“Okay,” Carolina said with a laugh, sliding off the barstool. “Let’s go look at clothes.”
Stella was amazed at Carolina’s eye for clothing, at how she could spot upcoming trends and create something that she instinctively knew people would want. Or at least everything that hit Stella’s hot buttons. Carolina had created lines for both men and women that were simple yet luxurious at the same time. As Carolina walked her through the sketches and some of her line that she’d already completed, Stella mentally ticked off items she wanted.
Mostly everything. And she could see Trick in so many of the men’s clothes as well.
“This line is fantastic, Carolina. I love everything. And those leather pants with the ankle zippers, especially paired up with that sequined sweater? Those belong in my closet—now.”
Carolina grinned. “Wait until you see the mohair ankle boots I’m putting the model in to walk with that outfit.”
“I hate you.”
“You won’t hate me when I send you the outfit—plus the boots—after the show.”
Stella threw her arms around Carolina and hugged her. “This is one of the many reasons why you’re my best friend. But not for the clothes. Really. Not for the clothes.”
Carolina laughed. “I know. Now, we need to get out of here. My brain is toast and I’m starving.”
“If you’re going to want to go out to eat, I need a shower.”
“Okay, we’ll stop at your place first.”
Carolina closed up her studio and they grabbed a taxi to Stella’s apartment, both of them complaining about how damn cold it was as they jumped in and out of the cab.
“Why is it so fucking cold already?” Stella asked.
“Because it’s New York?” Carolina replied.
“Good point.” Arm in arm, they hurried into the building. The wind was picking up. Stella could smell snow in the air. It was early December and she wasn’t ready for snow yet.
Just the quick dash in the cold made Stella long for that nice warm bath, but it was going to have to wait. She thought the glass of wine might slow her down, but it was amazing what hanging out with a friend could do for her energy level. She stripped out of her clothes and took a quick shower, then chose a pair of skintight leggings, her favorite pair of combat boots, a dark tank, and a sheer silver top, topping it off with a leather studded jacket. She complemented the look with several necklaces.
“I love how you can take five minutes to put one hell of a kickass outfit together,” Carolina said, studying her as she came out of her bedroom. “You should help me put clothes together for the show.”
Stella laughed. “You don’t need me. Your sense of fashion rocks. Look at you with your skinny jeans and those leather boots that, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d kill you to take off of you. And I covet that black trench coat with all those zippers. You know I’m a sucker for zippers.”
“I know. I designed this with you in mind. And you might be getting one for Christmas.”
“I do love Santa. And you. Have I mentioned how much I love you?”
“Not more than three or four times in the past hour.”
Stella grabbed her purse and looped her arm in Carolina’s. “Be prepared to hear it a few more times. Let’s go.”
They both devoured huge chicken and cashew salads at a corner restaurant near Carolina’s place, then headed up to her apartment.
“I have beer here, since Drew prefers it over wine,” Carolina said after they hung up their coats.
“I’ll just have water,” Stella said. “I can only dance off so many calories.”
Carolina gave her a sidelong look. “You could use a few more calories.”
“So everyone tells me. Believe me, after the show I’m going to eat two pizzas and guzzle a six-pack.”
They took seats on the sofa. Stella flexed her ankles, giving her legs a long stretch. She didn’t want to tighten up after today’s rehearsal, and since she’d missed her bath, she knew that was a possibility.
“Where is that hot boyfriend of yours, anyway?” Stella asked. “I know it’s not a game night tonight.”
“Some team meeting about something or other. I admit I was only half listening when he called me and told me about it because I was knee-deep in fabric selections.”
“That’s certainly understandable. Pretty fabric is much more important than hockey.”
Carolina grinned. “To me it is. Probably not to Drew.”