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Damien laughed. “I highly doubt you can sew to such a level.”
“Try me.”
Two hours later, MF had produced a perfect dart, a perfect pant hem, and had sewn a new silk lining into a coat. No hesitation. No double measuring. The woman didn’t even use chalk or pins!
I’ve never seen such a seamstress. Who is she?
“Well?” MF handed him the shirt with the repaired dart.
“Your stitchwork is…adequate. Where did you study?”
“Study? I’m self-taught. I sewed all my own clothes growing up.”
Liar.“All right, well, I must get to the airport. You have my number. Call if you have any issues.”
“What about the dog? What do I feed him?”
Bonbon appeared in the doorway. “Did someone mention feeding me?” MF didn’t understand him, of course. It took a talent for languages and hours of practice to master love-sucking-demon speak.
“There is a small container of fortune cookies under the register.”
“Fortune cookies?” Her brows bunched together.
“He’s a picky eater. Especially when I’m away. Oh, and please be sure to give him a few hours outside each day to enjoy the fresh air.”
She frowned. “This is LA.”
“He loves the muted sunshine.”And the leftover fortune cookies from my daily Chinese take-out orders.
“Hey, um…” MF’s voice suddenly sounded vulnerable and soft.
Damien stopped halfway out the door. “Yes?”
“Thank you for giving me a chance. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m a hard worker. Really.”
He bowed his head, perplexed by her sudden turn. “I only ask that you take good care of my shop, of my customers, and that you air out your nipples on your own time.”
“We’ll see about that, but good luck on your trip. I hope you find what Cimil’s looking for. That woman is scary as hell.”
No shit.“Thank you. I will call tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THREE
The woman’s name was Sky Morales. Thirty-two years old. Dark brown hair. Very attractive face.
No. No. Not attractive.Especially her full lips and ample bosom. She was plain, unremarkable, and definitely not worth looking at. At least, that was the lie he needed to tell himself. His lust was a luxuryshecould not afford.
Keep it professional, Greystone,he told himself.
From her photos on social media, he’d say she was a size ten and enjoyed provocative yet professional clothing—tight tailored skirts, snug satin blouses, lots of cleavage. Not so unusual for someone in the public eye. An independent journalist and entrepreneur with a popular news site, coveted for non-biased reporting:Sky’s Fresh Air News. Transparent, nonpartisan, and independent.
What he found unusual, however, was how Sky had recently received national recognition for publishing a series of investigative reports exposing sex traffickers in California. Why would a woman just hitting her stride professionally go public with a wild story about a winged creature attacking her?
According to the police report and the interview she gave several weeks ago, she had been shopping with her sister at SouthPark Mall, near Cleveland, Ohio, when she was attacked in a sporting goods store.
Yes,thatsporting goods store. Named after a penis.
It was a well-known fact that sex fairies were drawn to places with sexy names: Hand Job Nail Spa, Dirty Hoe Garden Supplies, and Master Bait Tackle Shop, to name a few. Then there were the towns: Climax, Colorado. Bald Knob, Arkansas. Mary’s Igloo, Alaska. Sugar Tit, Kentucky. If the name sounded dirty, a sex fairy could be found nearby despite the lack of anything particularly sexual occurring in these places.
