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It’s time to loosen my grip on the wheel a little.
Time to focus on what really matters in life.
It feels weird, and I can’t help feeling there’s something I’ve forgotten, but I put it down to just being overworked and not used to actually having an entire weekend off.
I’ve already decided that Monday I’m off too. I’ll call the office Sunday and let them know.
For now, it’s all about Ashlee.
My new life.
Our life, together.
Munching on a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, I walk back to her store, annoyed when I see a young couple breezing in off the street.
Hand in hand, gushing over each other, they look like a young couple in love, planning their big day.
Today’s my day though, with Ashlee. And I give them a dark sidelong look as I come back into the store, settling myself behind the counter letting Ashlee know her breakfast is waiting once I catch her attention by holding up her coffee cup.
She looks more than impressed and gives me plenty of time to recognize the fact as she spends time doing what she does best, helping people with their wedding ideas.
I hear her explaining that the owners are sick, hence her filling in wearing only tracks pants and a hoodie, but they don’t seem to mind.
She knows her stuff and in moments the groom to be is explaining what they’re looking for.
The bride glances over, more than a few times.
She’s stick thin and all fake chest with big hair. Like one of those plastic dolls, they give kids to play with.
At first, I figure she might just be hungry, eyeing the paper sacks she knows are full of hot, delicious breakfast treats.
She definitely looks like she could use a proper meal or two.
She detaches herself from her husband to be and saunters over towards me.
“And what do you do?” she asks, trying to sound sultry, giving me the eye but I’m not biting.
Apart from not being my type, Ashlee is worth more than a thousand women like her.
“Store security,” I tell her, taking a bite of my meal before deciding I should be more helpful after all.
For Ashlee’s sake.
“Y’know?” I start up as Princess Malibu Barbie rolls her eyes and turns to leave once she knows I’m not interested.
She spins on her three inch heels, but her face falls again when I pass her one of Ashlee’s cards.
“Ashlee does custom gowns, suits. The whole bit. Anything not to your liking off the rack, she’s the one to make sure your dress really is one of a kind,” I tell her honestly.
A light goes on in her mind.
Custom gown versus off the rack.
She calls out to her man, trotting over and dragging him away from the ready-made stuff, I can hear her nagging him, whining already about how she needs a custom made dress with all the trimmings.
Hubby shoots me a thanks buddy look, but at least it gives Ashlee a chance to leave them alone for a few so she can come back over to me.
Where she belongs.
“What did you do?” she asks in a low voice, sounding unhappy with me until I open her coffee cup and pass it to her, and make sure she has at least a few bites of her toasted maple bacon bagel before I explain things.
“Just a little advertising for Ashlee Baker, Dressmaker extraordinaire,” I smile, letting my hand run up the inside of her legs under the counter, making her jump with a squeak.
“How soon till I can take you home?” I growl into her ear, feeling her yield to my touch. Her mound already hot through her pants, my whole hand cupping her now.
“Once that dry cleaning’s picked up, I’m good to go,” she assures me.
Making a disappointed sound when Barbie and Ken call her back over.
She sets down her breakfast, making me promise to hold that thought, and goes over to them.
I can hear Barbie saying she wants the works, but a custom dress.
Shrinking Ken is gonna have to ask daddy for a bigger loan or get an extra job by the looks of it, as his future wife seems to want to plan the wedding of the century.
Ashlee’s eyes widen for a moment, but she holds herself together, taking their details and jotting down some ideas before they leave after about half an hour.
“Oh my god, Brandon! What did you say to her?” she squeals, gripping me once we’re alone again.
I love it when she grabs a hold of me like this. Love it even more when she smiles, excited.
That passion she has for so many things she’s so good at really makes me so proud of her.
“Just gave her your card and said you make custom stuff,” I shrug, pretending not to make a big deal out of things, and urging her with my chin to eat her breakfast.
