Page 5 of My Faire Lady

Sweat glistens along her hairline, and a white scar hugs the curve of her eyebrow. It’s striking, like it was put there on purpose. A tattoo of sorts.

The man clears his throat and loosens his collar.

The knight whirls on him. “Absolutely not.”

“Just consider it,” he says, meeting her glare.

I furrow my brow and glance between them. As they exchange whispers, I toss the crumpled pile of soggy napkins into the nearest trash can. They hit the bottom with a wet thud, and I try to dry my hands down the sides of my skirt, but they only come back sticky.

“Let’s go home and get into our pajamas,” Kelsey says. “We’ll have a movie night with pizza.”

I shake my head. “Don’t you want to see the, um—” I pull the map from her pocket, but the ink is smeared, the paper soggy.

Kelsey bumps me with her hip. “It’s fine. I’m starting to get a sunburn anyway.”

Lie. I watched her slather on profuse amounts of sunscreen before we left the house. My sodden clothes weigh heavy on my shoulders, but an ache unrelated to the ruined corset spreads across my chest, prying at my bones.

I hate letting Kelsey down.

Tossing the map into the trash, I nod and follow her away from the bar, my hem picking up far more than twigs now.

“Wait!”

Pausing, I wring my hands together and turn as the man catches up to us. Over his shoulder, I catch the eye of the knight, and my stomach somersaults.

I swallow, turning my attention back to the…king? “Yes?”

“I’m Boden.” He offers a hand. “We’re in need of a new seamstress—one who knows how to make authentic period pieces.”

I accept his hand, hiding my wince at how cold his touch is. “Lottie.”

Kelsey lifts a brow and tilts her chin toward the empty bar. “It appears you’re in need of more than just a seamstress.”

He sucks in a cheek. “We’re a little short staffed at the moment, but if you want, you could fill both positions and make twice the tips.”

The knight stands still behind him, her face unreadable as she studies my reaction. Is this what they were arguing about? Offering me a position?

I chew on my lip. It could be fun, practicing and experimenting—honing my craft outside the bounds of my bedroom. But I shake my head and hike my skirt out from under my boots. “Sorry. I already have a job.”

He circles in front of me, cutting off my steps. “It’s only the weekends, and only until the end of summer.”

“She said no,” Kelsey says, eyes piercing him as she presses her palm against his chest and eases him away. “So please, take your plastic crown and fake elf ears and go hire someone else.”

The man doesn’t flinch, but a shadow flits across his face, something swimming within the depths of his eyes. Through clenched teeth, he grinds out, “They’re fae ears.”

She rolls her eyes and slides the fallen strap of her dress back onto her shoulder.

Huffing out a breath, Boden digs into his pocket and produces a torn piece of paper and pen. He scribbles a note and presses it into my palm.

“If you change your mind, here’s Scarlet’s number.” He nods toward the knight. “She’ll pick up at any hour.”

Scarlet.

I spare a glance over my shoulder, where she stands with her helmet balanced against her hip. Our gazes lock for a heartbeat, and I look away, snatching the paper from his hand.

“I’ll think about it,” I lie.

I pocket the paper and offer him a polite nod as I scan the area around my feet, careful to steer clear of the root that sent me flying into Scarlet’s armored chest.