“I can’t wait for this. I’m so glad there are security cameras that’ll catch this. I’m going to have a copy made to take home and keep forever. Think how safe my job will be.”
I laughed and walked around the stage to dump the trash bag on top of it. It was quite amazing how big it was—the stage, not the trash bag—and moved back to the stacks of boxes. I peeked inside the boxes and shifted them around, organizing them based on their contents. There were the every day fliers, plus the specialized ones based on particular deals that, in my head, I named Thursday, Friday, Saturday. The annoying box was the last one I moved—those were mixed, which I guessed was overflow.
They couldn’t just send them in smaller boxes, obviously. At least they’d wrapped each design separately so I didn’t need to organize them all.
Vicky sliced the last box open and eyed me. “That’d be easier if you were up here with me.”
I took three steps back and pointed to my skirt with both hands. “I can barely walk up stairs in this thing. Getting up onto the stage is going to flaunt my underwear.”
“Well, you’re in the right place for it, and there’s actually nobody here to see it.” She laughed and tugged the bag toward her. “Just use a chair.”
I looked down at the Devil Shoes. “Uh...I’m not sure Christian Louboutin had chair-climbing in mind when he designed my shoes.”
“Oh lord, you’re a special snowflake today. Take them off, doll. They’re just feet. As long as you don’t have any bunions or anything, we’re good.”
“No. I don’t.” I bent forward at the waist and pulled my shoes off. I set them on the table closest to me before swinging a chair around and attempting to step up onto it.
My skirt didn’t give. At all. It didn’t rip, either, so that went in my favor too.
Even when I hitched it up and tried to sort of bounce off my other foot, it wouldn’t give enough. Vicky could have helped, but when I almost fell backward, she burst into peals of laughter and leaned back on her hands.
I sighed.
“What on Earth are you doing?” West walked from the bar to us, his hair messed up where he’d obviously been running his hand through it. “Are you practicing for an audition for Cirque du Soleil?”
I gave him the look. You know the look—the sarcastic, dry one that said, Are you fucking kidding me?
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. How did you guess?”
“The awkward barefoot bouncing clued me in.” His eyes twinkled. “Do you want a hand?”
“I’m good.” I waved him off and rolled my skirt up another inch. Now, it was just above my knees. “My skirt wasn’t made for climbing.”
I made another attempt to get onto the chair, but I still couldn’t do it—and I didn’t find myself all that surprised when West grasped my waist and effortlessly lifted me to sit on the edge of the stage. I gripped his arms, my teeth sinking into my lower lip.
Boy, they were nice arms. I wanted to squeeze them.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Any time.” His eyes lingered on my mouth before he stepped back, forcing me to drop my grip on his upper arms. “How do they look?”
“Hm?” Apparently, my hands had dropped, but my focus hadn’t, because I was staring at him. “Oh. The fliers. Right.”
Vicky laughed again.
I glared at her. “I’ve only seen the general one, but... Hold on. Let me grab one. I’ve pushed them around.” I scooted back on my butt before rolling onto my knees and crawling across the stage. At least it was super clean...
And I just stuck my butt pretty much in West’s face.
I peered over my shoulder, my teeth once again in my lip, and looked at him. He was standing perfectly still, his eyebrow raised, his eyes shining with a lusty burn, and his lips curved into his dirty, sexy smirk.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to force my butt into your face.” That’s an apology I’d never thought I’d have to make.
“I’m not complaining,” he offered. “If that makes a difference.”
Yes, it did, but it shouldn’t have. Damn it. Why couldn’t we put our attraction in time out? If it were up to me, I’d have had our mutual one in the naughty corner quicker than you could set the timer.
This went against everything I’d said not twenty minutes ago.
“Here’s the general flier.” Vicky cleared her throat and handed it to him, glancing at me. “We didn’t unpack the others yet.”
“And Beck just left you?” West asked, taking the flier.
“No. He wanted to get stuff done next door before the hot lesbian cocktail chick gets here.”
“He doesn’t know she’s a lesbian. Got it.” West scanned the flier before looking up at me. “These are amazing.”
My cheeks lightly flushed, and I shrugged a shoulder. “They’re not too bad.”
“Not too bad? You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Mia, these are brilliant.”