A pair of young women enter the store and I hold my breath. They flick through the rack of my designs, and one of them pulls a dress out to show the other. They both ooh and ahh over it.
Myles looks at me, triumphant. “See?”
I offer him a tiny smile. “I see.”
One of the women approaches the counter, holding out the dress of mine. “Do you have fitting rooms?”
“Yeah, they’re downstairs. I’ll show you.” I lead her down to the basement and into one of the cramped, dank stalls. God, the sooner I can get out of here, the better. I never noticed before how awful it is down here. It’s amazing what you put up with when you think you have no other choice.
I head back upstairs to find the other woman writing her email address down for Myles. As she wanders off to find her friend, I chuckle. “You know, I think it helps havingyouhere asking for their emails. You’ll get twice as many as I would without you.”
“Oh yeah?” He gives me his cocky bartender smile. “Why’s that?”
“You know why.”
“No,” he says, eyes dancing. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head. He knows damn well what I mean, he just wants to hear me say it.
“I’m really confused, Cat.” He continues to gaze at me, lips twitching. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I fight a smile, reaching for a crumpled shirt on the counter and sliding it onto a hanger.
“Ohhh, I get it. It’s because I’m so cute.” He puffs out his chest, grinning from ear to ear, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Socute,” I say, my voice heavy with sarcasm.
“I knew you thought so.” He looks back down at his laptop and, despite knowing better, I let my eyes track over him—over the muscular curve of his shoulders, the scruff lining his jaw, the concentration on his face as he works. My gaze lingers on his curls, messy in the kind of way that makes me want to push my fingers into them and tug.
His gaze flies up to mine again, catching me mid-stare. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t, and my cheeks warm as little creases form around his eyes.
“I don’t hear you denying it…” he teases.
“This is gorgeous, I’ll take it.”
I pull my gaze away from Myles, to the customer standing at the counter. She’s holding up a fifties pin-up dress, fitted through the body down to the knee, thick halter straps, black polka dots. She’s right: it is gorgeous.
I take the dress from her to wrap it. “I’m so glad you like it. It’s one of my designs.”
“Oh, wow,” she says, handing me cash. “I wish you had more of them.”
I hazard a glance at Myles. As expected, his mouth is curved in a smug smile. Then he pushes the paper across the counter toward the girl.
“I’ve already got your friend’s email address. I’d love yours too.” He gives her a flirtatious grin, handing her a pen. “It’s for the launch of our online store,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.
I stifle a snort as she giggles, blushes, and writes her email down. Then I hand her the dress with a smile. “I’ll have more designs online soon.”
“Great, thanks.” Her eyes flit to Myles, who has now fixed his attention back on his laptop. Poor girl, she doesn’t seem to realize what a menace men like him can be.
When they’ve left and I turn back to Myles with a smirk—only to find him deeply engrossed in his work—I feel a ripple of guilt. He might be infuriating around women, but it’s not fair to call him a menace. The truth is, if he wasn’t here helping me, I’d be royally fucked. I’m hit by a sudden wave of gratitude for his kindness and generosity, and I smile to myself as I tidy and straighten up the store, surprised to find I’m in a great mood.
The cherry on top comes when my phone buzzes with a text from Shane.
Shane: Hey babe, hope you’re having a good day. Can’t wait to take you out again soon.
There’s a little thrill through me as I read his words. Granted, I don’t love him calling me “babe,” especially after only one date. But I can’t believe how lucky I am to have met someone like him—and on Tinder, no less. Talk about a needle in a haystack.
Still, I deserve this. I’ve waited for ages, refusing to settle, and now I’ve met a fantastic guy. This is my reward for sticking to my rules.
