Cherry tried to blink back a stinging, salty tear. Fruitless, because where there was one, there were hundreds more. ‘Oh, Sean…’
‘Hey…’ He reached out and wiped the salty drop with his thumb – the best and worst thing he could do.
The temptation to seize that hand as it withdrew, pull it back to her cheek, let him dissolve his mouth into hers and give her one of those ruin-you-for-anyone-else kisses was tugging at her like an anchor in a sea storm. She turned away, brushed her hands down the crimson broderie of her dress.
Sean seemed to sense her discomfort. He relaxed back into the couch as if he knew it would put her at ease. Drank his beer quietly before speaking again. ‘You know, I think you have a hidden talent you’re not telling me about.’
This got Cherry’s attention. She swung round to him. ‘What talent?’
‘This “colour my thingy” thing that your mum does, and my mum is all intrigued by. You must be able to do it too, because everything I see you in, you look incredible. The fit, the style, the colour.’
‘Oh, thank you. I might have picked up a few tricks from my mum. I used to sit in on her parties.’
‘Amazing. You could host an evening of it here. Cheer my mum up.’
‘Och, I’m not sure I’d be much good.’
‘Don’t be humble. I bet you would.’
‘I dunno. I might send everyone home with the wrong colour palette and all the villagers would hate me.’
‘You might inadvertently improve some of the dress sense. And I’m sure they’d all have fun. Tell you what, give me a mini consultation right now and I’ll be the judge of your skills.’
Some of Cherry’s vibrancy returned at this idea. ‘Seriously?Youare going to judgemeon this?’
‘Deadly serious.’
How did he do it? He had this way of bringing her round and making her heart happy again. ‘You’re on, Butler. Go grab some of your favourite t-shirts, and I’ll sort you out.’
‘Far be it from me to argue with a woman who wants to sort me out.’ Sean jumped up from the couch and took the stairs two at a time, returning less than sixty seconds later carrying a bundle of t-shirts in various muted shades.
‘These are your favourites?’ Cherry arched a brow at the garments he’d handed her. Everything was blue, white or khaki.
‘Something wrong with them?’
‘Nope, they’re just very same-y.’
‘Even more of a reason to have a consultation.’
‘True. Okay, we need to decide which of each colour is right for you. Let’s start with blue.’ She draped the t-shirts over the arm of the couch. ‘You’ve got three blue t-shirts here, all in slightly different shades. I’m going to need you to try them on for me, and we’ll see.’
‘We’ll see what?’
‘Which one suits you best…obviously.’
‘Oh, obviously. Forgive me for thinking you wanted me out of my clothes so you could ogle me. Right, come on then. Tell me what to do.’
‘Take this off.’ Cherry gestured to his current button-down shirt. ‘You can go to the other room if you need to protect your modesty.’
Showing no sign of moving to the other room, Sean began to unbutton his shirt. ‘Do people normally take their clothes off in these things?’
‘No.’
‘Just me then.’ His fingers moved rapidly through the buttons. ‘Why do I feel I’m being taken advantage of here?’
‘Because that’s what you want.’
‘Wow!’ He beamed. ‘Victim blaming.’
