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“You’ve gotta eat.” I caution her, warning her further that she’ll need all her strength with what I have planned for her over the next few days.
She shivers with the excitement reserved for me, but I can already see she wants to get to work on her own projects too.
“Tell you what,” I suggest, hooking those hips in my arms again and pressing myself up behind her as she takes her bagel with both hands again.
“I’ve got plenty of room at my place. More than your little loft attic… We could set up a workshop for you to get going on your own thing in no time.”
My reasoning is sound. She can come stay with me, have her own workspace and she already has two wedding dress orders in less than twenty-four hours. Plus 10K in the bank.
What’s stopping her?
I can feel her tense up, and noting her expression in one of the store mirrors, I decide not to press her on it now.
Except for the bulge in my pants. I can’t help but press that into her, which she doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Just think about it,” I whisper to her. Settling myself down on a stool as she leans against me. Both of us enjoying each other and our breakfast.
Chapter Nineteen
Ashlee
Every time I mention Brandon’s suit today he just makes a face. It’s clear he’s only interested in one thing from now on, me.
And he’s constantly checking his watch against the clock in the store, looking at me with a knowing grin on his face.
In between that, I’m dealing with a busy Saturday morning and early afternoon crowd, filled with eager brides who want to pick my brain.
The dry cleaning arrives finally and just as well. The Canning family all turn up, all looking worried as hell until they can see their gowns perfectly cleaned and repaired without any sign of damage.
Although Brandon and I did laugh out loud when the dry cleaner dropped back the wedding dress.
“That was some mess,” she exclaimed, clicking her tongue and raising her brow.
“Looks like it’d been savaged by a pair of wild animals.”
Yep. I can safely say it had been, even after those dogs had walked all over it.
Once the Canning party leaves, satisfied and grateful they can have their special day as planned, I get a call from Cynthia, who still sounds terrible but lets me know her sister is handling everything from now on.
“Take a few days off, kiddo. You’ve earned it. And thanks,” she sniffs. “We’ll see you on Tuesday. Well. One of us will. We can’t afford to be sick for longer than that,” she adds before hanging up.
Brandon’s already bolted the door and flipped the sign to ‘closed’. His low growl and devilish grin signaling me that I’ll be lucky if he can wait until we even get to his place before he continues where we left off last night.
Brandon instructs me to pack a bag and offers to bring his truck around so I can load up my sewing gear if I want to.
I pass on that, deciding a few days with my new man is just what the doctor ordered.
The dresses I have on order can wait a couple of days.
Brandon means way more to me than stressing about work right now.
I’m still shaking as I pack, nervous and excited to finally be going someplace different with the man of my dreams to boot.
Picking and choosing what I’ll take, Brandon, takes the time to repair the door hinges and again offers to move most of what I have in one trip.
“Let’s just see how it goes, huh?” I offer cautiously.
I can tell he wants all of me, and all in one day. But I guess I’m just a stickler for needing to make sure it’s all gonna work before changing everything permanently.
Me going home with him is enough for now, and I’ve never seen him smile so much as when he helps me close up the store and put what few things I decide to take in the back of his truck.
Pulling away from the curb, his phone rings, and noting the caller he answers on speaker through the truck’s dashboard, murmuring to me that he has to take this call.
As soon as he starts to speak, I can hear his voice change, like he’s just remembered something.
“Hey, buddy!” he answers with enthusiasm but trails off.
Once his friend replies, I join the dots.
“Brandon? Where the hell are you? Is everything alright? I mean, you promised… The wedding rehearsal. Two o’clock…” the voice on the phone snarls, trembling with emotion that isn’t sad or upset.
The guy’s mad as hell.
Brandon grimaces, making a fist and bopping his steering wheel, his shoulders sagging like he’s had the air sucked out of him.
“Ah Jesus, sorry Brett. I totally forgot.” He explains, glancing over at me briefly. The corner of his lips pulling in an attempt at a smile.
