“Yes.” He nods, his face serious. “But I know what I’m doing.”
“Really? How?”
He sits down and picks up his laptop again. “Business school.”
“Youwent to business school?”
Mirth lights his eyes. “You don’t have to sound so shocked.”
“I’m not—I mean, well…” I pause, studying him, picturing him behind the bar twirling bottles and flirting with anything with breasts. “Sorry. I guess you just don’t seem the type.”
“And you don’t seem the type to put on an act to get guys to like you, yet here we are.” He levels his gaze at me, daring me to disagree with him.
“Myles—”
“I’m just saying, people aren’t always as they seem.”
I open my mouth to argue again, but he’s right. Ever since that meditation class, I’ve realized some of my judgments about him missed the mark.
The bell on the door trills and a middle-aged woman wearing a polka-dot blouse comes in. I give her a friendly smile then turn back to Myles. “You really went to business school?”
“I did. It was a few years ago now, but yes.” His eyes move over my face and he sighs. “Look, I know you want to do all this on your own, but very few people succeed in business without some form of help or support. You have an accountant, right? You outsource the numbers stuff, because it’s not in your skill set. This is no different.”
“But… why would you help me? I can’t afford to pay you.”
“I know. I want to help. Besides, one day you’ll be earning good money and you can pay me back then.”
“That’s putting a lot of pressure on me. I can’t guarantee I’ll be a success.”
“I think you will. But in the meantime, you could always pay me in… other ways.”
I give him a withering look. “Really?” One minute he’s playing Mr. Nice Guy, offering to help simply from the goodness of his heart, the next he’s suggesting I should sleep with him. I mean, he’s not unattractive, but he’s so similar to Mark that it’s uncanny. He’s exactly the type of guy I would have been interested in years ago—and that’s how I know I’mnotinterested in him now. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“No, not that.” A laugh rumbles from his chest, then he pretends to look thoughtful. “Although, come to think of it—”
I whack him on the arm. “Seriously, Myles.”
He shakes his head, laughing again. “No. I was just thinking…” He places his laptop down again and pushes to his feet, pulling a unicorn-print dress off the rack of my designs. “These are really cool. Do you make them in kids’ sizes?”
“No. Why?”
“Just… this print. Is it something a seven year old might like?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know any seven year olds, do you?”
He nods, saying nothing.
“Who?”
He scrubs a hand over his chin, still inspecting the dress. “My daughter.”
My lips part in shock. “You have adaughter?”
He nods again, not looking at me, then places the dress back with a heavy exhalation. “I don’t see her as much as I’d like. Her mother and I aren’t together.”
A thousand questions flood into my head at once, but I force myself to keep quiet. There’s something about the look in his eye that’s telling me not to ask more. Not now.
“Excuse me.” I almost jump out of my skin as a customer appears beside me.
