it or not because I like the idea of being someone Timothy wants.

I’m not happy about this. I need to be a better friend. God, if he had real feelings for me—and I still don’t think he does—then I’ve been a real asshole to him.

I should text him.

“Lunch is almost over,” I say to Charlotte and Lexi, tossing my cards into the back seat of my car. “I need to get back. Thanks, ladies.”

“When’s your date with the twenty-five-year-old hottie?” Lexi asks.

That shouldn’t make me feel guilty, but it does. “I’m not going.”

“Why not?” Lexi demands.

“Because she’s holding out for Timothy,” Charlotte answers.

“I’m not holding out for Timothy,” I say, rolling my eyes and sipping my iced coffee. “There’s no spark with Dex. Plus, he’s a stuntman.”

Lexi blinks at me.

“I like guys who keep their feet on the ground,” I say to her, shutting the hatchback. I lock my car and head back across the parking lot. Nan said some variation of that—surround yourself with people who keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. She meant it literally. My parents died in a climbing accident when I was four. Nan wanted to protect me from experiencing that kind of heartache again.

“Sooner or later someone is going to come along and make you take a chance,” Lexi warns.

“Yeah, well, it won’t be a stunt guy.” I down the last of my iced coffee and toss the cup in the garbage as I walk by. It won’t be Timothy. So what if I haven’t felt the slightest attraction to another man since Matthew McCheating-Asshole? I can handle the loneliness.

We end the call, and I have just enough time to send a quick text to Dex.

Mina: I’m sorry, I can’t make our date this Friday. I’m not in a good place for relationships or dating. Hope we can be friends.

There. At least that’s done. I turn my phone off as I step into the wardrobe department, and when I reach my workstation, I stuff it into a drawer.

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