From here on out, I’m sticking to my guns.
No guys.
No dates.
No romance at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A gust of salty ocean air whips my auburn hair over my shoulders while I stare intently at the rack of clothes set up on the beach side pier. I run my fingers over the meticulously stitched tees, distressed jeans, and skirts that flutter in the warm breeze, contemplating each of them. Only when I’m completely satisfied do I step back, hands on hips, so I can proudly admire my handiwork.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been working closely with one of the trendy little boutiques in LA to produce some more samples of Franco’s fashion line. It’s always a little tough for me to willingly pass the reins to someone else, but the boutique has done a stellar job crafting the clothes. Besides, it’s not as if I could launch an entire fashion line using my own sewing machine. The great work the boutique has done bodes well for the full launch of the limited line later on in the month. Every article of clothing that I’ve inspected has been sewn masterfully. The last thing I want is for anyone to buy the clothes and be disappointed with the quality, but everything looks fabulous.
This fashion line for Franco’s Burgers has been so different from any other pieces that I’ve designed, and I’ve loved every minute I spent pouring my heart into the stylishly laid-back clothing. I know Franco is going to go wild over every piece. Both his fans and our Glammers will go crazy, too.
I take my phone out and look at the time. Any minute now, the models Franco hired would be arriving to don the clothes and strike a pose for the beach side photo shoot. Between their skill, my camera work, and the gorgeous clothes, we should get some great photos to drum up a buzz about the upcoming launch. Franco has been posting quite a bit on his Facebook page lately, teasing the fashion line, and people are already going crazy trying to get their hands on it. After seeing how popular Franco’s posts were, Sutton set up an online waitlist for everyone who wants to be the first to know when the clothes are officially on sale. It’s already absolutely packed with names and we haven't even shown off all the clothes yet.
So, to say that life has been hectic as we all prepare for the launch is putting it mildly, but I don’t mind. The faster the days pass, the less likely I am to start daydreaming about the tatted, green-eyed biker of my dreams.
I slip my phone in the back pocket of my shorts with a sigh.
Ever since that night he brought the contract to the house and stayed for dinner, it seems like the harder I try to push thoughts of Cash to the back of my mind, the more I get distracted by him. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve looked myself in the eye in my bathroom mirror and told myself to stop drooling over a guy who has no interest in me.
What happened to not wanting to date?
Attempting to concentrate on anything other than Cash is enough to give me a headache. It’s like a light switch flicked on in my head the moment he sat down across from me in that booth at Franco’s Burgers, and now all I can think about is him. Then again, he probably has that effect on women everywhere, so maybe I should cut myself some slack.
He’s texted me a few times about the business deal with Franco, but I’d purposefully kept my responses short and to the point. If I engaged him any more than that, he’d start showing up in my dreams even more than he already is. I can hardly close my eyes without seeing him. I can’t even talk to my besties about it either, because I’m trying so hard to convince Sutton and Kali that I am absolutely not crushing on the sinfully handsome bad-boy in any way whatsoever.
Maybe eventually, I’ll even be able to convince myself.
Shaking my head to try and clear my thoughts, I do my best to focus on arranging the clothes so they’ll be easy to pass out to the models. Luckily, the day is absolutely perfect for a photo shoot. The golden sun is high overhead, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and the ocean’s waves are perfectly cresting. I’ll get the models to lounge around on the beach, romp in the sand, and dance across the pier to show off the clothes. I want this shoot to radiate fun but chill energy so people of all different lifestyles can relate. I want this launch to go well, not only for our Glossed & Glammed reputation, but because Franco has never done anything like this before. I want to prove to him that giving G&G a chance to collaborate is the best choice he’s ever made for his burger shack.
I’m so busy organizing the clothes, double checking my camera equipment, and setting up the scene, that nearly a whole hour ticks by before I know it.
I twirl my hair around my finger, anxiety simmering in my core as I look around for the models. They should have been here ages ago. If we don’t get this show on the road soon, we’re going to miss the fabulous lighting that’s gleaming across the coast. We’re already working against the clock as it is. We’re careening toward our deadline and we’ve got to get these pics up on social media ASAP.
Over the sound of crashing waves, I suddenly pick up the loud drone of an engine revving closer. I’d booked this small strip of the beach a few miles away from Franco’s Burgers for the shoot, so no one else but my models should be headed this way.
I climb up onto the pier and shade the sun off my face in time to spot a sleek, black motorcycle zooming into the nearly empty parking lot. The sexy bike skids to a halt beside my car and the man on it swings one strong leg over the side of it and turns toward me. I know before the tall, muscular figure even pulls off his helmet that it’s Cash.
My heart leaps into my throat and I sway a little on my feet. Somehow, I manage to work up a smile despite the whirlwind of butterflies catapulting through me. To be honest, it’s harder to suppress a smile around Cash than it is to muster one. When he finally walks toward me, I feel as giddy as a teenager. Despite my efforts to be as cool as the expensive faux leather jacket straining over his tattooed and muscled arms, my head is spinning like a carnival ride. I wonder briefly why he wears faux? Mostly because I’ve never seen many Harley riders who don’t wear real leather. Then again, no devout vegan would wear actual leather.
“Hey!” I call, hoping my voice doesn’t give away my shock as I give him a wave.
Cash takes off one black glove to return my wave before removing his second one. His hair is effortlessly tussled from wearing his helmet in a way that is painfully unfair. How can anyone make helmet hair look so good?
He makes his way down the boardwalk and hops into the sand beside me. He faintly smells of oil, sun, and cologne. It’s an intoxicating combination to be sure. My knees start feeling weak again and I lean back against the side of the pier to hide my quivering legs.
“Hey, yourself,” he says, flashing me a grin before his expression grows slightly more somber. He digs his hands into his pockets. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Oh, no,” I groan. Of course, this photo shoot can’t go off without a hitch. That’d simply be too easy. “Let’s just rip off the Band-Aid. Start with the bad news.”
He nods and without leaving me hanging for a second casually states, “The models aren’t coming.”
“They’re not coming?”
My voice comes out as a whimper as I repeat the words. It’s a good thing I’m already leaning against the sturdy boardwalk because if I wasn’t, I probably would have fallen right over.
