He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“I really hope I get the job now,” she worried her lip. “Or I may have to take them back.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “The boots stay,” he said firmly. “Even if Bettina doesn't keep you on.”
“You haven't seen them yet,” she reminded him, tipping her head to one side.
“No, but I've seen you light up when you talk about them. That's enough for me.”
She smiled at him, and reached across to touch his leg. “How was your day honey?” she asked softly.
“Fine. Busy. We're still invited to that barbecue at Luke's on Saturday,” he said remembering. “Debs is itching to show you off to her family.” He looked at her. “Now, don't get scared, but she has five sisters.”
“Scared?” said Pris. “On the contrary, I'm delighted. These days I view everyone as potential clients.” She cast him a sidelong look. “She ever try to fix you up with any of them?”
Jared shot her a startled look. “No.” What had given her that idea?
“Of course she did,” scoffed Pris shrewdly. “You were probably oblivious.”
To his annoyance he found his face growing hot. “Pris...”
“Don't worry, I'm sure you told them all you had a stripper girlfriend in Royston.” She smiled at him complacently.
Jared cleared his throat. “You do many makeovers today?” he asked a little uncomfortably.
Pris smiled to herself and told him all about her fully booked up client list for the day. By the time she'd finished her story about Cynthia Anders who had wanted to learn how to over-line her lips to appear fuller, Jared was pulling into a parking space.
“-she was so pleased,” Pris told him. “That she agreed she didn't need lip fillers after all.”
“That's good,” said Jared, who had no idea what a lip filler was. She beamed at him, and bounced out of the truck, so he knew he'd said the right thing.
“This place is huge,” said Pris with approval, turning full circle as she took in the large warehouse-style store.
"You got a list?" Jared asked her as he grabbed a shopping cart.
“In my head,” she told him confidently. “Fleece blanket, serving bowls, photo frame, wine glasses, occasional table.”
They meandered through the aisles, finding their items and more, including throw pillows, a pepper mill, some place mats and even a small window blind that Jared eyeballed and reckoned would fit the bedroom. At the cash desk, Pris slid her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest.
“Tired?” he asked, against the top of her head.
“Not really,” she murmured, which he interpreted as a yes.
“Let's get take-out for dinner,” he suggested. “There's a chicken wing place, or a burger joint round back.” Then he remembered. “I think I saw a Mexican restaurant when we came in. They might be more likely to cater for vegetarians.”
“Hey, I don't mind a veggie burger and fries once in a while,” she told him easily. “Take-out does sound good.”
In the end that was what they did, and Pris fell asleep, still holding a salted fry, as they watched the sequel to the action film from a couple of nights before. Jared carried her through to the bedroom and removed her shorts and shirt, but left her in her underwear, as he pulled the covers up and over her. He settled next to her and lay awake for a long time, until she turned and rolled into him and then he relaxed and finally fell asleep.
**
Over the next couple of days at the beauty parlor, Pris didn’t think she was imagining the positive energy at Bettina's. Everyone was talking about it, Lois especially. She said the place had never been so buzzing. Pris just knew that she loved it and the end of her trial week was approaching way too fast. Billie's friend Patrick had done the first of their photo shoots with Carole-Ann after work on the Thursday. Lois had blown out Carole-Ann’s hair into big tousled curls with lots of volume and Pris had given her smoky eyes and nude, glossy lips. Bettina and Billie had dressed her in the black silk bustier Pris had found at the trailer, black hose, a pair of strappy stilettos belonging to Lois and a pair of high-waisted black shorts which used to belong to Bettina in her hey-day. Carole-Ann had looked smoking hot and Billie's friend had gulped when he had seen his model.
“We were thinking she could be perched on a stool in a sort of fifties glamor shot,” Pris had explained to him. “To show off Carole-Ann's killer legs.” They had borrowed one of Misty's retro stools from the diner.
“S-sure,” he had stammered, and Billie had helped him adjust his lights and reflectors as he took a series of shots.
“She looks amazing,” Lois had said clapping her hands with glee.
“She does,” Pris agreed. “Have you given any thought how you want your photo-shoot to look?”
“I have actually,” said Lois looking a little self-conscious. “I thought I'd like to have my hair up in pink curlers and I want to be wearing a cute little house-coat and speaking into one of those old-fashioned telephones and holding a martini. Me and Billie saw some vintage style phones for sale online and we thought we could use it as a prop in the shop window display afterwards. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds absolutely brilliant,” answered Pris truthfully. “I love it. What about Billie?”
“Oh Billie's got hers all figured out,” said Lois proudly. “She wants to have her hair up in a headscarf, be wearing dungarees and doing that pose you know like in that poster, showing her bicep and she's going to paint a tattoo on there that she's designed herself and be winking at the camera.”
“Wow,” said Pris, impressed at how everyone was running with the concept.
“What about you, hon?” asked Lois.
“Oh, well... I didn't want to be presumptuous. I don't know if Bettina's going to offer me a job after all,” Pris said with a wince. She darted forward to powder Carole-Ann's face which was starting to glisten.
“It's hot under these darn lights,” Carole-Ann exclaimed. “Phew!”
“You look spectacular Carole-Ann,” Billie assured her, hurrying forward and offering her iced water and a straw to drink it through so as not to ruin her lipstick.
Lois fluffed Carole-Ann's hair as Bettina conferred with Patrick. “How about one of her sat astride the stool and facing forward,” the older woman suggested. “Looking kinda bored and blase, you know? Leaning her jaw on her hand. She could put on those elbow length black gloves I bought.” She turned around. “Billie?”
“I'll get them Bettina,” said Billie eagerly and ran into the back room.
Pris didn't end up leaving work until gone half eight. She hurriedly sent a message to Jared, letting him know she was finally on her way home and walked to her car with Lois and Billie who were chattering away excitedly.
Her phone beeped, and she checked it to find Jared had replied. 'Ok'.
'What do you want to do about supper?' she texted, trying to remember what they had in the refrigerator. There was probably enough to cobble something together, but she hadn't had anything particular in mind.
'I got it covered', came the reply, surprising her. Maybe he'd already eaten? After all, it was pretty late. If so, she could happily just fix herself a cheese salad or something. Tucking her phone away in her purse, she was startled by the outline of a man regarding her intently from a store doorway opposite. She'd thought for a moment it was Harber, but this guy though slim, was dark, not blonde and his suit was crumpled and shabby, in a way that flashy Harber's would never be.
“You okay hon?” asked Lois, unlocking her car door.
“Fine,” Pris told her, tucking her phone away. She gave her head a slight shake. “I'll see you guys tomorrow morning.”
“Night, Pris,” called Billie.
“Night.” She climbed into her car and pulled away feeling ridiculously shaken. Glancing in her mirror she found he was no longer loitering on the side-walk but had disappeared. She was imagining things. Great. When she got
home, she found that Jared had laid the table and was pulling a pizza out of the oven. Half of it was covered in peppers and mushrooms and olives and the other half had some kind of spicy sausage on it.
“You made pizza?” she gaped, setting down her purse and kissing his cheek.
“It's just one of those pre-bought bases,” he said, cutting it into slices.
We need a pizza cutter, thought Pris, as she washed her hands in the sink. “But you still loaded it up with ingredients,” she pointed out. “I'm impressed.”
He smirked and placed garlic bread and a salad on the table in their new serving dishes.
Pris' stomach rumbled. “I didn't realize how hungry I was,” she exclaimed. “This looks amazing.”
He cleared his throat. “That's not all,” he said, drawing a bottle of white wine out of the fridge. “You don't have to drink my beer tonight, babe. Amos Fletcher assured me this is the good stuff.”
Pris blinked. “Oh my God,” she said. “You're really spoiling me!” Then to her total and utter embarrassment, she burst into tears.
Jared's face was a picture. He plunked the wine down on the table and drew her into his arms. “Bad day?” he asked in low, concerned tones, pressing kisses to her brow.
“Not at all!” she blubbed, clutching at his shirt. “I have no idea why I'm crying! I'm actually ridiculously happy!”
He drew back to look at her in concern. “Okay...” he murmured sounding unconvinced.
“Do I have panda eyes?” she asked shakily. He shook his head. “I bet I do.”
“You look beautiful, Pris. As always.” He was stroking a comforting hand up and down her back.
“Sorry,” she sniffed.
“Don't be,” he still had a guarded look in his eye. “Did Bettina say anything to you...?” he asked hesitantly.
“No,” she shook her head. “Nothing like that. Think I'm just a bit tired and strung out.” That made his eyes snap to hers. Why did he look so wounded by that? “I'm probably hormonal,” she babbled. “I have no idea where I am in my cycle. It's probably PMT.” He shook his head. Wait, could he tell where she was in her cycle?
“I'm a shifter, remember?” he said in a rumbly voice, as if reading her thoughts.
“But I'm not,” she said weakly. “How can you-?”
“I'm hyper aware of you,” he said by way of explanation. “Always have been.”
“Oh,” said Pris.
He opened and closed his mouth as if wanting to add something else, but thinking better of it. “Sit down, Pris. Let me provide for you.”
Was that why he looked so upset? she wondered as she helped herself to some salad and a slice of pizza. Because he took her words to mean she was tired and stressed, in spite his care of her? Her hand trembled as she stabbed at a slice of tomato. “I'm hyper aware of you too,” she found herself saying aloud, wanting to clear the air. “I-I think I'm feeling a bit frustrated, Jared,” she said laying down her fork. “I mean, being so close to you all this time physically, but not - you know,” she felt her face get hot. He had grown very still. “I mean, you're taking care of me in every respect but one...” she rambled on. “And -”
“Pris!” he said in a warning voice. “This discussion is not happening, I can't handle it, okay?” He blew out a shaky breath.
She stared at him. He wasn't kidding. Tension was coming off him in waves.
“Let's just eat,” he growled, nudging the garlic bread toward her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled and took a bite of pizza. Wow, she'd really put her foot in it! She concentrated on her plate for the next few minutes. She really was hungry. “Did you put chilli flakes on my side?” she asked, sitting back in her seat with a satisfied sigh. “That's good pizza.”
He was regarding her broodingly. “Yeah,” he said, jumping out of his chair. She wondered where he was going, but he only got as far as the sink and was pouring her a glass of wine.
“Thanks,” she said accepting the glass from him. “Sorry,” she said again frankly. “I didn't mean to pressure you into sex. You've made your stance clear. It wasn't fair of me.”
He stared at her a moment, before sinking back into his chair, muttering something under his breath, which sounded suspiciously like 'you'll be the death of me'.
She took a sip of the chilled wine. It surprised her with its crisp, dry flavor. "Amos was right," she said appreciatively. “This is a really nice wine.” She sighed and settled back in her chair.
“I'm going out,” said Jared, leaping impulsively from his chair.
“Out?” Pris regarded him with dismay. “Where?” He looked back over his shoulder and she saw the green glow in his eyes. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Your bear.”
“Yeah,” he said grimly. “Don't wait up for me.” He wrenched the trailer door open and added something which sounded like, 'I'll be tearing up trees by the root,' but Pris thought she must have heard that wrong. It must be really inconvenient, she thought distractedly as she cleared her plate and helped herself to some more salad, to have a were-beast side of your nature to pacify. She had finished her glass of wine with relish, and helped herself to another half glass as she cleared away, even though she told herself she shouldn't on a work night. She saran-wrapped the leftovers, hoping Jared might eat his on his return. He'd barely touched his supper, before flinging off. At lunchtime she had popped into one of those photo print while-you-wait places and had the photo of the two of them printed off her phone. She put that in the frame they had bought the previous night and put it in the middle of the shelf over the TV. Then she took a hot shower, climbed into her shorty pajamas and curled up on the sofa under their new cozy fleece blanket, building herself a nest with the matching blue scatter cushions. She'd barely switched on the TV and drained her glass, before she was yawning her head off. She didn't even hear him come in.
The next thing Pris knew, it was morning and the sound of the shower woke her up. She glanced at the clock and found she'd overslept by about half an hour. A fuzzy taste in her mouth reminded her of the previous evening's alcohol, and she groaned, rolling out of bed and making her way through to the kitchen. There she found the empty plates and bowls on the side, telling her Jared did eat his supper on his return. She filled the sink and washed them, leaving them on the drainer and then switched on the kettle. She was just pouring out the coffee when she heard the shower shut off, and the sound of his footsteps, prowling through the trailer. She ran a hand through her tousled hair and smiled when he appeared with a towel around his hips. “I didn't hear you get in,” she gulped and trying not to stare. Wow. She'd never get used to the sight of that physique. He walked right over to her and picked up his mug of coffee. She flinched as some droplets of water hit her. “Is there no hot water left?” she asked with a shiver.
“What?” he asked huskily. “There's plenty.” He took a swig of coffee. “I just needed a cold one.”
“Oh. Did you put me to bed last night?” she asked, taking a sip of her own coffee. “Last thing I remember is passing out on the sofa.”
“Yeah,” he rumbled, giving her a scorching glance up and down. “You were spark out.”
Pris looked down, but everything seemed intact. For a minute, the way his eyes had flared, she'd thought her buttons must have come undone. She looked back up uncertainly, but he was staring fixedly out the window now. “Um. Well, I'd better go wash and dress.”
He cleared his throat. “I'll drop you at work this mornin'. Then when I pick you up tonight I can take you to go celebrate, or commiserate, whatever's required.”
She blinked at him before remembering. Of course, it was Friday! The last day of her trial run at the beauty parlor. She felt a jolt of nerves. “Good thinking,” she agreed. “I'd better go get ready.”
He nodded, and took another sip of coffee.
Pris hurried to the bathroom, scrubbed her teeth, and washed her hair with an anxious eye on the time. it wouldn't do to be late, though Bettina's mind was sure to be made up already.
She blow-dried her hair and put on her make-up with a light hand, though she smudged her winged eyeliner from hurrying at one point. She took a deep breath, held it and started again. This time, she nailed it. With a triumphant 'Yesss', she sailed into the bedroom and picked out her outfit. She would wear her new ankle boots, she thought, teamed up with her black fitted trousers, the black ditzy blouse with the ruffles and her gold belt. Of course, she was ready in plenty of time and even managed a second cup of coffee before they had to leave.
“I told Luke we'd make the barbecue tomorrow,” he told her as they drove into town. “Even if we just stay for an hour or so.”
“Of course, I'm looking forward to meeting everyone,” said Pris. She went to pull her sunglasses down over her eyes, but then realized she’d left them in the trailer. “I can wear my new jeans,” she added happily. “What did you think of the boots?” she asked lifting up her leg and extending it so he could take a look. They were black suede and had graduating fringing around the high heel which Pris thought was adorable with a rose-gold tassel.
Jared glanced at her foot and arched an eyebrow. “Cute,” he said with a twist of his lips.
“If I get the job,” said Pris, crossing her fingers. “I'm going to buy the same boots in a tan. I think they'd look good with my jean shorts.”
Jared coughed. “You're not to wear those shorts outside the trailer unless I'm there,” he reminded her.
Pris waved a hand in a 'Yeah, yeah, I know,' type gesture.
“I'll pick up some more wine, from Fletcher's store to take,” he said, thinking aloud. “It's usually a bring a dish type thing, so we could take some veggie burgers along for you...”
“I can drive, if you want to drink, Jared,” Pris offered, feeling suddenly conscience-stricken. He was being so considerate. “After all, it's your family barbecue and...”
“It's fine,”" he said mildly. “I want you to relax and have a good time. I can share a few beers with Luke any old time.”
“Okay,” she said, and thought about the previous evening. “Everything's alright between us, isn't it?” she added uncertainly. “I know I put my foot in it last night and...”
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