Page 95 of Need You
“I’m wondering if it’s too much. Clearly, the clothes are monochrome and drab for a reason. I just don’t know what that reason is.”
“The reason is that unimaginative men design them,” Deb said. “A little pattern is fun, and I like what you did with the sleeves ... very practical.” She took the pad from Hannah and turned the page to a ski jacket Delaney had designed. “Now this ... Can I put my name on a list for one of these?”
Thrilled that Deb liked the designs, especially because she was the target consumer, Delaney said, “Really? You’re not being nice because I’m your friend?”
“I don’t ski or climb anything higher than my stairs and I’d wear all that stuff.” Hannah pointed at the sketchbook. “And I’m one-hundred percent positive that my customers would too. But if you want I could show them to Josh. Although now that you and Colt are friends, you could show them to him. He’ll tell you the truth. Just don’t show TJ or he’ll start up again about you working with Garner Adventure.”
A waitress came to take their order and she and Deb complained about Felix for a while. They made him out to be quite a taskmaster, but given that the two women whined about him right under his nose, Delaney figured he must be a decent boss. According to the scuttlebutt, he’d been a champion snowboarder, injured himself in the half-pipe event in the 2010 Olympics, and could no longer compete. He’d moved to Glory Junction for the slopes and bought the diner to support himself.
“I was actually thinking of partnering with Garner Adventure to beta test them, perhaps have some of the guides wear the gear and let me know how to improve the design,” Delaney said.
“Seriously? That’s awesome. But are you sure? No offense to my husband’s family’s company, but it’s got to be small potatoes for someone like you.”
“At the risk of sounding extremely corporate, I think it would be good for my brand to work with a small, family-run operation in the middle of adventure paradise. It would make the clothing more authentic, rather than fashion wear made to look sporty, don’t you think?”
“When you put it that way, yeah, I do,” Hannah said. “It’s smart marketing. Hey, why don’t you do a big fashion show debuting the line at Garner Adventure? How fun would that be? You could even have the Garner brothers and the other guides model the clothes.”
“I don’t know. This is just a sideline . . . something to keep me occupied.” Although the idea appealed to her and could be the answer to fashion week. She’d need more than the athletic wear, though.
“Keep it in mind,” Hannah said. “And I’ll help any way I can.”
Delaney was still mulling Hannah’s suggestion over at the grocery store a few hours later. So much so that she wheeled her cart around as if in a daze, returning to the produce aisle a number of times for salad makings without putting anything in her basket.
That’s when she saw Colt over by the cold beverages, pulling a six-pack from one of the refrigerators. She waved and he waved back. After a few minutes of her just standing there he finally came over.
“How you doing?” he asked.
“Good, you?”
“Good.”
For God’s sake, you’d think they’d just met each other even though only hours ago, they’d been as intimate as two people could be.
“I better get going.” He did that head bob thing, and she watched him slip away as stealthily as a cat burglar. Colt Garner was trying to avoid her; she was positive of it.
“You can’t just sleep with me and then run away,” she muttered, knocking things off shelves with her cart in a mad dash up and down the lanes to hunt him down and give him a piece of her mind. But the man had disappeared.Poof. Gone. Clearly he’d left without even buying his damn beer.
And then it occurred to her that she was acting desperate. Worse: pathetic. They’d hooked up, had a one-night stand. He probably had tons of them—badge bunnies, band groupies. He was a walking chick magnet. And here she was chasing after him in the feminine hygiene aisle like a lovesick lunatic. Where was her dignity, her self-respect? She was freaking Delaney Scott, designer to celebrities, rock stars, and British royals.
This was all Robert’s fault. If he hadn’t told her how frigid and unattractive she’d become, hadn’t shocked her with his creepy proposal to spice up their marriage, she wouldn’t be throwing herself at a man who would rather go without food than have to face her in the safe confines of a supermarket.
She paid for her groceries, loaded them into the back of her Tesla, and drove home, vowing to kick him out of the easement space if he’d dared to park there.
* * *
Colt felt like a heel for ditching her. It hadn’t been his intention, but it seemed easier to flee than have the awkward postcoital conversation in a goddamned grocery store.
His stomach growled and his refrigerator was empty. He called Old Glory for takeout and swung by the bar on his way home. A nice quiet evening in—without the mayor chewing his ass or the watch commander getting him out of bed, or his brothers bugging him to take their shifts at GA—was exactly what he had in mind. And if the stars aligned he might actually get it.
“You wouldn’t sell me a six-pack, would you?” Colt asked over the noise of the jukebox and a heated game of darts as he waited at the bar for someone to bring out his order.
Boden took a moment to consider it. “I can’t sell alcohol to leave the premises. But I can give you a six-pack.”
“Nah, that’s all right.” As the police chief he shouldn’t take free stuff, though he wasn’t such a stickler when Boden wanted him to taste a new brew on tap. He chalked that up to them both being craft beer buffs.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I think I have a couple of bottles at home.”
