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Chapter TWO
Carina
“Sweetie, are you with me?” Mellie laughs at my daydreaming.
“Yes, sorry, what did you say?”
“Do you like the blue?” she repeats.
“I guess,” I say, stroking some really soft angora.
“You'd have to look at it in order to elicit an opinion,” she says, but not meanly. “Hon, you aren't still moping over Storm Weathers, are you?”
“No,” I bark. Suddenly coming back down to earth. “Honest, I'm absolutely not.”
I'm glad to be rid of my college boyfriend. That was never going anywhere. It hurt to be dumped by text but only my ego was bruised. The rest of me breathed a sigh of relief. There was no pining over Storm at all but I might start moping over the hunk. Still standing on the other side of many piles of colored garments.
Before I even know what I'm saying, the words fly from my mouth.
“I like my men more mature than Storm. Real men.”
“I knew he was no good the moment I set eyes on him” Mellie adds, not listening to me now. She's lifting more sweaters, checking each at arm's lengths before neatly refolding and setting each one perfectly aligned on its stack.
Speaking of eyes, the guy is now holding mine without mercy. Another sexy smile is twitching at his delectable lips. Is he eavesdropping on our conversation? Or does he know my statement about liking mature men was totally for his benefit?
Don't ask me why I'm crushing so hard. It's not like anything's going to happen with my step-mom standing right beside me, but I can have some fun. And maybe it's my imagination, but it seems that he's only hanging out in the sweater aisle to toy with me too.
I'm sure it's not a case of delusional thinking because as I trail along behind Mellie, moving from one loaded sweater display to the next, he follows in a parallel dance. Like the moon trailing the sun's path. Or is it the other way round?
He's not doing it in an obvious or stalker-y way. He's being very subtle as he shifts his ripped body, but I'm sure he wants to keep me in his sights. Like he's relishing the eye flirt as much as me.
Why can't I do something? Is there no option to run over to where he's standing, drag him to the change rooms and run my palms all over that solid mass of rolling muscle? A collection of gifs rolls across my mind like a movie trailer.
Me lifting a sexy gown from the rack and carrying it to the change room with a sexy glance over my shoulder. Hunk appearing at the door just as I get my boring jeans and sweatshirt off and am standing in a set of luxuriously provocative lace underwear and not the non-alluring big girl pants and sports bra I'm actually wearing.
How he'd shove inside the cubicle, his back to the door and pull me into his grasp. His huge hands circling my waist as his lips cover mine in a steamy mouth lock.
“I knew he couldn't be trusted. College boys can be very self-involved,” Mellie's saying in an endless stream of chatter designed to make me feel better in my perceived slump. “And the one time we met Storm, your father was not at all impressed. He predicted ungentlemanly behavior and he was right on point.”
“You should have said something at the time,” I sigh.
Okay forbidden fantasy to be continued later when I'm alone in my bed.
“But Daddy's never liked any guy I've dated, not once since I was thirteen years old has a guy met his stringent standards.”
“You could be right about – Jared?” Mellie drops the sweater in her hand, then takes it up again to twist it nervously.
Who's Jared?
“Is that? No. It can't be,” she stammers and I notice her cheeks turn pink. “But I'm sure it is.”
What? What's she doing? Walking right over to hot guy. Did she see him looking at me?
“Ohmigod Jared, Jared Helmsley, it is you.”
She's got both palms encircling his thick forearm and a small wave of jealousy floods my core that she gets to touch him.
“It's so good to see you,” she gushes. “I thought you left Denver years ago.”
