I tap my index finger over my bottom lip. "No. Hay as in you have a piece of hay on your shoulder."
He glances at his right shoulder where a single piece of golden hay is clinging to his suit jacket. Instead of reaching up to remove it, he turns back to me. "Tell me about your first day on the job."
I stare at the piece of hay, intent on finding out how it got there. This is Manhattan. The man works in an office in the tower above this store. There isn't a bale of hay for miles. "How did that hay get on your jacket?"
"I suspect it was the goat."
"The goat?" I make a frustrated sound. "What goat?"
"We didn't exchange names when we met. It might have been Billy. That's a fairly common name among goats, is it not?"
I furrow my brow. "I've never met a goat."
"Consider yourself lucky." He glances at the hay again before he turns his attention back to me. "Your shift ended an hour ago. I didn't expect to find you here."
My mind is spinning, but I lurch it to a stop with a deep breath. "The store closes in less than two hours. I stayed to observe the procedure you have in place for that."
"I'm impressed." He scans the area behind me. It's as busy as it was when I first arrived this morning. All day there has been a steady stream of customers, both women and men, filling the large space.
Some people come to Matiz with a determined mission in mind. They know which products they want, so they immediately approach one of the four sales associates who are on the floor at any given time.
Others wander in from the street. The bait that lures them is either the large sign in the front window that promises a free makeover or one of the many ads they've seen online that offers an initial discount of anywhere from five to ten percent.
Some leave with nothing in their hands, but most walk away with a Matiz shopping bag and every intention of returning.
Every staff member in the store including the professional makeup artist, who arranges and personally handles the makeovers, is cordial, kind and incredibly generous with their time.
"Did your uniforms not arrive at your apartment?" His gaze rakes me from my head down.
"They did." I feel my cheeks flush. I chose a simple white sheath dress and nude heels for my first day. The dress is fitted enough that it draws just the right amount of male attention without sending the wrong message.
"Is there a reason you're not dressed in the outfit you're contractually required to wear?"
"When someone enters a retail store with the intent to steal, the first thing they do is identify the security staff and where all the cameras are located." I move to stand beside him so I can survey the store from the same viewpoint he is. "Your security guards are all dressed in black. They wear identical black button up shirts and slacks. When you add an earpiece, it makes it very obvious that if you want to steal something, they are the people to avoid."
"Go on."
I feel his eyes on me. I continue, not wanting to get derailed when I'm trying to convey a message that could potentially save his company millions of dollars in lost revenue. "The surveillance cameras installed in here aren't state of the art. It's a common misconception that if you have cameras in full view that thieves will think twice before pocketing something. That's not necessarily true."
"The security consultant we hired before we opened this location would disagree with you." His breath brushes over my cheek.
I swallow hard. "I'd argue the point with them and I'd win."
I look up at him. He's completely in control. His eyes are focused intently on my face. The man is so breathtakingly gorgeous that he must stop traffic. The more I look at him, the more I understand Shelby's desperation at the restaurant in Vegas when he made it clear they were over.
She had him inside her. She knows the sounds he makes when he nears his release and the smell of the sweat on his skin when he's satiated and his eyes are closing in search of his next breath. It's that one breath that will fill his lungs again after he's used his chiseled body to bring me the most decadent pleasure I've ever felt.
Shelby. I meant Shelby. For fuck's sake. I meant me. I totally meant me. I want it to be me.
"I'll have my assistant set up a time for you to come to my office to further discuss your concerns." He contemplates me. "Are you free tonight?"
"To come to your office?" I question with a quirk of my brow. I'm already working late. I'm not sure I want to dedicate even more time to this job on my very first day.
"No." His gaze follows the curve of my shoulder, up my neck and to my lips. "To meet me for a drink."
"A drink?"
"Alcoholic, preferably." His eyes meet mine. "Consider it celebratory. Let's toast to your new position."