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The moment we’re sitting down, I realize what I need to do. My dad always told me to face my fears. That’s how I dredged up the courage to go to design school even though I felt like an imposter. It’s also how I pressed the send button on my application to theFashion Frenemiesshow as well as how I got the nerve to march onto a plane to fly to New York to tape the show. I may be in the middle of nowhere, but that confident woman is still here underneath my fear and bad manners.
“If it’s not too rude, could I see your, uh, teeth? Fangs?” The last thing I want to do now is humiliate him further.
I expected him to snarl at me, you know, malicious compliance, but he does the opposite. He dredges up a big smile. It’s terrifying, no doubt about it, but it’s a genuine smile that reaches his alarmingly beautiful yellow eyes.
He stays perfectly still as I inspect him from my side of the table. Long, multi-colored hair, pointed, furred ears on the top of his head, a furrow from his nose to his upper lip, and those fangs. They’re as long as my little finger.
My heart is racing even though I’m ordering it not to.
“I have a better sense of smell than you.” His voice is low and steady, almost a whisper. “It’s obvious I terrify you.”
“I’ll get over it.” I try to be reassuring. “It’s a skill I’ve developed over the years. Face your fears and keep going.”
“My hearing is better than yours. If you weren’t young and in good health, I’d fear you’re having a heart attack.”
When I glance down, I see my chest rising and falling as if I’d just run a marathon.
“I’m happy to leave,” he offers, his gaze focused on the tabletop, perhaps to make me feel less like prey.
He said he’d be happy to leave, but he’snothappy. He’s forlorn.
“No. It’s fine. You’ve lived knowing about humans for decades. This is all new to me. I may not want to be here,” I gesture widely, indicating the sixty-thousand-acre property, “but I came in good faith. Just give me a little time. I’ll get used to this.”
I launch into my prepared spiel, rising from my chair to give him the grand tour.
“So here at Mane Street Fashions we’ll have floating shelves along this wall.” I feel like Vanna White as I motion toward the wall as if he’s too stupid to know what I’m referring to when I use the phrase “this wall.”
“We won’t move this half-wall. The cash register will sit here as well as point of purchase impulse items like earrings and lip balm.”
I cross to the other side of the room. “This wall will have two clothes bars.”
It strikes me he’s never been in a store before. I’ll have to pull up some pictures on the Internet so he can understand what I’m talking about.
“Shirts up above, pants and skirts down below. And we’ll have round dress racks here and here.”
His gaze is on me, but I don’t think my words are registering. Could I have messed this up any worse?
“We’ll get you a computer and I’ll teach you how to choose inventory. Though I design clothes, I won’t go for anything too radical. Our target demographic is vacationers.”
I’m smiling, feeling better about this. As long as I look at his forehead and avoid even a glance at those fangs, I’ll be fine.
I slide back into my chair and nod, my gaze on his shoulder.
“I’m great. This is going to work out, Tyler. If… ifyou’reokay withme.” Before he can answer, I apologize again. “Really, I’m sorry about my freak-out. It won’t happen again.” I manage a convincing fake smile even as I feel my heart speed up now that I’m only inches from that mouth.
“Although I appreciate your effort, your heart is still racing and the bitter smell of terror circling the room has diminished but not disappeared. I suggest we tell the Colonel that a clothing store is not the right placement for me.”
He’s a tiger-guy, so I’m not sure how I can be sure I’m reading his facial expression right, but although his voice is calm and respectful, he’s feeling like shit about our little encounter.
He’s already risen from his chair and is walking to the door. Gone is the male who came striding in, a happy smile on his terrifying face as he sang a song. His tail, which had been dancing in the air upon his arrival, is dragging on the ground as he slouches out the door.
“Tyler!” I call as his hand hits the door. “Really. All I need is a little time.”
“Some of the males asked for their placements.” His back is rigid as he faces the street. “I was simply placed here by the staff. I’ll find a better fit. It’s fine, Olivia.”
With that, he escapes onto the empty sidewalk.
My lids flutter closed as I release a deep sigh. I feel shitty, but I can’t be expected to control my autonomic nervous system, can I?
