I heard the sound of a smack and picturedthe sweet guy hitting the arm of the more outrageous one. But the second voicelaughed, so he wasn’t too upset. “Eli. You can’t say things like that. At leastnot that loud. He’s going to hear.”
Yes, he was.
As I heard the men start to leave, I wentback to focusing on the book in my hands, even though I’d been on the same pagefor nearly ten minutes. They shuffled around and I pictured them clearing offthe table.
When they finally passed me, one guy wasbusy focusing on the floor, making a concerted effort not to look in mydirection. The other guy clearly wasn’t worried about my noticing him. Not thatthere ever would’ve been a chance of that.
The skintight jeans were nearly painted onhis lean frame and the black T-shirt with the brightly colored unicorn on thefront that saidunicorns and caffeine make everything betterwould havestood out anywhere.
But just to make sure I didn’t miss him, hegave me a wink and then glanced toward the guy who’d just stepped out the door.“See you on Friday, sexy.”
I was still sitting there looking at thedoor long after they’d left. It was a little bit like the calm after a stormhad passed through. But a little voice in the back of my head said it was morelike the eye of a hurricane. A peaceful calm before the rest of the storm.
I wasn’t sure if I was frightened orintrigued.
I gave up on reading and finishing my nowcold coffee, and headed back to the shop. I kept replaying the conversationover and over in my head. The first guy had clearly known I could hear him, butmystalkerhadn’t realized it. I’d thought he was mid-twenties when hewas walking out, but he either had to be younger than that or a lot moreinnocent than his job suggested he should be.
His job…that was something else entirely.
The way he talked about the lingerie madeit seem like it wasn’t just a job to pay the bills…he liked it. Had he beenwearing something like that in the coffee shop? Had his plain jeans and T-shirtbeen covering up something a lot more interesting than boxers?
And I shouldnothave been picturinga stranger in panties or lingerie. Man or woman.
I just couldn’t help it, though.
The walk to the shop didn’t take nearly aslong as I needed it to. Normally, I liked walking into the shop. It wasn’t justa job but a place where my creativity came to life. Pictures weren’t merely onpaper here…they left almost alive. Today, however, my brain was somewhere elseentirely…down the street at a photo shoot, if I was honest with myself.
The bell on the door chimed as I walked in,and Stan looked up from the back table where he was hunched over somepaperwork. The walls were decorated with photos of tattoos and drawings I’ddone. With almost surgical-level cleanliness the place could have seemed stark,but I loved it.
“I’ll make you a partner today if youfigure out these forms.” Stan’s bark was worse than his bite, but he had a love-haterelationship with the business. He loved tattoos and owning his own place, buthe hated the paperwork and anything to do with the accounting.
“No deal. I’m an art major, remember?” Iwasn’t even going to pretend to understand the books. “If you want me to writeyou an essay on the merits of art in schools or to draw you a new tattoodesign, I’m your guy. That’s about it, though.”
Stan barked out a laugh and shook his head.“I’m good, thanks.”
Stan wasn’t much on formal education.Having at least a few business classes would have made everything easier,though. “I keep telling you—”
He scoffed and went back to his paperwork.“Don’t even say it. I’m not hiring someone or taking those stupid classes.”
“Okay.” His stubbornness was the onlyreason I hadn’t taken him up on his offer to be a partner. As much as I lovedthe shop, I wasn’t going to constantly fight with him about the paperwork.
“You’re late coming back. You still readingthat book?”
“Yes.” I had more interesting things tofocus on than my book though. “I’m not late. I’m on time.”
“Wasting time.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “I’m not goingto argue about that again. Besides, I was listening to a stalker, not reading.”
Setting my book down at my station, Istarted checking to make sure everything was ready for my next customer.
“What?”
Grinning, I turned back to him. “Evidently,I’ve got myself an admirer. Not so secret anymore, though. He works at thatlingerie company up the street.”
Stan shook his head disbelievingly. “Onlyyou could pick up a lingerie-wearing guy as a stalker.”
Shrugging, I tried not to take offense, notthat I was sure exactly what he meant, but knowing Stan it was something I’dregret hearing. He wasn’t exactly homophobic, but he’d never come across as themost accepting kind of guy. “I didn’t pick anyone up. I just overheard aconversation.”
