Page 8 of Savored Sins
Sue inspects her fingernails, clacks them together before laying a gentle claw on my forearm. I shrug her off.
“Oh, I’msorry, Autumn. I didn’t mean to offend you—really. It’s just, you know, we’re yourlandlords. We’re well aware of the traffic in and out of the building, and we commend you for sticking with your rent despite the dwindling numbers. We’re so happy we can keep supporting you in your little endeavor.”
Um,what. Did she actually just say that to me?
I stare at her, feeling my blood pressure rise. “Supporting me? You have no idea how much money I make, Sue.”
And then this bitch gives me a smug little smile that makes my blood boil. She presses her feathery lips together and nods like she’s humoring a two-year-old who just told her they’re going to be an astronaut.
“Right.” Sue flicks her talons in the direction of Brewed Awakening, starting to walk toward her Range Rover. “I don’t mean to keep you from your coffee, honey. It was great running into you—take care.”
I don’t even bother with a response. I just head straight down the sidewalk without a look behind, trying to shake Sue’s awful energy off and failing.
I amfuming. Howdareshe? What—does she think I’m some kind of charity case who’s got no hope of succeeding without her—what’d she call it?—support? She can fuck right off. I’ll show herandPatrick. I’ll show themall. I don’t need their stupid, filthy money, theirsupport, to make something of my?—
What the…?
I stop. There’s a group of teenage girls crowding the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. They’ve got their faces pressed up against the glass, giggling as they fall all over each other to look at something inside. A few of them have got their phones out and are trying to film themselves along with whatever the hell they’re all freaking out over in the background. I like social media as much as the next millennial, but I will never understand these TikTok trends. This shit is weird. But as I slip past the girls to get inside the door, I hear a squeal.
“Holy shit, holy shit! It’s actually Zeke. He’sinthere.”
What? I do a double take, whipping my head around to face the girls.
“Ohmigawd,” another girl gushes. “He’s sodreamy. Move—I need to see again!”
This last outburst makes me cackle out loud, and the entire group of girls turns to stare at me. I mean, they’re not wrong—this was basically me last night, albeit with a bit more decorum. I bet these girls would absolutelyloseit if they knew they were staring at the chick who owns the cabin Zeke takes his filthy showers in. They’d be all over that shit, asking for details, following me to the boutique…
Oh.Oh.
Goddammit. Trey was right.
My boutique—myshowin two weeks—needs all the publicity it can get, and Zeke Holloway has publicity in droves. Granted, the buzz I’m seeing in front of me is givingmajorteeny-bopper vibes, but Zeke’s been living rent-free in my head since last night, and I’m an adult woman. Not only is Zeke the perfect build for the line, but if any of these munchkins get wind thathe’s walking in the show, it could also drum up some organic interest…
Yep. Zeke’s my best option.
I stride into the coffee shop, scanning the tables for Zeke’s tousled blond head, and spot him at a booth in the corner. He’s got a huge pair of headphones jammed over his ears and is lounging back against the vinyl seat, one lithe arm slung over his head. He’s squinting at the laptop screen, but looks up at me as I approach. A slow grin spreads across his devilishly handsome face and he pulls the headphones off his ears so they’re hanging around his neck.
“Long time no see,” he says, his blue eyes glinting.
“Yeah, sure.” I fix my eyes on him, willing my heart to stop its stupid drumming. My reaction to this twenty-three-year-old is honestly ridiculous, and I need to get over it if what I’m about to ask him is going to pan out. “Listen, I’ve got a proposal for you.”
He raises an eyebrow, still grinning. “Your place or mine?”
“Your placeismy place,” I say. “Anyway, gross. No. I’ve got a favor to ask you.”
Zeke removes the headphones from around his neck and sets them on the table. “I’m listening.”
“I’m having a fashion show for my sustainable clothing line in two weeks. It’s for my autumn collection, and I need someone to model the menswear. The guy I had lined up can’t do it—you want to walk for me?”
Zeke rubs his chin. “Do I want to walk for you…?”
“Yes,” I say, trying hard to keep my tone even and professional. “In the show.”
Zeke narrows his eyes like he’s mulling it over. He glances out the window at the crowd of girls who are still trying to catch a glimpse of him, then looks back at me. The edges of his lips curl, and I see a flash of straight, white teeth. “What’s in it for me?”
I sigh, exasperated. “Well, I’llpayyou, obviously?—”
Zeke shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, wecoulddo that, but I’d rather make a trade.”
