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The way he carries himself tells me he thinks he’s hot shit. It’s almost comical how smug he looks, but I keep my opinions to myself. I would’ve never pictured Gemma with someone like him, and I’m curious what she actually sees in him.
I shouldn’t watch them, but I can’t help it. I notice the surprised look on Gemma’s face as he hands her the flowers, and she sheepishly grins with a quiet, “Thank you.” Mr. Egomaniac places his arm around her and pulls her in for a kiss. While she returns the affection, her shoulders squeeze together before she pulls away. It’s so obvious he’s trying to show off for whatever reason. Instead of witnessing their public display of affection, I turn my back to them and drink my water.
“What’s the special occasion?” Gemma asks.
“I’m taking you to a fancy lobster dinner at Cajun Seafood tonight.”
“Really?” Her voice goes up a notch.
“I’m meeting a client and would love to introduce him to my future wife,” he explains.And there it is...butter her up with flowers and the mention of a nice dinner just to look good in front of other uptight men.
When I turn to walk to the break room, I notice the grin on her face falters, but she puts it back on, forcing it. God, he’s a moron. And this act,fuck. It’s disgusting.
She’s smart enough to see it, but then again, maybe she’s not the same girl I fell in love with all those years ago. He’s using her to show how much of a family man he is while also putting her on display like she’s some kind of trophy. I finish my water, and Jerry comes in with a wide smile.
“You did well today and were an enormous help,” Jerry says. “I think we might get caught up before the end of next week. Thanks for workin’ so hard.”
“Well, thank you again for the opportunity. I appreciate it more than I can explain.”
After we exchange our goodbyes, I decide to leave. There’s no way I’m sticking around to watch the Gemma and fiancé shitshow. Before I can walk past the counter, her man stops me, sizing me up.
“Who’s this?” he asks Gemma, but he’s giving me a threatening glare.
“I’m Tyler,” I answer for her, reaching out to shake his hand. He gives me a million-dollar smile that’s fake as fuck and squeezes my hand as hard as he can. It’s a warning, and I give him the same pressure.
“He’s my dad’s new employee,” Gemma tells him. “So he doesn’t get behind over the summer.”
“I’m Robert, Gemma’s future husband.”
I swallow down a laugh at how obnoxious he is. “Congrats. Well, I gotta go. Nice meeting you,” I say dryly and get the fuck out of there.
My adrenaline spikes as I walk outside past the clean windows and notice he’s talking to Gemma with his arms raised. Intimidation isn’t a good look for him, especially since he seems like the type of guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.
Instead of going home, I stop by Everleigh’s boutique. The front door is locked, so I tap lightly, and when she sees me, she rushes to let me in.
“Hey!” She gives me a side hug before re-locking the door. “How was your first day?”
I laugh with a shrug. “It was work. Got filthy and hustled.”
Everleigh walks around and straightens up racks and refolds shirts that have been picked up and crumpled by customers. I admire what she’s been able to accomplish with her store. It’s cozy and hip, a place she would’ve killed someone to walk through when she was a teen. She offers a number of appealing items—T-shirts, jewelry, dresses, jeans, and even novelty items like coffee mugs and tumblers. All with witty sayings that reflect her personality.
“Was Gemma weird today?” she blurts out. “I mean, with you being there, did she seem like it bothered her?”
“Nah. Not until herfuture husbandwalked in,” I repeat it the same way Robert had.
Everleigh lets out a hearty laugh. “He tries too hard sometimes.”
“No shit.” I roll my eyes.
“He means well, but he’s very concerned about his reputation.”
“I noticed.” Compared to most townspeople, he sticks out like a sore thumb in his expensive suit and George Clooney haircut.
“He’s not Gemma’s type at all. I mean, he’s a good-looking guy, but he’s too old for her.”
That makes me snort because I thought the same thing. “How old is he anyway?”
“Like forty-five or something. Gemma told me he uses Touch of Gray hair dye.” She chuckles. “But you didn’t hear that from me.” She puts a finger over her lips.
