Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
I open my mouth to say something, to argue a point I don’t have.
It’s hopeless.
I’ve fallen deeper and harder for Brandon than any dreams I’ve ever had of making and selling dresses for a living.
One look from him tells me that he knows it too. But I wonder if he feels the same, I mean I wonder if he feels exactly the same as I do?
Chapter Twelve
Brandon
Seeing where she actually lives. Seeing how she lives.
It makes me mad. Madder than hell I didn’t find her sooner so I could lift her out of all this.
But she’s so passionate about what she does. So defensive of her bosses, and I can tell at a glance it’s mainly because they’re the only friends she has.
Friends who help her, sure. But they also profit from her along the way.
I want to put my foot down, to pick her up and carry her home if I have to, but no.
I can’t make Ashlee do anything she doesn’t want to, nor would I. Especially when I can see how loyal she is, how devoted to her work she is too.
It reminds me of when I was her age, maybe younger.
My first boss wasn’t my friend though, he was a real asshole. I lived in my beat up pick-up truck, working twelve hours or more, seven days a week for next to nothing.
But, I learned a trade and a whole lot more.
I learned how to treat people and how to run a business successfully, and all by simply doing the opposite to what I was shown by example from my boss.
I can’t begrudge Ashlee her dream of being a designer and dressmaker.
But dammit to hell, I’ll bite my tongue in half before I see her stay in this shoebox for another week.
She has a full schedule this weekend, her bosses are sick. I get that part.
So what can I do to help?
Instead of nagging her, telling her she lives in a hole in the ground and I can solve all her problems in a minute, I decide to let her take the lead for now.
Whatever she needs help with this weekend, I’m here for her because as much as this place turns my stomach, I won’t leave her here alone and if she won’t come with me today then I’ll stay here with her.
Simple.
Hearing and seeing the emotion in her voice, it shows me how passionate she is about what she does.
She’s a worker, like me. She loves what she does and she does it well.
I’ll never get between her and her work, but I will make sure she gets to where she wants to be and gets paid what she’s worth when she does it.
Once she cottoned on that I never went home when I left earlier, that I’ve been watching her most of the day, her mood shifts.
She’s not so defensive. She softens a little and I can see too that between the two of us there’s no hope other than being together forever now that we’ve finally found one another.
“So. Where’s the dining room?” I joke, looking around. My belly letting out a whale song that signals I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, something I never do.
She flushes and looks at her feet.
“I’m kidding,” I assure her, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to me as she looks up.
“Let’s order something in and then you can tell me what to do to help with what needs doing,” I explain, noting her expression change from worried to horrified.
“Ah. No. No, no. No!” she says suddenly, holding up both hands and starting to pace the tiny space she calls her apartment before putting both hands to her temples.
“You can’t stay here. I mean, what if Mark or Cynthia come back? Where would you...”
“What would you...”
“I mean, I can’t just...”
She asks a series of half questions out loud, making me smile to myself as I fold my arms and stand in front of the door. My own way of telling her I’m not going anywhere so she’d better get used to the idea.
“I have a lot of work to do,” she finally announces, looking up at me with those pleading eyes again. Begging me not to distract her, but also needing me to do more than help her out with dresses and suits.
“You want me to leave?” I ask, knowing she doesn’t.
“It’s not that, Brandon. I just—”
Before she can finish I move over to her in one step and lean down, kissing her on the mouth. My hands have a life of their own now with her, and before I know it one of them is up inside her fleecy sweater, squeezing her breast gently as my tongue tells her everything else she needs to know.
She mews and shifts herself against me fully. She’s so warm, so small in my arms and I only stop kissing her long enough to look around for her bed, which is the one thing lacking in this place.