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Then we ate Chinese while she told me more stories about her life, focusing a lot on meeting Hunter, about how she stole his tools because he wouldn't stop making noise when she was trying to sleep, about how he'd tattooed her to cover her childhood scars.
But before long, we were back to my makeover.
I lost count of all the products that she put on my face. Tinted moisturizer, blush, lip liner and lipstick, about ten different eye shadows, liner, mascara.
"Don't move," she demanded, voice grave when she started coming toward me with a sewing needle.
"This seems unnecessary," I told her as she came closer.
"The wands have come a long way, but nothing has ever matched separating your lashes with a needle. Don't move."
When someone was coming at you with a sharp object right near your eye, yeah, you didn't move. Or even breathe.
"Okay. Girl. Yes. Am I too old to say 'snatched'?" she asked.
"I'm not sure I even know what that means."
"My kids would probably say I'm too old, but your face is snatched. Okay. Hair. Then outfit."
"I want to loo—"
"Um, no," she objected, rolling her eyes. "You don't get to see it until I'm done."
She didn't give in, either. No matter how much I begged. She made me dress in my bedroom because the bathroom had a mirror.
I could have found some shiny surface to check out her work, but I was enjoying the intrigue too much. Which made no sense. It wasn't like me. I hated surprises. I always liked to know what was going on, being prepared.
What can I say?
Fiona made it fun.
She almost made me believe she could show me something other than what I saw in the mirror.
Then, hair and outfit done, she did.
"Okay," she said, nodding. "Now you get to see what we see," she went on, bringing me into the bathroom to the full-length mirror. "Open your eyes."
There was a mix of worry and excitement in my system, making me want to keep my eyes closed, stay lost in the fantasy.
But, eventually, my eyelids fluttered open.
And there I was.
Me.
But different.
More polished.
More fashionable.
"Wow," I said, feeling tears burn my eyes.
Was I suddenly a supermodel? No.
But Fee was right.
I wasn't nearly as plain as I had always believed myself to be.
"Okay. Now, to the car!" she declared.
"What? Why? Where are we going?"
"I didn't just spend like two hours making you up so we could sit and eat cold Chinese leftovers."
"Okay, but where are we going? Fee?" I asked when she breezed out, refusing to answer me.
I would get my answer soon enough, though.
Because we parked.
Then we got out.
Then Fiona led me up the street.
"Really, where are we going? This is a weird part of town. There is nothing here."
"Well, not nothing," Fee said, waving up toward the sign on the door of one of the buildings.
"No," I said, stomach plummeting.
"Yep," she said, nodding. "Go get 'em, Sandy," she said, pulling open the door, nudging me in.
I had every intention of turning and rushing back out.
But then there he was.
More gorgeous than I remembered.
Making my heart do that ridiculous little pitter-patter thing it sometimes did when I was near him or when I was talking to him on the phone.
Still, I needed to go.
Get as far away from him as fast as possible.
"Katie?"
Too late.
"No retreat now. I'm sorry but not really, "Fee said before rushing out, abandoning me.
When I turned back, Rush had moved further into the room, his gaze doing a slow inspection of my tight skinny blue jeans, my high heeled boots, my faux corset under a simple deep crimson blazer, the color matching the shade Fee had painted on my lips.
When his gaze fell on my face again, his breath rushed out of him in a way it sometimes did on the phone, those nights when I wondered if maybe he was as affected by the conversations as I was before I convinced myself it wasn't possible.
"Fuck, baby," he said, finally breaking the silence.
All that work I thought I had been doing to move past this, to get over my silly infatuation with him?
Yeah, it all flew out the window.
Because there was no mistaking the look he was giving me right then.
Hunger.
For me.ELEVENRushWork was proving the exact distraction I needed.
I'd worked with King a lot over the years, so I guess I had walked in on my first official day as a full-time employee a little more cocky than I should have.
As it turned out, subbing in when Kingston needed a hand was a completely different beast than getting in on the daily nitty-gritty grunt work.
The fucking paperwork.
I woke up during a nightmare I was having about being under a paperwork avalanche.
That said, all the busy work kept my mind occupied. Which was exactly what I needed.
Because it was doing far too much fucking wandering. And in one specific direction.
