Velvet Kisses(40)
Wyatt must sense my unease because he wraps his arm around my waist, touching his head to mine a moment. A breath gets caught in my throat, and the caustic woman—the quasi-sweatshop all dematerialize for a moment. The sentiment is so sweet, my knees liquefy.
Wyatt looks to her. “You mind if we talk alone for a moment?”
“Not at all. I be inside. Let me know.” Red Dawn turns her attention to me. “I send you home vid media kit und samples. If you unhappy—I vork dees girls to da bone ’til dey get it right. Ve no vant customers unhappy.”
And there you have it.
“Dis is business”—she continues—“and ve do vhatever necessary to make client happy,” she says it like a threat before ducking back inside.
“I don’t have the money,” I whisper. Or the conscience to work anyone to the bone, but I leave that out for now. “I can talk to Baya, but we’ve already spent our budget at the thrift store.”
Wyatt pulls me in tight and tucks his forehead to mine. “This is where a business loan comes in.”
“Nice thought, but I don’t think I could get a loan officer to lend me her pen.”
“You won’t need her pen”—he pulls me in closer—“or her loan. You’ll have mine.”
“What?”
“I’m always open for an investment opportunity, and you’ve presented one. It’s a match made in profit heaven.”
I bite down hard on my lip to keep from bursting out in tears of joy. It’s one thing to have Wyatt’s support and another to have him put his money on the line.
“No one has ever been so kind, so considerate to me before.” I swallow down the fist in my throat. “No one has ever believed in me the way you do, Wyatt.”
“Yeah, well.” He traces my shearling lapel with the back of his hand, a forlorn sadness taking over his features. “You’re pretty incredible—smart, beautiful, and you happen to have an eye for a fashion trend that might just be the next big thing. What’s not to love?” He gives a full blooming grin, and my entire body seizes at the sight of this gorgeous man.
What’s not to love? A prickle of joy runs through me, and I wish it didn’t. I wish I wasn’t so easily seduced by that word. I shake my head in an effort to break our gaze. Love isn’t anything real. It’s just another four-letter word that’s overused and poorly defined in our society.
“What’s not to love?” I hold out my hands exuberated by the prospect. “I’ll do it!” I jump, and Wyatt catches me in his arms spinning me right there under the canopy of snow-covered pines, in a white glistening wonderland that sparkles under the sun.
If I had to guess, this is exactly what falling in love feels like.
But it’s just a guess.
* * *
“One more stop,” Wyatt says, peeling away from the sweatshop we’ve just employed to do our first big run of designer up-cycled clothing. Baya and I will come by Monday with our fabric and designs to help the girls get an idea of what we’re looking for. I feel exhilarated, and thankful because, for one, no matter what he says, I don’t think I could have done half of this without Wyatt’s good business sense.
“Anywhere anytime. I’m game.” I run my tongue over my lips as I watch him grip the wheel with his big, strong hands—the exact same strong hands that will be gripping me in less than twenty-four hours. “And that goes for tomorrow, too.” Especially tomorrow. God, it’s like we’re going to have our own twisted little honeymoon—at his place, of course, to be continued in various locales of our choosing, naked calisthenics aside.
“So tell me, Marley, apart from scouting for bedmates, what makes you tick. Any specific interests I should be made aware of?”
“I like to hike.” It’s true. Growing up in a fort of fences, rabid dogs and far more rabid people, hitting the trails was my favorite escape. “I know it’s not the girliest thing in the world, but there’s something about being one with nature that makes my heart sing.”
“Really?” His head ticks back as if he were genuinely stunned by this. “I love to hike, too.” His hand rounds over the wheel as we make a left, and now it’s me who’s stunned. Wyatt has inadvertently driven into the heart of downtown Walleye. Any minute now I expect to see someone I know walking down the street. “Maybe next week we can take our work outside. There are some trails on the south-facing side that aren’t socked in snow. We can do a day trip. The views are stunning up there.”
“I’d like that.” Right now. I would very much like that right this very minute. Wyatt pulls in an all too familiar shopping center and slides into the first parking spot available. The sign on the establishment before us reads Chicken Fried Filet with the picture of a fat ornery bird voluntarily jumping into a bucket.