I’d expected at least a “you look pretty” comment or something. Anything really.
But it was the same old thing. Back to work. Gotta keep on it, we’re so busy, and I need you to work late, Miss James, blah, blah, blah. Just like his usual self.
Instead of disappointment, I should be glad. I should be relieved and thankful he didn’t leer at me and tell me how sexy I looked and could he get a hand up my skirt or anything like that. My old boss spoke to me like that all the time. He literally asked if he could feel up my “titties” one afternoon. I really hate that word. I’d worked as his receptionist for two whole weeks when he asked that particular question.
I’d been so surprised I’d politely told him, “I don’t think so.”
I don’t think so. I’d been so naive and shocked, I’d even giggled when I said it, which probably gave him the wrong idea.
That I’d willingly let him kiss me and touch my so-called titties within two months of that first request probably gave him the wrong idea too.
Sighing, I rub my forehead, run my hand over my hair. I’d planned on wearing it down and decided at the last minute I couldn’t do it. The dress, the makeup, and the shoes were bad enough. The hair, my one crowning glory as my grandma always called it, would’ve made it more than obvious.
My daily appearance as the drab, neutral Miss James is a complete facade. How I’m dressed at this very moment, I’m more like my old, sexy, too-pretty-for-her-own-good Bryn self.
Shopping with Ivy and Marina had been so much fun though. Those girls ran me ragged all Saturday afternoon and into the evening. That little pregnant and supposedly exhausted Ivy was the fastest of us all, too. She pulled out so many things for me to try on, I’d been stuck in one dressing room after another, all over downtown St. Helena.
I’d broken out the credit card and bought a few new pieces of clothing for work, this dress being one of them. Then they took me to a salon, and I got my hair cut. I can’t remember the last time I had it trimmed, and it felt so good to have it professionally shaped and styled, some of that heavy weight cut off since my hair is so thick.
When they offered the free makeover, I decided why not. What could it hurt? Not that I don’t know how to apply makeup. I have an entire box of the stuff at home, stuffed under the sink. I haven’t busted it out once since I arrived in St. Helena. I was a new person and this version of Bryn James didn’t wear makeup.
The makeup artist was good and Ivy and Marina were beside themselves when it was all said and done. The new hair, the new face—they couldn’t stop going on about how fabulous I looked.
Or how fabulous they thought Matt would find me.
Those words made me nervous. I wasn’t doing this just to get a reaction out of Matt. I also did it for me. To bond with these two women who felt like they could be true friends. Had I ever really had friends? When I was little, yes, I had a bunch of them. I ran around with a group of kids who lived in the trailer park with me. But as I got older, filled out and got curves, the boys started paying attention to me in a different way.
And the girls didn’t really like me anymore.
Shoving those unpleasant thoughts from my mind, I remember the last store we went into before going out to dinner. They’d been ready to close up shop, the employees irritated that we’d come in. Ivy had spotted a dress in the window she declared perfect for me to wear to the grand reopening and I’d reluctantly agreed.
The moment I put the magenta dress on, I knew Ivy had been right. It felt silky on my skin, with thin straps that wrapped over my shoulders and an almost completely exposed back. A deep V in the front showed off my cle**age, and the slightly fitted skirt hugged my hips and thighs stopping just above my knee. The dress was sophisticated and gorgeous and sexy. Marina and Ivy practically peed themselves they’d been so excited to see me in it when I emerged from the dressing room. I turned this way and that, smiling and laughing with them as I imagined what Matt might do when he saw me in it.
Then I slipped back into the dressing room, caught sight of the price tag and gasped in surprise.
It cost almost my entire month’s paycheck.
Immediately depressed, I took the dress off, slung it back on the hanger and fled the dressing room, leaving the dress inside, mumbling to both girls that I’d changed my mind and didn’t want it. Marina followed me outside in shocked disbelief, trying to convince me I needed to march right back in there and buy that dress.
I’d been too distraught to even wonder what Ivy might be doing.
Ivy joined us within moments, her expression serious and clutching a shopping bag. She thrust it toward me, her jaw set, her mouth thin.
“Don’t you dare refuse this. It’s my gift to you. For all the birthdays and Christmases you have coming up,” Ivy said.
I’d wanted to cry as I accepted the bag but held it together. Her kindness surprised me, especially from a woman I barely knew. My own mama wouldn’t look twice at me anymore since she was too busy out living her own life. I haven’t seen her since I graduated high school and she’d only come for the ceremony before she left again with her boyfriend. And my grandma would rather give me crap than a present.
It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me before, besides Matt repaying our bounced paychecks.
Now the dress is ready to be worn, sitting in my nearly empty closet. I can’t wait. I absolutely cannot wait to put it on and see what Matt does when he gets a gander of me.
Probably nothing. He’d probably say, “You look nice, Miss James,” and leave it at that.
My fist curls of its own volition, and I thump it on top of my desk, making everything sitting on the surface rattle. No. I refuse to accept another non-reaction from Matt. I know he’s my boss. I know I shouldn’t be doing anything like this. It’s risky, stupid, and I could potentially lose my job or at least ruin it forever.
I still want him. The consequences be damned. I want Matthew DeLuca.
And I’m starting to think I’ll do anything to make it happen.
Chapter Four
Bryn
“YOU WORK TOO hard.”
Matt glances up, his dark gaze meeting mine. Lines of exhaustion are around his eyes, his normally lush mouth turned into a slight frown. His dark brown hair is in complete, sexy disarray and his shirtsleeves are shoved up almost past his elbows, as if he’d done it impatiently.
Which he probably had, knowing him.
For the past two days, he’s been working constantly preparing for the grand reopening. Considering it’s already Wednesday, and we only have two days left to prepare, I’ve been here right along with him helping wherever I can.