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Damien winced. “Must you?”
“Yes. I’m a demon,” Bonbon said, his voice garbled. “We’re all about wrong.”
“Well, now you must be on your best behavior because that MF woman will be here any moment, and I only have a few short hours to show her the ropes.” Apparently, this sex fairy sighting had been near Cleveland, Ohio. His flight departed at noon.
“You’re really leaving me with her?” Bonbon stopped licking.
“You can help keep an eye on the shop.”
“But we don’t know what or who she really is. And who’s gonna feed me?”
Not my problem.“You will have to make do with strangers. I will have her put your bed outside next to the front door on the sidewalk so you can make puppy faces at the tourists.”
“The last time we did that, someone nabbed me and then handed me over to animal control.”
Yes, because while Bonbon looked adorable, he crapped all over the place when he overindulged. “Such a shame you were returned to me.”
Bonbon gasped. “You have no heart. And you’ve hurt my feelings.” Bonbon turned around, showing Damien his butthole. “As punishment, you will scratch my ass.”
“In your dreams.” Damien went to the back to grab a few supplies from the stockroom and finish off the suit he’d been working on all night. He’d already left messages for the other customers regarding their delayed orders.
I loathe disappointing my customers.He pulled out his iron and tailor’s ham to finish pressing the collar.
“Hiya, Jeeves. You ready to get this over with?”
Damien looked up to find MF dressed in a spiked dog collar, XL baggy jeans cinched at the waist, and a see-through fishnet top. Her auburn hair was braided into pigtails with black ribbons woven through.
“Your nipples are showing.”
She shrugged. “What’s the big deal? We all got ’em.”
“That we do.” He walked into the stockroom and returned with a black blazer. “But in my shop, we do not show nipples. Men’s, women’s, or otherwise.” All right, demon nipples, yes. It wasn’t easy to get Bonbon to cover up. Damien glanced at one of the boxes in the corner filled with tiny unused dog sweaters.
Damien held out the blazer. “It should fit. And you can keep it. The client asked me to alter it and never returned.”
“Fine.” MF took the blazer and slid it on. “Now’re you happy?” She spun around.
Not in the least.“May I ask why you wear pants that could double as a tent? You are not a turtle, woman.”
“Who asked you?” she snapped.
“Your clothes. They are crying for help. Can you not hear them?”
She narrowed her brown eyes. “Aren’t you the funny one, Grandpa.”
Grandpa?Damien didn’t look a day over thirty. When he grew out his beard, he could pass for thirty-five tops. But he found his dark facial hair accentuated his hazel eyes and caused too much attention from the ladies—something he tried very hard to avoid.
“I am merely pointing out that you can still repel people and look,” he used air quotes, “scarywithout appearing sloppy. For example, I find being well-dressed sends a psychological message all its own.”I have my shit together.“You’d be surprised how intimidating confidence can be.”
“So, what are you? Dr. Phil’s loser brother, Dr. Phil-o-shit?”
Damien smiled tightly. “Very amusing.”
He turned toward the mirror on the wall to conduct his final quality check before the shop opened. Straighten tie. Ensure hair was properly groomed. No misses on the shave.
Damien pushed his hand over the top of his thick hair. “You will be silent and watch me deal with customers. You will learn to work the register.”
“What about tailoring?”
