Page 12 of Misguided Vows
“It’s lovely to finally meet you, and I’m excited to see what potential this baby has,” I say, looking around the shop. That’s when Will steps into my space, because Lord forbid this fucker is ever ignored.
“You’re not going to ask why I was half naked when you walked in?” he asks.
My gaze flicks to Dawson, who watches us as if it’s the most casual exchange transpiring in front of him. If he’s acquainted with Will he’s probably already acquainted with his less then desirable shit stirring personality.
I smooth a hand over my hair and make sure my long locks are covering the big fucking hickey on my neck from a certain asshole.
“Not particularly. I’m here for work. And why are you here?” I ask, trying my best to remain professional.
“You seemed interested when you were staring for so long,” he says with an arrogant smile, and I pin him with a lethal stare. “Haven’t seen a man without his shirt on in a long time, milady?” His top four buttons are still casually undone, revealing the tight muscles beneath, and I notice a scar on his shoulder.
I grind my teeth with a tight smile as I turn back to Dawson, ignoring Will. I don’t know what the relationship is between these two. At best, I hope they’re friends because this is the most awkward consultation I’ve done. Especially considering all I want to do is fucking strangle Will.
“So this is the space we’re working with?” I ask Dawson, purposefully stepping away from Will, who seems to enjoy invading my personal space. I can hear him chuckling behind me.
“Yes, this is the one.” Dawson ignores Will in the same fashion.
I’m looking at the space, but I’m also distracted by my mind rattling as to why the fuck Will is here. Is it because he got me a foot in the door? There’s no need for him to be here, though. I thought I’d never have to see this guy again, so why am I still having to deal with him? I try to push down the warmth flooding my core as I think back on our encounter on the plane.
The back door opens, and a petite woman with long, honey-colored hair walks in. “I’m sorry I’m late. A few customers lingered at the café.” When she notices me, she smiles, and I’m dazzled by her beauty. Did I just step into runway model Grand Central Station or something?
Dawson and the woman move toward one another—gravitate is probably a better word—and he leans down and kisses her passionately. I look away, realizing I’m watching something I shouldn’t be.
“It’s like that every time,” Will says over my shoulder.
“I didn’t ask you,” I whisper shout back. “And why are you even here?”
“This is my wife, Honey,” Dawson says as they walk over hand in hand. I ignore Will and smile at them.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Honey says. I offer my hand, and she absolutely beams. “I’ve been following you on social media ever since Will suggested your services. Your designs are beautiful. It’s incredible to meet the artist behind the work.”
A blush heats my cheeks, and I can’t help the smile that teases my lips. “Wow, thank you so much. I’m really excited to work with you both.” I can’t help but side-eye Will, who seemsrather smug. Okay, so the fucker really did help me out on this one, but I hate he knows it and is making me feel like I’m in debt to him or something.
“Do you mind if I get my camera out and take some photos of the space?” I ask, already reaching for my bag.
“Of course. Take as much time as you need,” Dawson offers, already preoccupied by his wife. I go to open my bag, but Will picks it up and carries it to the counter for me. I offer him a tight smile. Yes, it’s chivalrous. Is it also annoying? Yes, but only because it’s this man.
I get another glimpse of the tight muscles beneath his shirt and whisper, “Do your shirt up.”
“Why does it bother you so much? Does it turn you on?” Honey coughs, and I know they heard him. “Your cheeks are pink again, and not the ones I want to see.”
Fucking hell.
“Can you leave?” I turn away from him as I open my bag and pull out my camera.
“Why? Can’t contain yourself around me?” he casually says as he leans against the counter, surprisingly doing up his shirt buttons. I can’t help but notice the veins in his hands and internally slap myself because they should not look so fucking hot.
“I’m trying to work here. Look, I appreciate you recommending my services to your friends, but I don’t understand why you’re here.” I step into his space and lower my voice. “I really want this job, and I don’t want it ruined because you’re here being an ass.”
A smile curves his lips, and he looks down at his shirt. “It was a stain.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“On my shirt.” He leans in closer, and my body tenses. “It had lipstick marks on it, most likely from when a certain brunettewas panting harshly into my chest as she fell apart all over my fingers.”
Heat flushes my face again and my pussy starts pounding.
No, no, no.