Page 3 of Net and Chill

He nods, just barely. As if nodding might cause his pants to split. “Yeah? I remember you.”

“Are…you sure you can sit like this comfortably for a photo shoot?”

“No.” He says on an exhale. “I can’t. You know what, fuck this. Sorry. I’m sure you can work your magic with these pants, but I’m just gonna tell them the linen suit is a hard pass. I would never wear these unless someone put a gun to my head. I’ll try on the Ralph Lauren—I think it’s wool.”

“Okay, great! Cool. I’ll just step out again, then.”

I stare down at the minimal amount of space between his bent knees and the wall. I’m not a large person. My legs are pretty thin. If a normal-sized man were sitting in that chair and unwilling tomove again for fear of exposing himself, I’m pretty sure I could squeeze past him. Instead, to make thingslessawkward, I choose to turn away from him, raise my bent leg, and step over his lap. I am certain I could have done this swiftly, and with grace, even with my ass in his face, if I hadn’t decided to wear skinny jeans today.

Fuck you, skinny jeans!All pants are assholes today! I somehow manage to lose my balance and now I’m straddling a customer, doing the reverse cowgirl on his Great One. His big, strong hands are already gripping my hips. He has such good reflexes, he probably grabbed me before I even realized what was happening. Oh God. I can feelitunder me. His team captain. It isinthe crease. “Shit…” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Now I’m in Freeze or Fawn mode. If I move at all, therewillbe friction. I don’t know what to do.

Craig grunts. It’s quiet, but I hear it. He squeezes my hips a little tighter. It’s ever so slight, but I feel it. Wordlessly, his hands slide up to my waist and he lifts me up. Like I weigh nothing. Like I’m a cat. High enough that I can easily clear his thighs, and then he lowers me and doesn’t let go until my feet are flat on the floor and I’m steady.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yup. You?”

“Yup.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “Okay. I will be out here. Out there. Let me know when you’ve changed into another pair of pants, and we’ll do that again. Not theme sitting on youpart. The other stuff. I’ll just…” I part the curtains and shut them behind me, ensuring that the Velcro sticks together so there are no gaps.

Now that there’s more oxygen available and I can breathe again, I think that was fine. That probably wasn’t as bad as it felt. It’s not like I humped his giant meaty thigh or anything.

“Hey, Bowie!” my dad calls out while hanging a customer’s dress on the rack. “My Widdle Biddy’s single, in case you were wondering!”

“Dad!”

Somehow,thisis the thing that finally breaks me out in hives.

Maybe Craig didn’t hear that.

No response. Silence. That’s good, I guess. Or totally humiliating.

“Good to know, sir,” comes a smooth, deep rumble from behind the curtain. “Good to know.”

3

CRAIG

Well, that was efficient. I didn’t even have to dream up an erotic scene during my shower just now. All I had to do was remember everything that happened with Bridget Cross in the fitting room this morning. Except I had to imagine that itdidn’thappen when her dad was right on the other side of the curtain.

She was literally on her knees in front of me. At one point her hands were on my waist when she was measuring and she glanced up at me through those long, dark lashes as she bit her lower lip. That was a real thing that happened. And I will see it every time I close my eyes for a long time.

Her fingers lightly grazed my johnson more than once. Obviously it wasn’t on purpose, but the way she stayed laser focused on the task—it washot. Telling me what to do, even though it was clearly awkward for her.Could you turn this way? Can you hold this for a second?She’s a sensual, confident person, and it was hot.

The way she asked me to hold my arm out when she was measuring the jacket sleeve. Bridget took my wrist in her hand to position my arm, and her thumb just kind of naturally settled against the palm of my hand. I noticed her noticing my callused skin. It distracted her for a second. Her eyelashes fluttered. She caught her breath. It was like I could read her mind. She was thinking about what it would feel like if my callused hands stroked her bare skin. It was exactly what I was trying not to think about the entire time I was with her.

She smelled clean. She probably washed her hands with soap right before coming out from the back room, but she also had a musky scent. She smelled like shower sex. I don’t break a sweat when there are ten guys with sticks skating toward me at breakneck speed, but it took everything I had to keep it together when Bridget was that close to me. To have that kind of restraint—hot.

Particularly when her perky ass was in my face and then she landed on my lap. The women in this town, I’ve noticed, have better than average assesdue to the hilly nature of Kenton and all the uphill walking they do. Hers is the best I’ve seen here. The best I’ve had in my face anywhere.

But I didn’t ask her out. Because I have to go back tomorrow for another fitting. And then I have to go in again to pick the suits up. That’s when I’ll ask if she wants to hang out sometime, although she did write her personal number on her business card and she does have my number. By then it’ll feel like a third date. For me and Bridget and Uncle Tommy—nothot.

That gives me the wrong kind of chills.

My phone keeps dinging with text notifications. I’m running late for meeting the guys at the bar because I stayed an extra hour after today’s session with my favorite kid at goalie camp, to work on his glove hand. We aren’t supposed to have favorites, but that little shit is my favorite. He asked for extra help, and I was happy to give it.