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“You decided.”
“Yes.” His puzzled expression made it obvious he didn’t get it.
“You can’t just make a decision like that for me.”
“Why wouldn’t you agree? You want to design costumes, and I’m giving you a chance.”
That really was how things worked in Darius’s world, wasn’t it? “If I land a theater job, how am I going to have time to do that, assist you all day, and design costumes for your shop?”
“You won’t be assisting me.”
What did that mean? “You’re firing me?”
“What? No.”
Marc stared at him. “What is up with you today? Doughnuts? Since when do you bring treats to work?”
“I was celebrating life.”
What the fuck? Marc just looked at him, unable to come up with anything to say to that.
“Fuck, that sounds crazy. I don’t know what’s up with me.” Darius looked hurt, but Marc had no idea why. He was the one being an arrogant ass, as usual.
“Look, I’m thrilled you want to sell my costumes, but—”
“I’m a right git, okay? I should’ve asked first.”
He was saying the words, but Marc wasn’t sure he really got it.
“Your designs are amazing, and I want to take this business in a new direction. I want you to be a part of that.”
Maybe it didn’t matter if he got it or not. This was an amazing chance, and Marc wasn’t going to turn it down. “I’d like that.”
“You would?” For all his bluster, he actually looked surprised.
“Yes. You really think my costumes would sell?”
“I do. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
Offer wasn’t exactly what he’d done, but Marc was trying to be the mature one. “Women’s costumes too?”
“Yes. Despite stereotypes to the contrary, most of my customers are straight.”
That did seem to be true, and expanding the store’s offerings made sense if Darius wanted to try something new. “Are you thinking rentals or sales?”
“Both. Sales initially until there’s time to build up some inventory, but rentals should work well since I already offer limited tux rentals. We could also pair with Riley for any catering opportunities that involve fancy dress.”
“Do we have enough space?”
“For now, and if things go well and we need more… We’ll just see.”
Wow. This was all happening very fast. “You told Mr. Reisner to call in a week, but we shouldn’t rush this.”
“True, but we shouldn’t pussyfoot around until you talk yourself out of it either. You’re talented, and you need to use that.”
Maybe this strange mood of Darius’s was a good thing after all. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Darius huffed. “I’ve said some very nice things.”
“Yes, but they were all about my ass.”
“I complimented your sketches.”
And his mouth, and his— “Thank you for encouraging me.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s get some work done.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next weeks passed in a flurry of sewing. Orders from Darius’s customers picked up as they headed into fall and the holidays approached, and Marc got the theater job as well as a number of orders from the shop. There were plenty of days when he and Darius didn’t even have time for their usual after-work, stress-relief fuck, though they did manage to fit in a few more movie nights.
They worked their way through the ’90s, watching Pretty Woman, You’ve Got Mail, and Notting Hill. They both adored these fictional relationships, but on the subject of what was happening between the two of them, neither one of them said a thing. Did Darius really think they were just fuck buddies? Marc didn’t have the nerve—or for now the time—to ask.
A few days into December, Marc and Darius were hard at work during a lull between clients.
Marc looked up and realized Darius was staring at him. No, not just staring, giving him That Look, the one that said he had less than ten seconds to strip and bend over because Darius was desperate for his ass.
“Lock it.” Marc motioned to the workroom door.
Darius grinned. “Fuck, yes.”
Darius had just pushed Marc’s pants to the floor when the shop door chimed.
“Darius? Are you in the back?” It was Clarice.
“Oh, shit!” Darius grabbed his shirt and buttoned it frantically. “Get dressed as fast as you can. And try not to look like we were about to fuck.”
Marc tried not to laugh as Darius fumbled with the lock. Clarice was the only person who ever got Darius this nervous.
“There you are. I brought you some lunch,” Marc heard Clarice say. “I thought that might cheer you up, and there’s enough in there to share.”
When Marc stepped into the front room, he offered his hand. “I’m Marc. We met once before.”
She gave him an assessing look. “I remember. It’s nice to see you again. He’s got good manners, Darius. You could learn a thing or two from him.”
Darius looked like he wanted to tell her to fuck off, but Marc suspected he wouldn’t dare.
Whatever was in the basket she’d brought smelled so heavenly, Marc was ready for lunch right now, even though it was only ten thirty.
