Truly, Madly, Whiskey(8)
She dug in her bag for her keys. “That’s impressive. I’m surprised there haven’t been articles about you guys.” Finally finding her keys, she unlocked her car door.
“We don’t want press. It’s all about helping the victims.” He stepped closer, and she backed up, giving him a clear signal that whatever had scared her off in Woody’s was still hanging around.
“I had a nice time tonight,” he said. “Thanks for letting me dip my fry in your shake.”
She smiled and shook her head, her eyes sliding to the ground. She looked adorably sexy. Another glimpse into that softer side of his tough girl.
With a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face so she had to meet his gaze. “That goes for you, too. If you don’t feel safe at any time, any hour, you know you can call me.”
She looked at him for a long moment, as if she was struggling to decide if she should make a smart-ass remark, or go with the heat between them. It seemed to be the look du jour.
A smile crept across her face, and she climbed into her car. “And feed into that big head of yours? I don’t need protecting, but I’m glad you’re helping that little boy.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. He’d snuck kisses like this a few times, but it always felt like the first time. His lips lingered on her warm skin, soaking in her feminine scent. “You haven’t seen my big head yet, sugar. But I’m pretty sure you’ll like it even more than the one you’ve been staring at all night. Drive safely.”
She closed the door and rolled down the window. “Why do you keep texting me your name?”
He felt himself grinning. “I may have been out of sight, but I’ll make damn sure I’m not off your mind. ’Night, sugar. Drop me a text to let me know you got home okay, and lock your doors.”
She rolled her eyes. “I will if I want to.”
“Oh, you do.” He blew her a kiss, listening to the sound of her locks clicking into place and wondering how long it would be before his phone vibrated with a text.
Chapter Two
CRYSTAL SPREAD THE designs she’d been working on out over the table at the boutique Thursday afternoon and stepped back, giving Gemma room to assess them. A few weeks ago Gemma had mentioned wanting to expand the boutique, and they’d discussed several options, including creating and selling their own costumes. Crystal had gone to college for business and fashion design, and she’d tinkered with designing her own clothes ever since. She had transformed her dining room into a quasi design studio when she’d first moved in and had been dabbling in making her own clothes ever since. Recently she’d begun playing around with a few new costume ideas. They purchased costumes in bulk from large suppliers, which allowed them to keep a nice variety in stock.
“Wow, you’ve been busy.” Gemma tucked her brown and gold hair behind her ear, studying the designs.
Princess for a Day was Gemma’s brainchild, and what Crystal loved most about it was that it had nothing to do with stereotyping girls as frilly little princesses and everything to do with enabling girls of any age to become whatever they wanted, at least for a few hours. They offered costumes for just about everything, from rockers and academic princesses to construction workers and goth princesses. Girls could dress up in leather or lace, tomboy outfits, and just about anything else they could dream up. As Crystal thought up new designs, she realized that with their own designs, the possibilities were endless.
Gemma and Crystal wore the costumes they offered, and Crystal loved when Gemma pushed her outfits beyond the proper confines of societal norms. Today Gemma wore a fancy Snow-White-meets-Lolita princess costume, complete with white thigh-high stockings, shiny black Mary Jane’s, and a short dress similar enough to Snow White’s for children to make the only connection they should. Even though they were best friends, Crystal’s goth cheerleader outfit, complete with fishnet stockings and a black spike choker, underscored their differences. But while Gemma wore the outfits that rang true to who she was inside and out, Crystal’s were only partially driven by who she was. They were mostly derived from the persona she needed to convey in order to feel safe.
“These are just sketches,” Crystal finally responded. “But I think they’ll add a unique flair to the princess realm. I took the warrior princess idea from Game of Thrones. You know that tall, sword-carrying blonde? She’s my inspiration. I think lots of little girls dream of being that kick-ass. And the snow goddess is one of my favorites. We can make the boot covers out of white faux fur, and give the girls a choice of a long flowing dress accented with gold and sparkle appliqué to simulate snowflakes, or a knee-length outfit with tights. I love the nerd princess idea, and the banker princess, because, let’s face it, some girls are number ninjas.”
She fidgeted with the jagged edges of her skirt, anxious to hear Gemma’s thoughts on her designs. In the silence, her mind drifted back to last night. She hadn’t texted Bear when she’d arrived home, as he’d asked. She’d wanted to, but they’d been so close to kissing, she felt like they were on the cusp of taking their long history of excruciatingly hot flirting to the next level. And she wasn’t ready for that. Yet.
For months his attention had had her insides whirling like a tornado, and working on these designs had thrown her right back to her college days, bringing an onslaught of both good and painful memories. The combination of both was overwhelming. Determined not to be defined by her dysfunctional family or where she’d come from, she had reinvented herself when she’d gone to college, and she’d done a hell of a job. She’d even gone by a different name. “Chrystina” had been everything “Chrissy” wasn’t, and people had liked her. She was girly and proper and smart, of course, because her father had always drilled the importance of good grades into her head. And despite her mother’s fall down the rabbit hole, she wasn’t a stupid woman. But just over two years into her wonderful new life, one party, and one treacherously bad decision, had brought her world crashing down around her—and no-bullshit, hard-as-nails, don’t-f*ck-with-me “Crystal” was born. Creating a reputation for being into tough guys and having a penchant for one-night stands had made her emotionally untouchable, and that had kept her safe and sane.