Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Looks like I’ll be busy with Brandon’s jackets and pants from the sounds coming from Mark anyway, so a few dresses to get cleaned and mended is no big deal.
I tell our client I’ll have Cynthia pick up the garments as she’s out that way and have them back to her by Saturday night, plenty of time before their big day.
It’s cutting it close and they sound more than panicked, but it’s what we do best.
Working under pressure.
Casting my eyes over to Brandon again, I can’t help but feel the familiar stab of hurt I get whenever I see perfect people about to make themselves even happier by getting hitched.
He’s pocketed some of my cards, at least, I noticed without him seeing me.
Maybe he knows other perfect people who are getting engaged or married?
Maybe they’ll buy a dress.
Maybe I can keep doing what I love for another week, month, or a year.
Maybe I’ll be a lowly single seamstress the rest of my days.
Woohoo.
Hanging up, I push down all my crappy feelings, ready to get down to work and keep busy. My go-to remedy for feeling sad.
But damn, if Brandon isn’t still the hottest man alive.
Try as I might, I just can’t get that image of his bulging cock out of my mind.
He seems to have tamed himself somehow and is eager to have me fit him out some more, but I really have everything I need for now.
I’m also busier than I want to be, for now, thanks to our latest drama.
“Mark’s started on the pants and I can do the jacket tonight, so it should be ready tomorrow afternoon,” I explain, hearing the sudden change in my own voice.
Moments ago I was gasping, panting for Brandon but now I’ve got my feet back on the ground. If I don’t tell myself he’s not worth it, I’ll end up crying or just begging him to show me his dick, or worse. I just know it.
I have to pretend like I’m not interested, for my own sake.
He frowns, taking in a long breath through his nose as he studies my features. I can feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but tell myself to stop being stupid.
A guy like Brandon is not gonna go for a girl like you, just deal with it.
“You can do it now,” he says firmly. “I’ll wait.”
Don’t do this to me, please. Just go. Put me out of my misery.
“Uh. We have some other clients’ garments to do tonight as well, so…” I manage to tell him, pinching my lips and eyeing the door.
A polite way of letting a customer know it’s time to go, even though in my heart I only want him to grab a hold of me again.
Stop it.
He’s not going to and he’s not worth it.
“So, you just want me to leave, that it?” he asks, looking more confused than upset.
I can feel my face drop, my eyes pleading with his.
No, it isn’t what I want. What I want is for you to throw me over your shoulder, carry me upstairs and have your way with me… But I just can’t.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I assure him, hearing my voice crack and tremble with some emotion.
My hands have started trembling again. And my knees.
I’m shaking like a leaf.
He lets out a low growl. Not happy but not mad either, just frustrated.
I try to tell myself it’s because he wants to save an extra trip back to this side of town. But deep down I feel it.
I know it.
For some reason, this man wants to spend more time with me, and not just to get his suit fitted either.
Deep down I don’t really want him to go. I haven’t felt so safe yet strangely crazy around someone like this ever.
“I can call you when it’s ready,” I chime in as he steps towards the door, only looking back at me in the reflections of the glass before I watch him disappear for the second time in two days.
Crap.
I’ve blown it completely if I ever did stand a chance, but I tell myself it’s for the best.
“You did what?” Mark asks minutes later after, his jaw dropping and his eyes growing wider than I’ve ever seen them when I tell him what’s happened.
He races to the door and opens it, glancing down either side of the street before coming back in and locking it again, dejected.
Brandon’s gone alright.
“I said it’d be ready tomorrow,” I echo back to him, repeating myself. Suddenly more unsure now that I’ve said it out loud.
“Ash. Brandon Silver’s wedding account is the biggest one this year. He’s given us a blank check. We don’t just brush him off and tell him to come back later,” he says, looking angry and then worried. His face turning pale as he answers his ringing cell again.