Costars (New York City Bad Boy Romance) (55 page)

Let
it go, Eric. Just let it go.

“That’s
pretty rich,” I scoff. “I don’t come in here and tell you what to do with your
lingerie section or how to display your shoes. I get that you’ve got some
ideas, but if you want this coming out in a way that’s not just going to end up
costing you time, money and customers, maybe you should listen to someone
that’s been doing this for a while and get off my back.”

I’m
pretty sure I just talked myself out of a job.

“Mr.
Dawson, I think it would be the best thing for both of us if you leave my
office,” she says.

I’m
looking for something to say to maybe smooth things over, but nothing’s coming
to mind.

“And
I think that should happen now,” she says.

“Great,”
I tell her and walk out of the office.

I
just went off on a client. I’ve never gone off on a client—well, not one that
didn’t deserve it.

Yeah,
some of her ideas are pretty naïve, but I shouldn’t have done any of that.

By
the time I get back to the work area, Ian’s showed up, but Lou’s nowhere to be
found.

“Anyone
seen or heard from Lou?” I ask.

Everyone
just shakes their heads.

I
pull the phone out of my pocket and dial the number.

“Yeah,
boss, I’m headed over now.”

“Do
you know what time it is?” I ask.

“I
know I’m running a little late,” he says, “but you wouldn’t believe this party
last night, boss. It was off the—”

“You’re
fired.”

With
that, I hang up the phone.

I
don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I feel a lot better, and I didn’t
have to get in hot water with the client.

What’s
left of my crew looks up at me, this being the first time I’ve ever actually
fired someone.

“There’s
room in the unemployment line if that’s what you’re looking for,” I tell them.

I’ve
never seen my men clear an area so quickly.

Chapter Three

Two Gallons of Regret

Jessica

We’re
three weeks into the remodel, and nowhere near completed.

It
took
them
three days just to get everything surveyed
so they knew what to remove before they knocked down the walls and now that
whole area is a complete eyesore.

I
realize that these things take time, but I’ve never seen such a lazy crew in my
life.

Worse
still, Eric has been fighting me on every little change I want to make to the
project. He keeps telling me that we’re setting back the clock, but this is my
store, and I want what I want.

I
do feel kind of bad about having them dig out that two-foot sunken area only to
have them refill half the resulting hole in the store, but how was I supposed
to know that it wasn’t going to work?

Right
now, I’m walking toward the front, trying to keep as much distance between the
crew and myself as possible. If they see me, they don’t bother acknowledging it
and that’s just fine by me.

When
I get to the front, I ask Linda the same question I’ve been asking her for the
past two weeks, “Slow day, huh?”

“Yeah,”
she says. “You’d think with all the beefcake we’ve got in here, we’d be pulling
in all the unhappily married women in town, but everyone’s afraid of getting
splinters in their eyes.

“What
do you think I should do?” I ask. “I thought the job was supposed to be done by
now, and it doesn’t look like they’ve gotten hardly anything done.”

“This
crap takes time,” Linda says. “My dad worked in construction for a few years
when I was a kid. He’d take us by a build a couple of times a week and it never
looked anywhere near done until it was really nearly done.”

“So
you think I should give it more time?” I ask.

“I
don’t know,” she says. “It’s your store. What I
can
tell you is that if business doesn’t start picking up, we’re
going to run into some serious trouble.”

“Yeah,”
I tell her. “You’re right about that part.”

“So,
do you think I should ask Eric out on a date?”

“You
can’t be serious,” I laugh. “He’s got to be one of the most unrefined person
I’ve ever met. You should hear the way he talks to his crew when he thinks
we’re out of earshot.”

“Oh,
I’ve heard him,” Linda says. “I don’t know if it’s the whole gruff male thing
or the fact that I’ve got some pretty serious daddy issues, but hearing him go
off on those guys makes me think I should start bringing a towel to work.”

“A
towel?” I ask, but instantly I regret the question.

“Yeah,
so I can have something between my legs so customers don’t slip on the—”

“Got
it,” I interrupt. “Like I said, though, at least until they’re done working
here, there’s a hands-off policy regarding the crew.”

“Hands
off?” Linda asks. “So that means I could still use my—”

“There’s
no way to end that sentence that’s going to get anything but a ‘no’ out of me,”
I interrupt again.

“And,
by the way, when you first hired them, you said that I could do whatever I
wanted as long as it wasn’t during store hours. I’m starting to get the feeling
that you might have a little crush yourself,” Linda teases.

“That
is absolutely the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell her.

“Shh,”
Linda says, far too loud to be discreet.

I
look up and Eric is walking over to me.

“Hey,”
he says, “can we talk a minute?”

“Sure,”
I answer, forcing a smile.

We’ve
had a number of talks throughout the last few weeks, and not one of them has
been something that I wanted to hear.

Still,
though, it can’t always be a negative thing. At least that’s what I tell myself
so I don’t claw my own eyes out every time he says those six words.

We
get back to my office and he closes the door behind him.

“What’s
up?” I ask.

“I
just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting over the last
little while. The day that I got this job, I—well, the reasons don’t really
matter. You were right when you said that I was being unprofessional, and I’d
like to make it up to you.”

“What
did you have in mind?” I ask.

“How
about dinner?” he asks. “I’m buying.”

“So,”
I sigh, “you wanted to come in here and apologize for being unprofessional by
asking me out on a date?”

“Kind
of,” he says, “yeah.”

“You
really don’t know women very well, do you?” I ask.

“I’m
sure there’s more than a little truth to that statement,” he says, “but I’m not
suggesting anything salacious. Just the two of us over some good food in a
situation that might just help us get along better. I’m not asking you to move
in or anything.”

“I
don’t know,” I tell him. “Dinner sounds a little familiar to me.”

“All
right,” he says, “lunch, then.
Me
and the guys are set
to knock off at noon, we could grab a hot dog or something.”

“I
don’t eat hot dogs,” I tell him, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Well,
what do you eat?” he asks. “I’m sure we can find something that’ll fit the
bill.”

I’m
a bit suspicious, but he does seem to be trying to make a nice gesture.

“It’s
not a date,” I tell him.

“That’s
fine,” he says.

“It’s
just two people who work together going to grab some lunch.”

“All
right,” he says. “I’ll go tell the guys they can go on break, and we can go get
something to eat.”

“All
right,” I tell him. “Let me get my things and I’ll meet you in the front.”

That
was a mistake, as I can already see the faces Linda’s going to pull when she
sees me walk out the door with the man I just got done telling her was so
unrefined. Maybe she’ll understand that we’re just trying to bury the hatchet.

Okay,
that’s just a pipe dream, but I’m sure it won’t be that bad.

Eric
goes and tells his crew whatever he tells them and I grab my jacket and walk
out to meet him.

Linda’s
chatting him up, no doubt using her signature set of single-
entendres
to try to convince him that she’s what he should be drilling.

“Ready
to go?” I ask as I reach the counter.

“Yep,”
he says. “Where’d you decide to eat?”

“You
two are going to lunch together?” Linda asks.

“Yeah,”
Eric says. “Why?”

“Oh,
no reason,” Linda says. “I just found it interesting, that’s all.”

She
turns to me and very conspicuously winks.

“Are
you going to be able to handle the front?” I ask.

“Look
around,” she says.

I
do and realize that the people I thought were customers were just my
salespeople.

“We’re
screwed, aren’t we?” I ask.

“Pinned
to the floor without any lube,” Linda says. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Well,
at least she didn’t try to invite herself along.

“Where
are you going?” she asks.

“I
thought we might stop and get a quick bite at Carver’s,” I answer.

“Ooh,
romantic,” Linda coos.

“It’s
a work lunch,” I snap and she puts her palms up toward me.

“Have
fun,” she says. “Try not to eat any baby kittens on your way there, boss.”

“Why
haven’t I fired you yet?” I ask.

“Because
you couldn’t live without me,” Linda smiles.

“That’s
right,” I tell her. “I might need you to remind me of that every once in a
while.”

“Sure
thing, boss,” she says and goes back to whatever she was doing on her phone.

Eric
and I leave the store and start walking.

“So,
tell me about yourself,” he says.

“Oh,
not much to tell,” I answer. “I moved here a few years back. When I got to Lady
Bits, well, first off, it wasn’t called that at the time. It was actually a
hipster warehouse.”

He
laughs. “That sounds pretty dreary,” he says.

“Oh,
it was,” I answer. “Nothing but black plastic glasses as far as the eye could
see. I’m pretty sure that most of them didn’t have prescriptions in them.”

“So
what made you decide to go into women’s clothing?” he asks.

It’s
an obvious question that should have an obvious answer, but I find myself
grasping for anything with which to respond.

“I
don’t know,” I tell him. “I guess I’ve always said that I wanted to provide
women of all sizes an option in clothing where they could still get designer
clothes without the designer price tag, but really, I think it comes down to
the fact that I don’t really know how to run any other kind of store.”

It’s
small talk, sure, but it’s kind of nice seeing a side of him that’s not such an
asshat
.

“What
about you?” I ask. “What got you into contracting?”

“It’s
a family business,” he says. “My grandfather started this company about fifty
years ago. My father worked here, all my brothers worked here. It was just kind
of inevitable, I guess.”

“How
many brothers?” I ask.

“Four,”
he says.

I
can’t help but cringe. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Yeah,”
he laughs, “me too. Hey, I didn’t think of this, but does this Carver’s place
have a dress code? I don’t think what I’m wearing really qualifies as
formalwear.”

“No,
it’s just a bistro,” I tell him. “I’ve seen people show up looking almost as
grungy as you, so I think it’ll be fine.”

“Gee,
thanks,” he says. “Like I was telling you,” he goes on, “I really do apologize
for the way I’ve been acting. I let my personal life bleed into my work, and I
want you to know that’s not how I usually do business, and I just wanted to let
you know that I’m glad to be working with you, and I think we’re going to end
up with something really great.”

“About
that,” I start, and I can already see his muscles tensing. I know that means
resistance is probably on its way, but it’s not a bad perk.

“Yeah?”

“I
was wondering if there was any way we could extend the window a little bit
farther than we talked. I know you guys have already cut out the frame for what
we’d already discussed, but as I was walking in today, it really struck me that
people coming from that direction on the sidewalk could see what we have so
much easier if the window went just a little bit farther.”

“How
much farther are you thinking?” he asks.

“Only
like three, four feet or so,” I answer.