It makes sense though. Most of the women in our little town are hopelessly suburban with frosted high-lights and mid-tier designer bags. Meanwhile, Marcus is a pilot flying the friendly skies, dropping in on exotic locales like St. Petersburg and Kyoto. Why would he be interested in anyone from dinky little Medina? Why would he be interested in me, for that matter?
The answer is: of course he wouldn’t. I’m just his daughter’s chubby best friend, whom he’s known since I had braces and a perm. Ugh. The memory of my old hair makes me shudder because I looked like a brown poodle groomed for an AKC Championship meet. I wish I could destroy all my pictures from that era, but it wouldn’t do much good because nothing can purge the mental image of myself at that age. Even worse, Marcus knew me during that time of my life, so it’s basically a moot point.
Anyways, Faith and I had a great time last night hanging out. She called me at the last minute yesterday, whining about how the house was empty and her dad was gone. She practically begged me to come over. Plus, my bestie promised to let me experiment on her using a few of my new make-up techniques, so I was game.
It was awesome because my aspiration is to be a full-time professional make-up artist, although right now, I work at Crème, a small cosmetics boutique in downtown Medina. It’s a wonderful store that sells really great beauty supplies, including the latest in skin care and wellness doo-dads. As an added bonus, working there is fun and I get an employee discount, so I’m constantly stocking up.
Besides, my friend is gorgeous, so it’s not very hard to do make-up on Faith. She looks beautiful no matter what, so I can try a ton of different techniques without going horribly wrong.
That’s when I push the blankets off my form. Well, it’s time to wake up. My friend will probably be up soon too, so I might as well get some coffee started. I scramble around and look for my pajamas. Ah, there they are. They’re just a silky camisole and a pair of boy shorts, which I lost during my self-love last night. Then, I check my phone for any new notifications but there’s nothing interesting. Good. I like it when things are peaceful and quiet.
Opening the bedroom door, I make my way to the top of the stairs when the smell of coffee hits my nostrils. No way. Is Faith awake after all? That girl usually sleeps until noon if given the chance, but maybe today is an off day. Who knows?
I traipse down the stairs, a smile on my face.
“You should’ve woken me up,” I begin to say as I enter the kitchen. But then I stop in my tracks when I see it’s not Faith at the table. It’s her father, Marcus.
“I thought I’d let you sleep,” the dark man growls in a low voice, looking at me over the paper.
My mouth opens, my eyes wide. What in the world? Why is Marcus here? I thought he wasn’t getting back until later today! I gawk some more before finally pulling myself together.
“Um, hi Mr. Randall!” I say brightly. “I didn’t know you were home. I’m so sorry.”
Marcus sits at the table with the newspaper and a mug of coffee in front of him. He looks so damn handsome wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but they hug him just the right way. The thin fabric of the t-shirt highlights his broad shoulders, and beneath those shorts, his legs are tanned and strong. His black hair is a little tousled from sleep, but otherwise, he looks good enough to eat.
I take a moment to stare at him before I realize just how little I’m wearing right now in my tiny shorts and even tinier tank top. What was I thinking, coming downstairs in this skimpy outfit? But of course, it’s because I had no idea a man would be in the house.
“Don’t let me get in your way. I got back late last night,” he remarks with a mysterious smile on his face. I try to make the best of things, walking over to the coffee pot in what I hope is a casual manner.
“And you’re already awake? I would’ve slept all day.”
He grins, those blue eyes gleaming a bit.
“I got six hours. That’s all I need. I’m used to sleeping through a lot of disruptions.”
Is there sub-text to that? But I force myself to stay calm. There’s no way Marcus could have heard me last night, right? After all, he was probably dead tired from traveling non-stop, so he would have gone straight to bed and slept like a zombie. But I’m still incredibly embarrassed, so I just shoot him a quick smile before spinning on my heel.