He needed a name. Something. Anything.
A neglected memory cropped up in the corner of his mind and he grasped at that fucker, blew off the cobwebs, and threw out a name from when he’d done his best friend a solid by escorting his painfully shy sister to the prom when no one had asked her. “Piper Bradley, sir.”
“Well, that’s good to hear, son. So, it’s serious?”
As serious as it could be after one date with a brace-faced, curveless girl almost five years younger.
Sell it, Myers. You could sell a Porsche to the staunchest bishop in the heart of Amish country.
“Sure, it is. Been together a year now. Thinking of popping the question,” he called out with a mega-watt smile, to where his boss sat at the head of the conference room table scrutinizing him.
Sebastian cleared his throat on a cough. “Shit man, I can’t wait to see how you swing this one.”
Yeah, he couldn’t either.
“Good, good. I can’t wait to meet her. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find the inspiration to move things along and pop the question at the retreat,” Williams said with a gleam in his eye that made it crystal clear that he expected just that.
Just the thought of sliding a ring on any woman’s finger had a cold sweat trickling from his color down the dip in his spine.
Sliding that promise on his best friend’s little sister’s finger… yeah, that made his ass clench.
But the words were out as much as he wished he could grab the little bastards and shove them back down his throat.
He needed Piper, a ring, and a legion of prayers that he didn’t screw this up. No problem, he could do this. Call his buddy and ask to borrow his sister. Nothing weird about that at all. Perfectly normal. And…ask said sister’s ring size.
What’s the worst that could happen?
His buddy could punch him in the face.
A fat lip… that shit was temporary.
He could lose his friend.
Okay, that would sting, but borrowing her was one thing. It’s not like he planned to actually fuck her or anything.
Yup, he’d walk away with his friendship intact.
The rest of the meeting faded away into a series of mumbles while his mind raced with scenario after scenario.
What if Piper was still that shy girl from high school?
If she agreed, he’d be thrusting her into the kind of weekend that left no room for retreat. She’d be fully integrated into everything, whether she liked it or not.
And this wouldn’t be a cake walk like prom.
Nope.
There would be touching and affection. They had to sell a believable intimacy.
A brief memory surfaced of her pink lips curved in the shy smile, rosy skin, and Piper’s feathery voice.
Christ.
The meeting broke, and those few employees that had a shot at the partnership scattered like BBs from a buckshot and by the look in their greedy eyes, as they begun tactical planning.
Of course they had, after all, he’d started before the meeting even ended.
He pulled out his cell and dialed his best friend, Ryden, his only connection to Piper.
The bridge to his savior picked up after two rings. “Hey man, how have you been?”
“Good, good. It’s been a while.” Trevor cleared his throat. “Look, this is going to sound insane, but…any chance I can borrow your sister?”
Piper Bradley straightened and rubbed her knotted neck muscles. She scanned over her latest creation, a ballet gown with a double reinforced bodice for those wonderfully talented dancers who had been heavily blessed in that department.
How many dancers, as they developed, had been body-shamed? Dance instructors, fellow dancers, and society, all hitting them with little digs, disparaging looks, and scathing judgments, each barb eroding away at their confidence until they gave up their passion.
Well, not anymore.
Traditionally, dancers were not to have large breasts or wide hips, but through her designs, she was changing that.
No dancer had to go through what she had.
She blinked and focused on the dress once again, her eyes roaming, not missing a single feature. She’d created the waist just an inch above the belly button. It was high enough to conceal evidence of a non-traditional ballerina body, but not high enough to be considered an empire waist, which would have dance critics crying foul when it came to this particular style.
As mesmerizing as it was, something was missing, but no matter how hard she examined it, she couldn’t figure out what.
“Hasn’t come to you yet?” her best friend, and business partner, Rafe, said as he sidled up next to her offering a hot, sinfully-rich cup of much-needed espresso.
“No, and I’m ready to tear my hair out.” She took a sip, savoring the sting of the hot liquid, and sighed. “It’s gorgeous, right? I mean the barely-blush ombre color is perfect, just perfect.” She rubbed the mostly nylon fabric between her fingers and blew out a breath.
“We have time, Piper. Plenty of it. You should take a break,” he said, his words patient and encouraging, immediately soothing the frustration building up inside of her. “Go see your family for a few days. Clear your head. I bet when you come back and take a look, it will jump out at you.”
She hadn’t seen her parents or her brother in a good six months. She wasn't sure she would classify a visit as clearing her head. More like she’d spend the time with giving some good-natured ribbing directed at her brother over his latest conquests.
He’d take it all in stride, for a few minutes. Then, he’d get that gleam in his eye and turn the tables. “Still spending all your free time in those gay bars with Rafe? You sure you don’t have something to tell Mom and Dad?”
And of course, that would get her mother going. Not that her parents had anything against that kind of thing, quite the opposite. And her brother knew it. His comment would launch their mother into after-school-special mode and she’d sit her down to tell her that they love her no matter what, and if she has anything to tell them, she should feel comfortable.
Knowing her mother, she’d launch into statistics, too.
If she was really unlucky, her mother would find a way to lure Piper into a gay bar, a place she usually loved, but with her mother?
She shivered.
Piper took Rafe’s hand and kissed his cheek. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that. I should let you know, Marla called again. Actually, she called the office, and then she managed to hunt down our production company and hounded them, too. I don’t know how much long you’ll manage to hold her off.”
“Maybe it’s time to expand and bring on new designers.” Piper bit her lip. The thought of opening up her business to others set her stomach pitching as though she were back on Kingda Ka at Great Adventure and not in a good way.
She loved designing and if she had other designers working under her, that creative time would evaporate with the added responsibility of supervising others. Plus, her fashion line name, Exclusively Piper, really wouldn’t be exclusively Piper anymore, would it?
Sure, others may never know that she hadn’t agonized over every sketch, every fabric option, every stitch, she’d know. She’d know and she’d feel like a fraud.
“I don’t know about that. These women are frothing at the mouth for you. They want your designs, your quality, they want the consideration you show every dance body, not just the traditional ones. I don’t know if there is another you. Not that I’ve seen anyway.”