I sag back against the booth, raking a hand through my hair. I don’t know what I’ve done to annoy him, but really, this is none of his business. What does he care?
He turns to me again, his steel-blue eyes sharp in the dim light. “So you’ll be sleeping with Shane soon, then?”
I’m taken aback by the bluntness of his question, my head already clouded and fuzzy. “Well, yeah, but not for a while. Can’t give it all away too soon,” I say, chortling at my own joke and hoping to see a smile crack his flinty facade.
But Myles simply nods once, his eyes darting over my face. “That guy…” He shakes his head then leans a lot closer. “Just make sure he deserves you.” As he speaks, his lips brush over my ear and goosebumps erupt across my skin. A pleasant feeling rolls through me, settling over my thighs.
Shit, I must have drunk alotmore than I realized. It’s the only explanation I can give for the way I feel light-headed and breathless all of a sudden.
I pull back, trying to shake off the sensation. Dragging my eyes up to his, I expect to see that self-satisfied smile on his mouth, but it’s not there. His dark, piercing gaze is unsettling.
An uneasy laugh rushes up my throat as I reach for a glass of water. “I will,” I say, gulping the water down. Ah, that’s better. All that vodka was making me woozy.
Cory walks past the booth and Myles glances at him, pulling away from me. “I’ll come by the shop tomorrow and we’ll work on the site?” he yells over the music.
“Sounds good.” I smile, relieved to finally see his lips lift into a smile too.
He stands and clears the table, then heads back to the bar without looking at me again. I gulp down another glass of water, trying to get my head on straight. Because I didn’t like that odd sensation I just felt one bit.
12
Ican’t believe it—Hayley’s fliers worked. I’ve had loads of customers already, so much so that I’ve hardly had time to sit at my sewing machine. But I don’t mind; I’ve sold more this morning than I have any morning these past few months.
I’m so rushed off my feet that I almost forget Myles is coming to work on the site before he goes to Bounce later. When he pushes into the store, his eyebrows shoot up. He has to actually squeeze between customers to get up to the counter.
“Hey!” He slides onto a stool, pulling his messenger bag off his shoulder. “It’s packed in here.”
“I know!” I’m practically beaming as I wrap some pants for a customer.
Myles leans toward the woman, wearing his trademark grin. “We’re going to be opening an online store soon.”
She smiles. “Oh, that’s cool.”
He pulls a sheet of paper and pen from his bag, sliding it over. “If you’re interested, put your email address down here and we’ll let you know when it launches.”
She adds her email, then reaches for the bag from my outstretched hand. “Thanks.”
“Have a great day!” I turn to Myles with a chuckle as the woman walks away. “We’d better get to work if you’re going to start telling people about us already.”
“We are.” He gestures to the sheet of paper. “Get people to put their email addresses down there, and we’ll create a mailing list. That’s the best place to start.” He pulls his laptop from his bag and sets it down across his knees. “That way when it’s time to launch, you’ve already got a whole bunch of people waiting to buy from you.”
“Huh,” I say, running my eyes over him. Today he’s in his usual faded jeans and a fitted crimson T-shirt, his black cap perched high on his head, tilted up so a few curls peek out the front. I’m still finding it jarring to hear him say stuff like that. He looks like a skateboarder, or something—not like someone with an MBA.
He glances up at me and his mouth slants into a smile. “Also, I had a thought.” Placing his laptop onto the counter, he stands, gesturing to the rack of my designs. “May I?”
I nod, curious.
He takes a moment to look around, waiting for a break in the flow of customers. Then he wheels the rack up the store toward the front, shuffling a bunch of shoes and a hat stand out the way, positioning my rack of clothes front and center. He steps away to inspect his handiwork, then wanders back to the counter. “I want you to stop hiding those all the way down the back.”
I raise my hands to my hips. “I wasn’t—”
“Yeah, you were.” He takes his cap off and places it onto the counter, raking a hand through his hair. “But we’re building your new brand around your work, so let’s make it the focus of your store. If you keep being this busy you’ll run out of vintage stuff soon enough anyway. Keep building up your designs and we’ll work with those.”
I glance over at my rack of clothes and feel an uneasy pang in my gut. They’re the first thing a customer will see when they enter the store now, and for some reason that makes me a little nervous. Look, I know they’re good—I know I’m a good designer and seamstress. But it’s hard to put your creations in someone’s face and hope they’ll love them as much as you.
Still, Myles is right. This is the future of my business and it’s time to embrace it.
“Fine,” I relent.
