Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
When I heard him clear his throat, I looked up and found him staring at me. My stomach buzzed with an acute awareness as I noted his more toned-down appearance—designer jeans, which he didn’t wear often, even though he looked damned good in them, and a plain gray button-down instead of one loudly patterned. His hair was still perfectly styled, and now I remembered the feel of my fingers burrowing in those silky stands. Fuck me.
I would not look at those soft, pillowy lips. Nope, not going there.
“What?” I barked out, not intending to sound so gruff.
“Huh?” His eyebrows scrunched together like he had no clue what I was talking about.
I pointed out the obvious. “You’re staring at me.”
“Don’t be so full of yourself. I’m certainly not staring at you.” He lifted his chin. There was the arrogant boss I’d been missing. “I was zoning out.”
“That’s cool.” Embarrassment lined my cheeks with heat. “You’re allowed.”
So it was officially back to business, which was comforting. Even if I doubted myself and everything else all weekend, leave it up to Rowan to put me in my place.
“What’s on the agenda this week?”
“You want to do that now?” I glanced at the coffee he’d barely touched. “Normally, you don’t like it if I—”
“All right, whatever.” Irritation etched his brow. “Just go for it.”
“Let me pull up the schedule.” I clicked around on my computer to change tabs. I hadn’t yet transferred the data into his monthly planner, but he didn’t seem to notice. Yet. “Okay, Penelope Bard is insisting on using her own stylist for the appearance next week.”
He huffed out a breath, as if he took it personally, and in some ways, I bet he did. Which was strange because he certainly wouldn’t like it if Kendall suddenly asked for assistance from another stylist. It did occasionally happen when they couldn’t get their schedules to match off-site. “Fine.”
“And the Gucci showroom wants to send over samples for Kendall’s next red-carpet event, which will be…let me see…” I clicked over to another calendar I had to coordinate with Naomi. “At the end of the month.”
“Marvelous.” He clapped his hands excitedly. Clothing did that for him. “You’ll pick them up?”
I wanted to point out that Kendall’s assistant had nothing to do with the clothing side of anything, but I kept my mouth shut. I’d signed up for this job willingly.
“Of course.”
We discussed a couple more items on the list as he sipped his coffee.
“Anything else?” Rowan asked.
I looked at a list I’d started before I left on Friday. “You’re out of some supplies in your styling case for off-site shoots, like those pins you use for—”
“You can shop for those items on your lunch hour this week. And don’t get the cheap kind.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I didn’t mind those sorts of shopping trips because they involved all-purpose stores and organizational things. “Anything to add to the list?”
“I’ll let you know,” he said after thinking about it a moment longer.
The room grew quiet, and I shifted awkwardly. I didn’t think I could take the entire week being like this, with this thing between us sitting like a boulder on my chest.
Before I chickened out, I blurted, “Do you want to talk about what happened on Friday?”
His cheeks tinted as he looked away. “There’s nothing to discuss as far as I’m concerned.”
“Agreed.” I breathed out even as my gut churned. “I just want to make sure it’s not going to be uncomfortable between us.”
“Why would it be? What happened was ridiculous. Maybe. Probably. Let’s leave it at that.”
I wanted so badly to ask if Brett had contacted him, but I held my tongue.
“Okay.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He practically speed-walked out of the room, and I was left conflicted. Which was stupid. Of course it meant nothing. It needed to mean nothing. But somehow, hearing him say it made me feel small and insignificant.
I growled under my breath. I shouldn’t let him dictate how I felt.
Shoulders back, I stood and got going with the rest of my day.
I was chatting with Anita while steaming a shirt for one of the male guests when Rowan entered the room. I immediately felt the tension in the air as he bustled around, looking for something.
“Is that shirt for Dawson Henry?” Anita asked as she brushed her fingers over the material.
“Yep,” I replied. “He only showed up with his PA, so Rowan is styling him.”
She sighed dreamily. “I’ll have to watch his appearance from behind the scenes.”
“He’s definitely pretty to look at.” Steaming finished, I hung the shirt beside his suit on another rack. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you gush over a guest.”
She dipped her head. “Longtime fan.”
When Anita hurried off to help in the other room, I could feel Rowan’s gaze pressing in on me.