Page 15 of Scoring His Obsession

“An accountant. That sounds so fancy.”

“The fanciest.”

She lets my hands go, kneels, and starts gathering the printed labels from the floor. I don’t know what I would do without her. I’m still processing everything while she’s already jumping into action.

She lifts her arm and holds up four fingers. “We’re going to need more shipping supplies.”

More? Disbelief thrums through me. “I thought we ordered some a couple of days ago?”

“Not enough for these,” she singsongs, piling them up. “Here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll start picking these, and youdo a reorder of the items that are out of stock or are estimated to be out of stock soon, then you can start packaging.”

I watch as she stacks label after label in her fist. “This is going to take forever.”

“And we open in two hours.”

I peer toward the front of the store. The early morning light shines in through the windows, highlighting the different outfits I designed. Handkerchiefs, leashes, collars, we even partnered with a local baker who makes safe, organic dog treats. Athena approved, of course. Just as I think her name, she lifts her head from her dog bed in the corner, the perfect swath of sunlight illuminating her. Since opening the store, she’s dubbed that place her morning spot.

Who knew a dog would change my life in so many ways? First, by saving it, then by inspiring the idea that spurred on the first dress, then the store, then meeting Micah Freeman, then…

Wait, that’s not right. Since when did meeting Micah get added to my list of things to be grateful for?

“Are you staring wistfully at the store again?” Tab asks.

I clear my throat. “Maybe.” Her voice spurs me to get moving. We won’t be finished fulfilling these orders before we open, but if we don’t start now, we won’t be done by the time the store closes either. Especially since we’ve had an uptick in foot traffic since the video as well.

I sit at the computer in the back and reorder the out of stock and almost out of stock, just like Tab asked, noting the style and seeing if there’s anything particularly popular. All good things to keep in mind for growth. If people want glitter dresses, I’ll give them more glitter dresses.

When I’m done, I stand at the end of the assembly line-esque table that Tab and I agreed was the best to get orders out more effectively and efficiently and start gathering shipping materials.

“Have you heard from him?” Tab asks.

“Who?” The question comes out of my mouth, but it’s not hard to guess who she means, which is probably why she stays silent. When I look over at her, she rolls her eyes. “Oh, you mean the man who hijacked my phone and who my best friend had no qualms about giving my most private information to? He could be a stalker.”

“Clearly he’s not because he hasn’t asked you out again.”

I don’t know why her words send disappointment through me. Not having a stalker is usually the thing a girl can get behind.

“You should ask him.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoff. He sends me at least one text per day, and I have to think long and hard before I answer.

“Rae-bae. May I remind you that the man upgraded your room to thepenthouse, he sent Athena a gift basket, and then offered to fly you home…on a private jet.”

“I drove. How was I supposed to get my car home? Plus, it was all overwhelming. The interview, Athena humping his leg, then him asking me for drinks? It all sounded crazy in my head.”

“What’s crazy is that you thought it was crazy.”

“Oh well,” I say, my tone portraying finality as my anxiety spikes. “What’s done is done.”

Tab doesn’t say more after that. Though, that doesn’t mean she won’t bring it up again. She’s somehow managed to weave it into nearly every conversation since I got back. She really expects him to ask me out again someday. But every day that goes by that he doesn’t only proves my original thought: He just wanted an easy lay. My video practically gave him a blaring green light. He won’t waste his time on someone he actually has to work to get to know.

Even while I’m filling my head with all these excuses, they don’t feel right. Like I’m lying to myself. Unease crawls over my skin, but I can’t tell where the lie is. Is it that he’s actually aplayer? Or is it the fact that I’m telling myself I’m not waiting for him to ask me out?

Sometime after lunch,Tab leaves for the post office with the orders that weren’t ready when our pickup time came. While she’s gone, I help a few customers who bring their dogs into the store, which is always my highlight of the day. When Tab returns, I’m ringing someone up who purchased a couple hundred dollars’ worth of outfits for an adorable beagle, which reminds me that I wanted to start a reward system for loyal customers. I make myself a note on the notepad next to me when Tab plops down a stack of mail. “We really have to remember to check our PO box.”

My eyes bulge out of my head. “All this?”

“That’s just yours. My stack is equally as big.”

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