Fat Cat Liar

“Stop freaking me out and help me.”

“Help you what?”

I wave my hand up and down my body. “Do I look okay?”

“You always look great.”

“But do I look tired, ragged, run down from a long day?”

“No, you look as fresh as when you strolled in here eight hours ago.”

I hobble to the full-length mirror and wish I had a few minutes to freshen my make-up. “You’re a liar, but I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Here.” She tosses a sparkly lip gloss to me. “Put that on; the glitter will draw his attention to your lips. Men love lips.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I read it in Cosmo.”

That explains it. If it’s in Cosmo, then Haley declares it true. I apply the lip gloss, fling it back to her, and leave to find him.

Lawson’s not hard to locate. Not only does he tower over the racks, his black hat easily visible, but he’s surrounded by three sales clerks. As I approach, I observe each of them flip their hair, cock their hip, and lean in to show their cleavage. None of them care the others are doing the same to draw his attention.

As if he can sense me, his head snaps my way and his smile grows. He walks away from the women without a word. His eyes never waver from mine as he comes closer.

He doesn’t slow down, whisking me into his arms and kissing my cheek softly. “Hi.” His lips graze my ear before he sets me on my feet.

I grip onto his forearm to remain standing, the feel of his lips still tingling on my skin.

“Hi,” is all I can force out.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I barely whisper.

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by. Hope you don’t mind.”

“You were in the area?”

“Yes, we have a job site down the

road. I was there today.”

“You have a job site all the way down here?”

“We have job sites all over. Construction in New York is a plentiful business.”

“What kind of job is it?”

“Large scale penthouse remodel. The new owners gutted the place. It’s a hell of a project. We reduced it to bare bones today.”

My eyes rake over his face, neck, chest, and arms. He’s perfectly polished, not a speck of dirt on him. Even his hands are clean. “Do you wear coveralls when you work? You certainly don’t look like you’ve been doing demolition.”

He steps back abruptly, forcing my arm to fall to my side. I start to wonder if I’ve said something wrong, until his lip tips in a sideways grin.

“Actually, I’m the boss. It’s easy to stay clean when you’re barking orders and keeping your crew on schedule.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Ahh, you’re one of those demanding bosses.”