We both give the faintest of smiles for our goodbye. “See you around, Coach,” she rasps in passing as she walks awaywith a sway to her hips. I don’t even think it’s forced, she is just a natural tempting creature.
My jaw flexes side to side as I take a moment for myself.
I know one thing for sure. At tomorrow’s practice they are going to catch hell, because I need to work out some frustration that I didn’t get to touch the woman currently walking away.
CHAPTER 2
GRACIE
Zipping up my purse, I sling the strap over my shoulder. My mom is in the corner of the boutique, busy comparing material swatches against one another, and I’m not even sure she notices that I’m about to leave. She’s in her zone. Piper Arrows is a vision of elegance. I hope to have received her genes when I get older, down to her thick hair that still falls below her shoulders. Not many women can pull that off with age. She is also quite a bit younger than my dad.
“I’m going to head out, I promised to meet Lainey,” I say as I approach the door.
“Have fun.” She doesn’t even glance up as her concentration remains.
The corner of my mouth snags to form a smile because she is just talent and kindness all rolled into one.
I’ve learned from the best, and I’m in love with working on my current creations—dresses with a sophisticated classic feel. I also have new design software that I’m getting the hang of. Still, I prefer my little notebook of sketches. It’s part of the tradition. My mother and late-great-grandmother havepassed down the ritual, whether they intended to or not. My great-grandmother arrived from Europe and worked her way up from seamstress to a woman with a designer label, and she would carry around her journal when observing people. Many would assume I’ve gone the easy route and stayed in the family business, considering my mom is already established with Piper Ginger, partly named after her. But you can’t fake design ideas. Plus, we have a different style, and I’m still learning in some ways.
Closing the door behind me, I can still hear the bell jingle above the door. Taking a few steps toward the corner of the street, I glance down while I tie the belt of my oversized sweater.
Suddenly, I feel a strong bump against my shoulder because someone else just plowed into me.
“Sorry,” we say in unison as we both steady our footing.
My eyes scrape up because it’s that masculine voice that sears through every tingle inside of me. I’m met with the vision of dark hair, and his whiskey-brown eyes are electrifying, lit today with a flare because of recognition, but I swear I notice something more sinister. He could strip me naked with only his gaze.
“We meet again.” Asher smirks lightly. He’s standing before me with dry cleaning draped over his shoulder and his fingers wrapped around the hook.
I blink twice, and a light switch is flipped inside of me. My brows shoot up, and I feel my own smirk crawl on my face. “So it seems.” It lingers in the air because neither one of us looks away, and the brief silence feels as though we are testing the waters. I’m not even sure for what.
“Not planning your wedding with the rabbi?” he teases.
I smile that he remembers. “Nah, he doesn’t know how to use a stick, so that’s a no-go.” His eyes grow wider. “Ahockey stick,” I clarify, but I enjoy that his mind just went off track.
The instant attraction is concerning, the way it takes over my entire body. It’s overpowering. That is exactly why I tear my gaze away. “You’re carrying dry cleaning.” My jaw goes slack.
Asher’s face squinches. “Why do you make it sound as though it’s strange.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just kind of assumed you would have someone do that for you. An assistant, housekeeper, though we established there is no girlfriend, so that option is off the list.”
His smirk morphs into a grin, and I’d like to think that he is enchanted by me. “Well, I wear a lot of suits for games, and I am a normal forty-year-old man who can manage errands just fine.”
My lips stretch a line. “Forty. Good to know.”
“As opposed to your…” he preambles.
“Twenty-seven… I’m twenty-seven.” I smile.
“Good to know.” He cranes his neck and skims his eyes over my shoulder. “That’s where you work?”
I follow his line of sight and land on the boutique. “Yes. That is where the magic happens,” I proudly answer. His mouth opens but then snaps closed. I squint my gaze to get a better read on his mind. Then it hits me. “The design magic.”
“Right,” he voices tightly. “Interesting displays.”
Looking back, I notice my mother staring through the window with a puzzled face, only to shake her head to herself and return to her task at hand. It isn’t her that Asher notices, though.
“Can’t handle a little black lace and stockings?” I ask. The mannequin displays a classic collection,the type of lingerie that never goes out of season. The holiday-focused display will go up next week.
