Page 39 of Hold Me Instead
She stepped back toward the hall. “I have plans tonight. Let’s schedule a meeting next week, though.” She made a show of looking at the clock, lifting her coffee. “Thanks for this!”
Charlie hurried back to her—their—office and shrugged out of her coat to reveal standard navy scrubs. Laundry had taken a backseat lately, so all of her fun workwear was buried in the hamper. Zachary would be pleased, a thought that made her chuckle. He didn’t try to hide how ridiculous he found her work attire, which only made her more proud of the pieces. In fact, holiday sales were happening. Maybe she could find one with a cat dressed like the Grinch.
“What’s so funny?” Zachary came into the office and set down his coffee.
“Oh, nothing.” She stood with her palms on her desk as she scanned her list for the day. Once she reached the end of her notes, the Zachary jitters, as opposed to those caffeine-induced, had calmed—until she walked by him on her way out of the office.
“What are you wearing?” He frowned, scanning her up and down.
“Last resort today, Lee,” she said, feeling his eyes bore into her until she was out of sight.
***
“To shaming assholes!” Amber raised her glass and clanked it against the others, then took a large gulp of her whiskey cider.
Charlie giggled, watching her cousin from across the table. “How’ve you had three of those already? Too sweet, even for me.” She hiccuped and sipped her old fashioned.
Amber sighed with a lazy grin, slumping against the booth in her caramel blazer and snug white top. “I even had a large slice of cake before coming here. To take the edge off.”
Cleo made a gagging sound beside Amber. “Your reliance on sugar is concerning.”
“Hey, you know sugar and sex are my favorite remedies. I was already seeing you lovely ladies, so sugar won out. This time.” Amber wiggled her eyebrows, her simple eyeliner making her honey-brown eyes pop. She added a shake to her perky ponytail.
Magnolia laughed beside Charlie, her fingers tracing the condensation on a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Her natural, dark brown curls slid just over her shoulders, and a small gold nose stud winked against her light golden brown skin. “I’m picturing you in bed, post sex, pulling a cupcake from your nightstand drawer, taking a bite like a drag from a cigarette.”
“That sounds like her dream scenario,” Cleo murmured, grinning.
Amber had her hand over her chest, eyes closed in feigned ecstasy. “Give me a minute,” she whispered.
They all laughed, the relief tangible following Amber’s story of the latest asshole she’d removed from the restaurant where she worked, who’d found it perfectly acceptable to grab her ass while she took his order.
“I wish extra shifts at my shop could replace you having to work there,” Cleo said with remorse. Amber had stories like this on the regular.
“Unfortunately, the tips are insane. At least my managers follow through on dealing with shit. I’ve almost saved enough to rent a workspace, though, and then I’ll be able to take on more custom orders.” Amber shrugged, appearing nonchalant, even though she’d had to move slowly with her woodworking launch. “In time. Speaking of your shop, did you tell them the latest?”
Cleo’s grin was almost shy as she set down her old fashioned. Her curls, pinned back on one side, artfully grazed the wide-neck indigo top that exposed a delicate clavicle. “We’ve officially launched the events calendar. So far, we’ve selected dates for our art show night and the free painting class for the youth group. Mainly Books also agreed to a joint effort for a writing class. They’re so excited, said they know of a few relatively local authors who’d love to do a guest spot.”
They were a chorus of excitement and support. Charlie beamed at her friend. Cleo’s shop had been open for two years, but her dream of expanding within the community had always been a goal. Her top priorities were interacting with youth and providing ways for those who couldn’t afford extra training to have access to additional classes for the arts. The Village shops all had basement storage, but Cleo’s had a bonus back room as well. It was a blank canvas, perfect for staging events.
“When’s the first one?” Charlie asked.
“Mid-January. A little breathing room after the holiday craze.”
“Oh, God, the holiday open house!” Magnolia yelped. “I don’t know why I keep forgetting about that.” She opened her phone and brought up her calendar. “When is it again?”
“Two weeks before Christmas,” Cleo said.
“Shit, right.” Magnolia tapped furiously, pausing to shimmy out of her jacket and briefly tug at her black silk blouse with giant flowers increams and golds. She gave a thumbs-up to Amber, who’d picked up the menu card from their table and fanned her dramatically.
“I think we need another round of drinks,” Amber said, signaling for a server.
“You’ve been a bit busy prepping for the storeopening, Magnolia,” Charlie said. “It’s okay if you don’t do anything special for the open house.”
“Yeah, people will still come by,” Cleo reassured.
Magnolia winced. “I’m already nervous we won’t open in time. My boss just informed me that a couple vendors are changing. I also have to make extra of my products to send out to the flagship in Ojaiandhave ready here. I should be working right now,” she added in a strained tone.
“When’s she letting you hire people?” Cleo asked.
