Stay(6)

“Got it.” I make a mental note.

Lou moved to New York after winning Grande Miss Hemisphere in her home state of Kentucky to be an actress. She didn’t make it to the stage, but she found a niche for specialty dry cleaning in the pageant and drag circuits. These beaded gowns, feathers, and undergarments require gentle, loving care, and Miss Con-Cleaneality is here to provide it.

It’s amazing how having a gimmick is a magnet for business.

“Hey, the Art Bar’s hosting a charity dinner, slash fashion show this weekend. I could use some help doing the models’ hair and makeup. They’ll pay you.”

My eyes widen. “You think I’m ready?”

“Ready as you’ll ever be!” She grins, and I hop over to give her a huge squeeze.

“You really are my fairy godmother!”

That makes her laugh. “I only took a chance on a deserving kid.”

“You took pity on a single mom with nothing more than an art history degree, a pedigree, and zero job skills.”

“I could tell you were a fast learner.”

When I got pregnant and decided to marry Burt Dickerson, I put my dreams of working at Sotheby’s on hold, and when Eli came and we discovered his seizure disorder, my dreams were shoved even further onto the back burner.

Then Burt decided he’d rather screw Peg Yardley than face our challenges together, and I left him, spending what little inheritance my dad left me on lawyers. It takes money to get a divorce. It takes even more money to get the custody deal I wanted.

Eli stays with me full-time, but Burt has visitation rights. It’s not the exact arrangement I had in mind, but I remind myself he is Eli’s dad. Still, it’s hard letting him go with a man who would prefer to ignore his son’s illness than be proactive about it.

So these days hair and makeup are as close as I get to art, and when I try to feel sad, I look at my little boy. The missed opportunities seem to fade away, and I’m sure something better is waiting for us out there. You never know what the future holds.

The bell on the counter out front makes an impatient Ding! and we give each other The Look.

“New Yorkers.” Lou’s voice grows louder as she complains. “Lord, don’t make them wait half a second or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I got it.” I tug the back of my long hair out of my vest and start for the front.

“I’ll be right out,” she calls. “I got something for Eli.”

I cast a glance back at my son, and I see him already digging into his animal science textbook. He’s so smart. He’s already on sixth-grade projects in science.

“You’re spoiling him rotten.”

“He deserves a little spoiling.”

“Fairy godmother.” Shaking my head, I turn and pass through the opening leading to the front counter.

I’ve just straightened the tail of my vest when I see the impatient bell-ringer and freeze in my tracks. My stomach pitches, and my throat goes dry.

Stephen Hastings is standing at the front counter of Miss Con-Cleaneality.

In a flash, I take in his wavy brown hair, neatly cut and swept away from his face, from his square jaw. That damn sexy square jaw, where the muscle is moving back and forth impatiently.

He’s wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit that follows the line of his broad shoulders, down to his narrow waist. He’s not wearing a tie, and I get the smallest peek at the hollow of his neck right at the V in the collar of his white shirt.

Knots cramp in my stomach, and I want to run away—at least to the back room to hide. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that night ten years ago, yet it’s all back in a flash.

I remember touching his neck with the tip of my tongue… I remember the scuff of his beard against my cheek as he kissed my neck and bit my earlobe. I can still feel his large hands gripping my upper thighs, pulling me hard against his pelvis. The thrust of his massive cock… Muscle memory causes my insides to clench. Yeah, those insides. Sue me.

Just as fast, I remember the shame of his rejection.

It burns my cheeks thinking of how innocent I was, thinking it would mean as much to him as it did to me. I almost laugh. In the end, Stephen Hastings was just like any other Upper East Side jerk who’d gotten his rocks off with some random chick at a party. He couldn’t get out of that room fast enough.

No. I set my jaw. No matter how insanely hot we were together, I will never let him humiliate me like that again.

Now he’s standing at the front counter, signature scowl firmly in place, looking arrogant as ever and sexy as fuck.

Why is he here? I happen to know he inherited more money than God after his dad died. He should have minions dropping off his dry cleaning. Instead he’s here, disrupting my life by his mere presence.

His intense gaze is fixed on something outside the window, and I consider slowly backing out of sight…

Too late.

His head turns, those blue eyes hit mine, and my heart shoots off like a rocket. Damn him.

I’m surprised when he draws back, blinking quickly. Is it possible he’s as startled to see me as I am to see him? If so, he recovers fast.

“Emmy Barton?” His tone is forceful. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” I go to the counter and grab the small order pad and a pen, amazed at how calm I sound. “Dropping this off?”