Stay(12)

Free trials are completely filled for the experimental procedure that could cure Eli’s condition. It’s new, risky, not yet FDA approved. They’re really close, but for all those reasons, my insurance won’t cover it. It could give Eli a chance at a normal life… The only problem is the hundred-thousand-dollar price tag.

With a sigh, I close the tab and shut down my laptop. I’m just getting on my feet, but if there’s any reason to keep reaching for that corporate ladder, it’s Eli. I have the credentials.

“I’ll get there for you, bud.” I give his head one final pat, and he lets out a little boy snore.



* * *



“Cleaning clothes is in our jeans.” Eli reads the sign out front and nods. “It almost seems too easy.”

“It’s hard to come up with punny signs day after day.” I pull the glass door open, and it’s déjà vu all over again.

A line is forming. Eli and I quickly pass through to the back, where I pull on my pink vest and head to the front.

Again, I skid to a stop in my tracks when Stephen Hastings greets me on the other side of the wooden counter.

“The dress isn’t ready.” My voice is shorter than I intend.

“Good morning to you, too.” He doesn’t scowl, which puts me on guard. “Your co-worker said you do suits?”

“Lulabell is my boss, and yes, we do menswear.”

Lou bustles out from the back, throwing her arms out when she sees him. “Another satisfied customer!”

“Technically, we haven’t done anything for him yet,” I say under my breath.

“I got your message last night. Her metal zipper is replaced. I tried to find one that won’t get stuck, but if it does, just rub it with a little soap. Or a clear crayon works wonders.”

He listens carefully and even nods and adds the occasional “Is that so?” at the appropriate time. It’s kind of… nice that he cares so much about his aunt’s things.

“You’re dropping off those suits? Oh, Armani.” Lou’s eyes light as she reaches for the stack of dark suits on his arm. The doorbell rings, and she pivots, passing the stack to me. “Emmy, write these up, honey. That’s a Lady Liberty contestant.”

My eyes flicker to the elegant blonde entering with the small entourage around her. She’s in a pink Jackie O suit and dark shades, and her equally blonde assistant is holding a garment bag.

“Sure.” I take the stack from her, counting out the coats and pants.

“It’s two suits and a jacket.”

I can’t help noticing his clean, faintly leathery cologne wafting up as I sort the sleek fabric. I fight against all the memories bubbling up at the scent.

“Just dry cleaned?”

“And pressed.” His voice is smooth, and I keep my eyes focused on the notepad where I’m jotting down the details, copying his address from the receipt for his aunt’s dress.

“They’ll be ready on Sunday. We can have them delivered before noon—”

“I’ll pick them up.”

I do look at him then, and this time I’m frowning. “Why? Your apartment is in Midtown. There’s no reason for you to come all the way down here. What’s the point?”

It’s a mistake to confront him. Those eyes sear into me, causing my insides to tighten in a way that can only be described as dangerous. My heart remembers the pain Stephen caused me, but my body only remembers how good being with him felt leading up to it.

“I wanted to see you again.” He seems as conflicted saying it as I am hearing it.

“Well…” I hold out my bare arms. “Here I am.”

“Yes, I see that.” Dropping his gaze, he passes a large hand over his scruffy chin. He still wears that sexy scruff. My skin tingles with desire to feel it again. “Why?”

He glances up from under his dark brow, and I swear, it’s pure sex appeal. For a moment, I’m a deer in headlights.

Then I remember who he is and snap the hell out of it.

The bell on the door has been ringing nonstop while I’ve taken down his order. Now I drop his suits in a blue net bag and pull the strings “So you’ve seen me again. Here’s your receipt.”

He reaches for it, and our fingers touch. It’s a surge of electricity, and I pull my hand away fast.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” His hand is still extended toward me on the counter. Lulabell is beside me working, but somehow it feels like we’re in our own separate bubble. “I meant to ask you to have lunch with me.”

“No.”

His chin pulls back, and for a half-second I wonder if any woman has ever dared say no to the great Stephen Hastings. I almost grin, but I turn my back instead, dropping the bag of suits into a larger canvas bin.

“Emmy…” Lou is at my shoulder holding a slip of paper in her hand. “Honey, I’m all out of fabric glue and sequins. Would you run to Jackie’s and get us some more? Oh, and I need a new bobbin.”

She shoves the sheet of paper at my hand, and my jaw drops. “Right now?” I scan the short line of customers waiting.

“Right now, honey! I need them before lunch.”

I study her face for a moment, looking for any sign she’s setting me up. If I know Lulabell, she’s sending me on a walk hoping Stephen will follow.