“So, this isn’t an everyday thing? Finding a damsel in distress on the way home and whisking them off to the local office supply center?”
“It’s the way into my pants. Postage stamps work every time.”
She smiles, scrunching up her nose in a way that is so unassumingly delightful I have to check myself.
Who is this woman that is causing me to think words like delightful?
It’s freaking me the fuck out, to be honest.
But there’s something about Millie.
Something that makes me pause and consider her. She isn’t some woman I’d pick up at a bar. She’s different in ways I don’t really understand. Both feisty and innocent. Smart and sincere.
“Handwritten letters are actually pretty romantic. Hardly anyone sends them anymore. Filthy-Sweet makes me feel like I’m helping people pause and take the time to send more than a text to the people they care about.”
“Filthy-Sweet?”
She nods as I drive toward a pub downtown. “That’s the name of my card company.”
I park, and we head inside, sliding into a booth. Sitting opposite her, I have to say what I’m thinking. “Filthy-Sweet? I don’t get it.”
“It’s like, messages that are both cute and sexy?”
A waitress named Cady comes over and we order beers and burgers.
“Hey, Mox,” she says, “Long time no see.”
I nod. We went to school together years ago. And after that, we hooked up a few times. “Yeah, things are busy down at the shop.”
“Right.” She raises her eyebrows and looks over at Millie. She’s sitting there in her little dress and perfectly done hair, perched in the booth like she’s never been in a pub before. Hell, maybe this little thing hasn’t. “Anyway, you holding up okay? Heard from some folks you still don’t know how to return a phone call.”
I lean back in the booth, guessing Cady’s about to make it real personal.
“Hey, sorry about--”
Cady waves me off. “Whatever, Mox. I’m cool.”
When Cady leaves, wearing nothing but a sour face, I apologize to Millie.
“It’s fine. You seem like a popular guy.”
I snort. “I don’t think the word’s popular.”
“Manwhore more appropriate?” she asks with a blank face.
“Look, I’m not tryin—”
She cut me off. “I’m just teasing. It’s none of my business what you do. And I’m not surprised, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, look at you.”
I run a hand over my chin. “And what am I looking for exactly?”
“Come on, Moxon,” she scoffs playfully. “You’re 6’4”. Ripped, handsome as all get out, work with your hands, probably model for like, male calendars or something. You know what you are.”
I smirk. “So, you think I’m cute?”
“I should never have--”
“Oh, no, you should have. I like it when you get all excited.”
Her cheeks flush and I grin, loving the fact she’s getting all riled up. I’m also liking the fact she isn’t getting all territorial about me and the fact I clearly have a past.
“Look, tell me more about these filthy-sweet messages.”
She twists her lips, thinking. “Um, well, like, a Valentine’s card I have out this year reads I Could Binge Watch You Taking a Shower All Night Long.”
I snort. “You wrote that?”
“What, are you surprised?”
“Yeah. You seem...”
“I’m not a prude. I’m wearing black stockings for goodness sakes.”
“I know, it’s just--” I pause as Cady delivers our beers. Lifting mine to take a drink first, I ask, “What else you got?”
“Hmm, a popular card I have says, Instead of takeout, can I just eat you?”
I spit out my beer, so surprised at the words coming from her mouth.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
“Why is it so hard to believe?” She shrugs. “Wanna see some of the designs?”
I tell her fuck yes, and she pulls out her phone from her purse. She pulls up the Etsy app and with a few taps of her finger, we are at her virtual store.
There are dozens of impressive designs, and she shows me the one for takeout, and I burst out laughing. It’s got a box of Chinese food crossed out with a big fat red X.
“Wow,” I say, thoroughly impressed with her clever takes on phrases and innuendo-laced art. “You designed all that?”
“Yeah.” She twists her lips up and doesn’t say more. I see high review ratings on her listings with comments about everything being so well done. Nothing half-assed and I feel shitty about my craft comments earlier. This isn’t a hobby. Millie is a true artist.
“So, you say it was a surprise that I design the Filthy-Sweet stuff, but I bet there are things about you that would surprise me.”
The food arrives, and I dip a fry in ketchup. “Maybe. But since I’m not a real man I doubt you’d care.”
“Try me.”
“I’m a cat person. Most people would think I own a dog but my mama loved cats and so I have one. Kinda, you know, in memory of.”
“That’s incredibly sweet.” She smiles softly, then her eyes narrow. “Is it just a line though? Because it’s a little too perfect. And from the way that waitress is looking at you, I swear you must have done something to her as well as every other woman in this bar.”