Chapter 20
KOLTON
Shay and Hilary are hunched over a makeshift table at the far end of the room as laborers strip off drywall exposing a layer of original brick. Little evidence remains of the jean shop that occupied this space. In another month, it’ll be unrecognizable.
With Stella and Jackson off to the library, I make my way toward the two women at the back, dust billowing with each step. I drop the bags next to the sketches on the table and study the top one—a bird’s-eye view of the layout.
I position myself next to Shay and swallow a rising groan. Whatever minty stuff she uses in her hair is an aphrodisiac, and the curves she’s rocking? I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Shay naked (yet), but there’s no doubt her breasts are bigger, her hips fuller, and it’s sexy as hell.
“Love the changes,” I say, leaning lower. “To the design,” I add, hoping she can’t read my mind. Or maybe wishing she could.
“Thanks,” she says, still focused on her work.
Her shoulder brushes mine, against the spot her teeth sank into in Aspen. My skin itches with awareness. Not as strong as my amazement over Shay’s talent.
“I like the checkout counter there, centered but visible from the door.” I tap my finger next to the sketched hanging wall.
“Maybe move this left a bit. Leave more room for the accessory section. With Lily’s help, we’ll be expanding it over the next few years.
Once you’ve done that, scan it and send it to Sawyer.
He’s got a better eye for this stuff, but I love everything you’ve done. ”
This Moondog location will be a feast for the eyes. Something people will want to be a part of. When they buy a jacket, they’re not just buying a piece of clothing. They’re buying a lifestyle. An image. That’s what drives sales. And she’s delivering.
A blush blooms on Shay’s cheeks, her few freckles disappearing under a scarlet stain. I’d like to think it’s my closeness heating her skin. By the way she smiles, though, I’d say it’s pride.
My ribs tighten.
When Jackson looks at me with love in his eyes, when he does well in school or I teach him something new, a glow seeps through me. This is similar but different. Being a part of Shay’s success is affecting me in unexpected ways.
Hilary squeezes Shay’s shoulder. “I’m impressed.
Make a list of samples you need Maeve and Ramiro to pick up, so we can finalize finishes.
They should be by shortly. We’ll need a draft done of the hanging wall.
With its angle, you’ll have to vary the shelves on the acute side.
Every millimeter counts. Make sure the lower ones are long enough to line up with the ones above them.
But I love how the layered silkscreen prints will pop off the top.
It will make people feel like they’re cocooned in your world. ”
A guy pounds through the drywall, the sound echoing through the empty space. I gesture to the bags piled on the table. “Hope you ladies are hungry.”
Hilary cringes. “That’s thoughtful, but I don’t eat fast food.” She points a manicured nail at the McDonald’s emblem.
“That’s for Shay, not you.” I sift through the bags and pull out the chicken curry sandwich she mentioned going out for the other day. I hand it over, and she peeks inside.
“Wow, that’s…” Her keen dark eyes roam over my face, as if meeting me for the first time. She runs a hand over her pantsuit. “Thank you. I’m surprised you remembered.”
I shrug and lean over the table, separating the other lunches. “There’s sushi for Ramiro, with the rice on the outside, some gluten-free thing for Maeve, and there’s a whack of burritos in here for the guys. And this”—I grab the greasy McDonald’s bag and hold it out—“is for Shay.”
She’s not looking at me, though. Not even a side glance. Her puckered brows are focused on the other food. Shit. Maybe she’s suddenly gone on some silly diet.
Hilary glances between us, then grabs the burritos and her sandwich. “I’ll take these to the workers.” She raises her bag toward me in salute. “Thanks again. We’ll meet here tomorrow morning.”
I nod and look back at Shay, who’s watching me, my outstretched hand still clutching her lunch.
She cocks her head to the side. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“No. I didn’t. I wanted to do this. You’ve all been putting in long hours.”
“How did you even know what everyone eats?”
I shrug. “I pay attention.”
“That’s really nice of you,” she murmurs.
Her thick-lashed eyes flit back to the other food, like she’s not used to people being thoughtful. And she still hasn’t reached for the bag I’m holding out for her. If she’s not eating fries, today’s plan is toast. Frustrated, I start to tug my arm back.
She shoots her hand out to stop me. “Not a move, Fabio. That’s mine.”
I smile. Game on.
I run a hand through my shoulder-length hair. “I’m doing a shirtless photo shoot later. You should come.”
She snorts. “Only if I get to wax your chest.”
I bark out a laugh, the two of us suddenly grinning unabashedly at each other.
She snatches the bag from my hand and walks over to a nearby bench. She brushes the bench off, not that it does much good with the drywall dust coating every square inch. When she’s settled, she opens the bag, sticks her nose in, and inhales.
Burrito and a couple of waters in hand, I sit beside her and chuckle. “Glad you’re not on some brutal cleanse.”
“I’ve done enough cleanses to last a lifetime.” She pulls out the Big Mac and practically salivates.
I stretch out my legs and cross my ankles. “You don’t strike me as the type.”
She’s about to take a bite but pauses. Something crosses her face—anger?
It disappears quickly. “I’m not, at least not now.
I was with my ex for five years, and he was all into that stuff: stupid diets, keeping up appearances.
He had this passive-aggressive way of knocking me down verbally, and I kind of got sucked into his world more than I should have. ”
It’s the most detail she’s offered about the fuckwit who messed with her head before we met. Shay’s softer than she was in Aspen. Less defensive. Whatever she was dealing with, whatever that dickhead she dated did to her, she seems stronger now.
Tired of tiptoeing around her past, I say, “How did you let it go on so long? I don’t mean to be blunt, but…five years? I can’t picture you knuckling down under anyone, especially that long.” I set my food aside and swig my water.
Taking my lead, she moves the bag and burger to the seat beside her and wipes her hands on a napkin.
“Moving to the city was a big step for me. Lily went to New York to study design, Raven was in teacher’s college up north, and I scraped together enough to get into a design program here.
But coming from a small town where everyone knew me was hard.
I struggled, had trouble making friends.
Couldn’t meet anyone I really clicked with outside of classes. Then I met the Dick.”
“The Dick?”
“Richard. Lawyer extraordinaire.” She waves her hand in a flourish.
I raise an eyebrow. “I see I wasn’t the first man in your life to earn a profane nickname.”
“Or the last,” she says, and I grip my water tighter.
“Just guys I dated recently,” she adds, and I nearly crush the thing.
“Anyway,” she continues, “Richard had a way about him, and made me feel for the first time in a while like I belonged somewhere, to someone. Too much, I guess. I lost sight of who I was in the relationship, didn’t recognize myself anymore.
Didn’t particularly like myself or how he treated me.
Still, it was hard for me to move on, mentally.
Then he dumped me for a newer model, and I took off to Aspen…
where I met an asshole.” Smirking, she tips her head toward me.
I don’t return her smile. “How many guys have you been with since then? Since Aspen?”
One beat. Two. She lowers her voice. “I’ve been on dates with a string of losers.”
I don’t ask if those losers made it to first base, or further. Not something I care to hear. Gradually, I ease my death grip on the water. “I may not have known you when all that went down, but the woman I know now is strong. Independent. And I wouldn’t want her any other way.”
Her hazel eyes glaze, her emotion close to spilling over. Instead of replying, she says, “Tell me something about your wife.”
I lean back, sifting through the memories, some sharp, some fuzzy.
“Marina had just finished nursing school when she got pregnant. She wanted to work in pediatrics. Help kids. She had a big heart—big enough to deal with the anguish inherent in the job. She skied, too. Not as good as you, but she liked it. We had a bad time apart our first year at university, but, mostly, things were easy. We laughed a lot.” By the time I look over at Shay, she’s wiping at the corners of her eyes.
“Thanks for asking. I don’t talk about her much. ”
She places her hand on my upper arm. “Anytime.”
The bench below us hasn’t moved, dust still hangs in the air, but the space between us shifts. Intensifies, almost. The way her touch lingers, I’d say she feels it, too.
“You should eat,” I say through the odd pressure in my chest. “Wouldn’t want your McDonald’s to get cold.”
A nod later, she takes a massive bite of her burger, and I can’t look away from her: the skinny jeans and those high red boots that were latched around my waist the first night we hooked up, her long curls braided down her back. With minimal makeup, she’s the definition of beautiful.
Tearing my eyes away from her, I unwrap my burrito, and for the next five minutes neither of us speaks. The silence is companionable, nice.
As I crumple my napkin, I sense Shay’s attention. I’ve become attuned to her the past week, my scalp tingling whenever she looks my way. It happens often.
“If you don’t finish those fries,” I say, “I’m calling dibs.”
“The hell you are.”
I sit, arms folded, waiting. It won’t be long now. When a grin lights her face, I know she’s found the note I placed at the bottom of her container, a reminder of our time in Aspen:
I have five bathrooms in the house I’m renting. Go out with me.
My heart pounds in time to the hammering echoing off the walls.
Cheeks pink, Shay pulls out the piece of paper and leans back to tuck it into her front pocket. With a sigh, she looks at me and says, “No.”
She stands and walks away, as I expected she would. I’ll give her a day to reread my words. A day to let my intent crack the wall she’s built between us.
A day before stage two goes into effect.