Styled (Travesty Book 4)

by Piper Lawson

  And to show Mick the Prick he could get the hell off my turf.

  “What do you think?” I folded my arms and leaned against the wall.

  “You listened.” Jordan turned back to me, a small smile on her face. This afternoon her hair was twisted into some kind of knot on top of her head. A pale blue sleeveless top flowed over denim shorts. Without the dress and heels from the party, she looked like a kid again as she leaned against a display anchored by a giant cardboard dump truck.

  I’d gotten a lead on the space through Dom. It wouldn’t be available for a couple of months, and until then it was full of kids clothes—little overalls and dresses everywhere. Add to it that the store was open, and parents and their little squirts milled around.

  “OK, obviously if you rented this place, it wouldn’t look like Toys ‘R’ Us. How would you want it to look?”

  Jordan’s eyes moved over mine. “The manager we hire will decide that. Ensuring it’s on brand, yeah, but it’ll be his or her call. I’ll be back in New York. What?” she asked at my expression.

  “Right. I forgot you weren’t going to run it.”

  I turned to inspect the built-in bookshelves, which were lined with pink and blue paper. That would need to be stripped. I pressed down on the shelf, assessing.

  “So then why are you on real estate duty?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “I have the most experience in retail. It’s Lex’s dream to expand but I’ve been pushing the physical part of what we do. It’s my chance to make a real contribution to our business.” She hesitated. “And also my friends thought I needed…I don’t know. An escape before the wedding.”

  “From what?”

  “Life,” she said simply.

  The other night we’d talked about a lot of things. Now I wondered what she’d left out.

  “If I was here,” Jordan said, pulling my attention back to her, “I’d probably be playing with the displays.”

  “The displays.”

  “Yeah. I like to make these little vignettes.” I raised a brow and she went on, a flush creeping up her pale cheeks like she was sharing a secret.

  “I put the mannequins into poses that create a story. In SoHo I did a display of three girls walking a dog. We got this stuffed Rottweiler from a toy store and put three leashes on it. Or one time I put a mannequin in a bubble bath.”

  She started toward the back of the store where it was quieter. I followed, feeling like she had me on a leash. “But where were the clothes?”

  She turned at the end of the shelves, lifting a toy dump truck to inspect it. “Some were arranged on the floor to look like she’d dropped them there. Others were hanging on the rack for when she got out.”

  I could picture the displays, but more than that, I could picture Jordan making them. Screwing up her face as she decided what crazy thing to do next.

  “That sounds incredible,” I said honestly. “I’ve seen displays like that in Paris.”

  Her expression brightened, and she set the toy down.

  “You didn’t tell me you’d been to Paris.” Jordan brushed past me, stepping around a train set display in the middle of the room.

  “Can’t tell you everything at once. Ruins the mystery.”

  Jordan let out a half-laugh, turning back. “Of all the things I’d call you, mysterious isn’t one of them.”

  “What would you call me?” A kid shrieked and clapped somewhere behind me but neither of us turned to look. Instead, I stepped closer to her.

  “Ambitious. Confident. And you’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”

  “Stop it. You’re making me blush.” Her smile was slow to start, but when it stretched across her face I was glad I’d waited for it.

  We were practically breathing the same air, and I could smell her scent. The light citrus was shampoo, not perfume.

  “Anything else?” I prodded.

  Her eyes moved back and forth on mine. Wariness edged in, and something else.

  “The ceilings in this place demonstrate remarkable craftsmanship.” I flexed, pointing up, and her gaze went to my arms.

  She shook her head. “Fine,” she huffed. “You’re not the worst to look at.”

  “Careful, your enormous compliments might go to my head,” I teased.

  I wasn’t sure why I was pursuing this. The whole point was that the tension between us, the attraction—because now that I had the word, that’s what it was—wasn’t sexual.

  But Jordan’s little groan had the hairs on my neck standing up.

  “What do you want me to say, Ethan? You’re fuck-hot and you know it.”

  Her frustrated words stroked along my skin. The rush of pleasure hit me like a bolt of electricity, as powerful as it was unexpected.

  Jordan’s eyes widened on mine, her naked lips just parted like she’d just realized she’d said too much.

  A mother turned to glare at us, but I barely noticed. I was speechless for the first time in as long as I could remember.

  But before I had to come back with a response, Jordan ducked her head.

  “OK. This instalment of the Ethan Cameron Ego Trip has officially come to an end,” she mumbled. “Take all your personal belongings and exit on the right.”

  She started toward the front door. I laughed under my breath.

  “Hey, Jersey?”

  “What?”

  I waited until she’d paused. Turned, her expression a blend of impatience and uncertainty on mine.

  “You’re cute too.”

  I don’t know why I said it, except to see if that flush would find its way down her neck to the tops of her breasts peeking over her tank. But I did, and it did, and damn if I wasn’t suddenly thinking of what else would make her blush.

  Stop the bus.

  I was enjoying this agenda-free thing we had going on. I wasn’t trying to get somewhere with Jordan. She wasn’t the kind of girl I’d have under me in the back of my car.

  But, I realized, I liked making her uncomfortable. Jordan could deflect unwanted attention, like at the party. Still, she didn’t know what to do when she couldn’t turn tail or fight. The girl was really fucking sweet when she was embarrassed.

  “I think I’ve seen enough,” Jordan went on, turning away again. “I like it a lot, and it ticks all the boxes. If I send pictures to Lex and Ava and they’re onboard, can you tell them we’ll take it?”

  I shoved down the sigh. We now resume our regularly scheduled programming.

  “Yeah, we can do the application online,” I offered, catching up to her in a few strides. “If you’re sure this place isn’t too small for what you want?”

  “No. I told you, we need to play this one safe.”

  “Your wish is my command.” I checked my phone and found her watching me when I looked up.

  “Ethan? Thank you.”

  “Sure. Hey,” I added on impulse, “do you want to grab lunch before I drop you off? I have a few minutes before my next appointment.”

  “I would, but I have to go interview prospective managers.”

  “Right.” I let her lead the way out of the store, and pulled the door behind me. “You should at least have some fun once those are done.”

  “Like driving your car?” She tossed me a glance that had me laughing.

  “Nice try. Not going to happen.”

  “I might have something planned.” I raised my brows. “If I tell you, you can’t make fun of me.”

  “I can and I will.”

  She took a breath and I grinned. Yeah. Embarrassed Jordan might be my favorite version.

  “I want to take one of those celebrity tours.”

  “Those suck. I’ll take you. Tomorrow,” I decided on impulse, checking my phone. “You wanna see LA like a tourist? Get your sunscreen and your fanny pack, Jersey.”

  The developer’s offices were right down the road from our real estate office—literally on the same street, which gave me a rare few moments to walk.

  Jordan’s Cinderella spri
nt at the party hadn’t compromised my deal with Axe. As promised, he’d called up the developer the next day and his assistant had set up a meeting.

  I stepped inside the sleek glass building, and had barely introduced myself to the smiling woman on the front desk when Todd Barlow appeared.

  “Ethan,” he said, extending a hand.

  “Todd. I think we met at a conference last year.”

  “Good memory. Follow me. I’d like to tell you more about our development.” I trailed him to a conference room, which boasted pictures of developments on the walls. “This will be the crown jewel in our collection.”

  “What’s there now?”

  “Old bungalows. We’re wrapping up the demolition this week, but there was some resistance from locals. You know how it is. Everyone wants a cause.”

  “Right.”

  My eyes surveyed the two sleek low-rise buildings.

  “One- and two-bedrooms?”

  “A few threes. Five hundred units, starting at one-five.” Shit. The commissions would pay off my own mortgage. Maybe get me a place on the beach. “Everything is ultra-modern. Environmentalist’s dream. We consulted with the top professionals and committees on this. We broke ground last week but need to start selling. No model yet, obviously, but there are some drawings I’ll send you over.”

  “Sounds terrific.”

  “We have our public launch in a couple weeks. Based on what Axe said, you’d be perfect for this. As you can imagine, it’s important we get the right fit. There’s just one other person we have in mind.”

  “I’m sure I can prove to you that I’m the right choice,” I replied.

  “I’m sure you’ll try.” The arrogant voice had me turning.

  I didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to know this one.

  Forty-four years old. Loves Viagra, overcompensation, and hitting on other men’s girlfriends.

  He grinned, twenty grand in caps flashing at me. “Hi, Ethan.”

  Fuck me.

  “Mick.”

  10

  Jordan

  Three weeks to the wedding

  “Morning, Ms. Briggs.”

  I waved at the concierge as I swept inside the building. The loop of the beach I’d completed the last three days left me with an addictive mix of exhaustion and energy.

  So did our success the day before. I’d sent Lex and Ava the La Brea listing, and updated projections for break-even numbers based on that store. Like me, they were happy to see past the dump trucks.

  Not only was it just inside the top of our price range, but I was confident if I could talk with Taylor, I’d get her to see we weren’t a threat.

  I’d also met with the shortlist of candidates for the manager gig. The first two were a bust but the third was great. She was a few years older than us, had all the experience we wanted and was excited about the brand. I’d called references within an hour, and texted Lex and Ava immediately after to tell them the good news.

  I was already thinking about what we’d do with the space. Sure it was small—tiny really—but we could make it work. Though it wasn’t my job I’d started sketching out layouts for the boutique. And thinking about what pieces could go in it, what vignettes I could do.

  This wasn’t supposed to be a vacation, but it felt refreshing all the same. I didn’t need to lie on a beach somewhere to get back the good vibes Colton had demolished.

  I’d been planning to spend the evening walking around LA, but on impulse I ducked into a salon I’d found on Yelp. An hour later there had been a pile of hair that looked like a collie had been shaved in the middle of the floor. But all I could look at was the razored edge of my hair that hit the back of my neck and angled down steeply to my collarbone. I’d celebrated with a drink at a jazz club, letting the music carry me away.

  After a night’s sleep plus the run and my shower, any magic from my hair stylist had worn off. I turned a blowdryer on the newly-short strands, trying to remember what she’d told me to do.

  I inspected the bottles and tubes she’d loaded me down with on my way out of the salon. The labels said things like “Fluf” and “Creme” and “XXL Shine,” which sounded more like a car wax than a hair product.

  I bypassed the styling products and, instead, delved back into the mystery bag Ava had shoved into my suitcase.

  So far it’d produced the dress I’d worn to Ethan’s party the other night and a pair of high heels. When I dumped the rest of the contents on the bed—most of which would need to be ironed, I noted with a cringe—I realized most was from our own collection.

  Despite Ava’s insistence that I should, I rarely wore Travesty. It’s not that I don’t like fashion. I do. But our line is a little cotton candy for my taste, and I don’t like the idea of dressing for other people. In LA I was surprised to see so many people dressing to express themselves. More than in New York.

  I liked it.

  Lifting a navy skirt with a fuchsia pinstripe down the inside in my hands, I wondered how I’d missed this one.

  Now I tugged it over my newly shaved legs and threw on a yellow tank as bright as my mood. The razored edge of my hair tickled my skin, and I smiled as I went to make a coffee in my borrowed kitchen.

  For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t waiting for the sky to fall. We’d have a store, thanks to the application I’d prepared over takeout dinner the night before. I felt good, physically, from the running. After my minor slip-up reading Colt’s message the other night there’d been no more texts. And no more thoughts of him.

  Which has nothing to do with the tall and distracting hulk of a dude taking you on a tour in an hour.

  I’d figured the hormonal reaction would wear off when I spent more time with Ethan. Maybe it would’ve if he was as smug and arrogant as I’d first thought. But he was also clever and upfront about who he was and what he wanted.

  Since the party I’d found myself noticing more than just his body. Yesterday after leaving the boutique, I’d studied his mouth while he drove, wondering what it would feel like to have those firm lips against mine.

  Since no one could know the contents of my twisted head, I played it out. Ethan would kiss like a pirate, I decided. Take-no-prisoners, no-holds-barred, hand over your gold—and your panties.

  Not my style.

  But I got a little rush down my spine when I thought about it. That rush settled into a totally inappropriate tingling between my legs.

  Which was a non-issue, since that wasn’t remotely on Ethan’s radar. Sure, for a moment in that store the day before, it’d felt like he was flirting. But the guy could flirt with a fire hydrant.

  When I emerged from my bedroom, the phone rang. I bolted across the room, hitting accept before checking the call display.

  “Jordan.”

  The voice was familiar, but not the one I was expecting.

  “Dad. How was Tokyo?” I shifted a hip against the counter, glancing at the door as if Ethan might walk through it.

  “Busy. I know I haven’t had a chance to call since you’ve been in LA. I wanted to remedy that. How’s your accommodation?”

  “Five star. I can’t believe this is where you put employees up.”

  “You’d know if you’d kept working for me.”

  I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes. “I’m a little occupied at the moment. We’re getting a new boutique for Travesty. I’ve been looking at stores all week, and I think we finally found one. What did you do in Tokyo?”

  “We bought a new company.” It was impossible to outdo my father. “You’d like this new business, Jordan…”

  I knew that tone of voice. “Dad, no.”

  If there was one thing my dad was, it was tenacious. One of the ways that showed up during my upbringing was his insistence I go to boarding school three months after my mom passed away from breast cancer. He trusted his business skills, but not his parenting abilities.

  Still, he’d been all I’d had. I hadn’t wanted to let him down, so I’d swallowed the fe
ar and gone along with it. I’d never had any doubt he wanted what was best for me, even if the execution left something wanting.

  “I ran into Colton at the box at the Yankees game last night.” His voice snapped me back. “I still don’t know why you two can’t work it out.”

  I considered telling him what I’d been thinking of saying for the past month. But like every time, I stopped. It was over. And even though Colt and I were done, I didn’t want to make his life worse.

  “It’s not going to work out. And you can try all you want, but Colton and I aren’t a merger you can engineer.”

  “We’ll see about that. Why are you still in LA if your work is finished?”

  “I’m going to Vegas this weekend.”

  “Vegas? With who?”

  “Friends.” I didn’t bother trying to explain the intricacies of a bachelorette party to my dad. Hell, I didn’t even know what they were myself. “If you need anything, we’re at the Aria hotel.”

  His voice softened. “That gala my media company’s sponsoring is at the Met next week. Come with me, I won’t know what to do with myself.”

  My dad hadn’t dated anyone since my mom, and sometimes I wondered if he was going to move on with his life. But I loved him and didn’t have it in my heart to push him toward someone else.

  “It’s pretty fancy.”

  “It is. But we’ve gone together, what, three years out of the last five?”

  “Four,” I admitted. “I’ll think about it.”

  “OK. Let Maria know if you need help getting home.”

  I had bought a flexible return flight, not knowing how long it would take to find a store. And once we finalized the lease, and the contract with our manager, there was no reason for me to stay in LA…

  “I’ll think about it. Bye, Dad.”

  Normally I’d say yes without hesitating. I loved spending time with my dad when it wasn’t about work, and we never got enough. He was always busy.

  But something tugged at me. Even though I didn’t need to be in LA, part of me wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

  I lifted the phone and opened a text window.