Tailored for Love Read online

  "Sure, just call me whenever you want to come by," she said before following Corrie to the dressing rooms.

  "Come with me, I'm sure Carrie has everything under control in the store."

  "Carrie? I thought her name was Corrie," I said.

  "Carrie is my other assistant. They're twins. Because you know, my life isn't complicated enough without having to figure out whether I'm seeing double or just looking at them."

  He laughed as I followed him to a quiet corner of the store, blocked from direct view by Asian inspired silk screens depicting a serene water garden. His work area consisted of a long work table, a sewing machine, a high end HP tablet/laptop combo that sat on a small desk, a dress form for fittings, and a corner filled with yards upon yards of fabric.

  "Wow, this is exactly the kind of place I want to have one day," I said as I looked at his sketches that were pinned on the wall.

  "I'm sure you will one day. From what I've seen, you are very talented."

  "Thanks, but--"

  "But nothing. Own that. You are talented, young lady, don't ever forget that. If you have a dream, you have to go for it. Remember, no one is going to just give you what you want, you have to make your dreams happen."

  I nodded as his words sunk into me. "You're right. That's why I pushed myself to finish school and graduate. I could've stopped so many times and just given up."

  "Listen, Deborah. I never do this, but I loved what I saw and we do share an alma mater. There's a lot I can teach you about running your own brand. I'd like to offer you a job here as my assistant."

  "Assistant? Like Corrie and Carrie? Thanks, but I really don't think so."

  "No, no, no. Trust me, I know what you're thinking. Those two are assistants in that they help me take care of customers. I'm offering you the chance to design with me."

  "Wow, Joshua. I didn't expect this. But I really don't know, I need to think about it, and I want to weigh all my options now that I've graduated. I'm not saying I wouldn't want to work with you. The experience would be amazing. I just don't want to jump into anything and right now my head is spinning. I need time to think."

  "Of course. I don't want you to rush into it, either. Listen, speaking of options, I have a friend who works over in HR at Hargrove's."

  "The high-end department store? I really don't want to work retail. I don't see how that'll help me become a designer."

  "Hear me out. In Canyon Cove, there aren't many options and this is a good one. Hargrove's has an employee only fashion design contest every year. The winner gets to feature their collection in the store. If Hargrove's feels the collection is strong enough, they'll even send the designer to Fashion Week."

  "For real? How did I not know about this?"

  "It's one of their best kept secrets. I wish they had something like this when I graduated," he said as he smiled at me. "You take your time and think about my offer. If you break my heart I'll understand, but at least consider Hargrove's. I'll put in a good word and make sure you're not just stocking shelves all day. Think about it and give me a call, okay? Here's LuAnne's number if you decide to go that route," he said as he wrote down a phone number on a small piece of paper.

  "Thanks, Joshua. You'll hear from me one way or the other. Thank you for everything."

  "Anytime. Us designers have to stick together, you know. I'm more than happy to help."

  * * *

  Finally getting home, I felt the day catch up with me as I collapsed onto the old brown and tan polyester couch that doubled as my bed. I dropped my stack of mail onto the kitchen table without looking at it. I didn't have to sort through them to know they were bills. If it had my name on it, they were looking for money.

  As I kicked off my shoes, one of the envelopes caught my eye. It was a little longer than my credit card bills and looked thin. I picked it up and held it up to the light, afraid to open it.

  "Please don't be what I think this is," I said, annoyed as I examined the envelope. "Are you kidding me? I just came from graduation!" I said.

  Opening it, I felt my stomach sink and slowly turn. It was exactly what I feared--my student loans were already asking for payment.

  Quietly slipping out of my closet, my orange and white cat hopped onto an arm of the couch and started purring. I rescued Mousetrap from a shelter after his owner kicked him out, annoyed that he betrayed his name and what she considered his sole purpose in life. Trap was not only the laziest cat I have ever met, but I was sure he'd run in the other direction if he ever saw a mouse. In other words, Trap and I had a lot in common.

  "Shit Trap, talk about bad timing" I said loudly as I fell back onto the couch, wishing I hadn't gotten up to check that letter. "I thought I had a few months before they wanted anything. Maybe I should call Drake Winslow and see if Ashley's job is still open. I could use that kind of money. Maybe I shouldn't have turned it down."

  Trap meowed his reply. His "talking" was the reason I took him home. I never planned on adopting a pet, but next thing I knew Trap was talking to me from a cage as I walked past a pet adoption fair. Figuring it was never too early to fulfill my destiny as the crazy cat lady, I adopted him. Besides, I spent way too much time talking to myself. Trap made me seem a little less wacky.

  "No? No regrets? When you're right, you're right, Trap," I said as I scratched his neck.

  Looking around my small studio apartment, I knew I couldn't scale down any further. Any smaller and I would be living in a closet or a nice refrigerator box. Mentally going through my poor excuse of a budget, I knew it was only a matter of time before I wouldn't be able to pay rent. I needed a job now, but I really wanted to pursue my dream. If I didn't do that now, I didn't know when I'd have the chance to. There would never be a perfect time.

  As I thought about my talk with Joshua, I considered taking him up on his offer of working at Joyeux. I knew he'd let me help design, but it would be under his name, not mine. And since we both designed for plus size as well as smaller sizes, I knew it would be hard for me to really stand out. Joshua was such a talented designer, my work couldn't compare to his.

  I pulled out the piece of paper he gave me and turned it over between my fingers. Hargrove's was the high end department store, actually it was considered a fine department store. That's how fancy it was. But I really didn't want a retail job. They were a lot of work for not much pay. I wanted to design, to create fashion. Not sell what was already on a hanger.

  Joshua was right though, Hargrove's could be an amazing opportunity because of their Annual Designer Challenge. The chance that I could win that or even get a foot in with a buyer was tempting enough for me to ignore what working retail meant. I dialed the number Joshua gave me and crossed my fingers as I listened to the phone ring.

  "Thank you for calling Hargrove's," the automated voice on the other end of the call answered. "You've reached the Human Resources department. Your call will be answered shortly."

  "Human Resources, this is Joan."

  "Hi, this is Deborah Hansen, I'm looking for LuAnne?"

  "What is this regarding?"

  "Joshua Cane suggested I give her a call."

  "Oh Joshua!" she said, her voice suddenly friendly. "Yes, right away. One moment please."

  "This is LuAnne," she said with a twangy accent I couldn't place. "You're friends with Josh? How is he? I need to call him."

  "He's good. He said I should give you a call."

  "Great, what can I help you with?"

  "Well, I just graduated with a degree in Fashion Design from Canyon Cove University and I was wondering if you have any openings?"

  "Everyone at Hargrove's starts on the selling floor. Are you alright with that?"

  "Can I still participate in the Designer Challenge?"

  "Of course you can, that's open for everyone, but the deadline is approaching," she said. "Listen, since I'm in a good mood and you're friends with Josh, I know of an opening as a tailor in the men's department. It's a busy department and while it might not be high
on your list, at least it's more than just working the floor. Why don't you come in and I can tell you more about it. Is 10am good?"

  "Sounds great. I'll be there," I said before hanging up and bouncing happily in my seat. "There you go, Trap! Things are turning around. Maybe now I won't have to worry about you attacking me in my sleep out of starvation."

  Chapter Three

  Deborah

  After walking down the inconspicuous path near the parking garage entrance for Hargrove's, I entered my code into the keypad and entered the building. My first couple of days were mostly orientation and paperwork, but after that I was finally allowed on the floor.

  While my title was 'tailor', I knew I wasn't much more than a glorified salesperson. The job definitely had its faults but I kept reassuring myself that it wasn't a step back, that with the right connections I could get a buyer interested in looking at my designs.

  Plus there was the Annual Designer Challenge. Hargrove's was famous for its window displays along the avenue. At Christmas, people would crowd around the windows for a glimpse. The contest gave the winning designer a collection display in the window, put the designs up for sale in all of their stores, plus the chance that Hargrove's would sponsor the collection at Paris Fashion Week. It was an exciting opportunity and the only reason I took the job.

  Walking down the long hall, I looked over my outfit as I did every morning I came to work at Hargrove's since I started a week ago. Knowing how much I'd be on my feet, I wore a pair of black palazzo pants and an ivory organza blouse with ruffled sleeves and a deep v-neck. Both pieces were made by me. I tried to wear as much of my own designs as possible since I had such a hard time finding clothes that fit me properly, not just because of my shape, but because of my height.

  As I walked on the store's white marble floors towards the men's department, I could already see that last night's sales team had left a mess. Dianna, the manager who trained me, was already on the floor and putting the clothing back on hangers or getting them ready for folding. Usually everyone towered over me, but she was just as short and very petite. She reminded me of a china doll with her perfect auburn waves hanging down her back. That is, she did until she turned around.

  Dianna Brubaker's facial features were reminiscent of a bird. Her thin, pointed nose hooked down at the end, pointing to an equally pointy chin. Her sharp features were unfortunately accentuated by her fragile frame, which she covered up with long flowing skirts and buttoned up tops. All of it combined made her look much older than her thirty years of age.

  The poor girl looked like she could get blown away at any second, and she regularly complained about it. Dianna ate constantly, always hiding food in the drawers around the register. It was another one of her tirades--no matter how much she ate, she couldn't gain any weight. I hated her for it. Not that I wanted to be that thin, but I wouldn't mind not having to consider the size of my ass when I was squeezing into a restaurant booth.

  "If you ever leave the department looking like this, I swear I'll kick your ass," she said as I approached.

  "Hey, I know better. Plus I'd still get stuck having to clean it up," I said as I started folding a rumpled pile of expensive polo shirts.

  "Listen, I know you just started, but I need you to take care of men's alterations by yourself today. I have a new girl starting who will focus on this mess and if I don't put the fear of God into her, we'll have another Sara, who's too busy flirting to keep the place neat. Think you can handle it?"

  "Of course! Alterations is why I took this position. You know I love to sew."

  "Good, if you have any problems, just page me. It's usually a little slow during the day, but you never know."

  I navigated my way through the clothing racks to the wide fitting room area. Hargrove's wasn't an ordinary department store. What really set them apart was the superior customer experience. For example, anyone could buy an item at Hargrove's and have it expertly tailored free of charge. Of course, a lot of the clothing we sold was out of my wallet's reach, but still, it was a nice thought.

  The men's fitting area was warm with rich forest green carpeting and dark wood furniture. Towards the rear was a three-sided mirror where most fittings were done. On the right were oversized dressing rooms. I checked the rack customers used to hang the clothing they didn't want and found what I expected--it was full.

  I hadn't had the pleasure of working with Sara yet, and I didn't want it. Not only had Dianna warned me enough about her, but every time I worked after her, the department looked like a tornado had gone through it.

  The mess didn't bother me that much though. It gave me something to do and as long as I was busy, the day zipped by. Nothing slows a day down more than standing around waiting for customers.

  Grabbing as many dress pants on hangers as I could carry, I walked over to the suit area and began fitting them back on the rack by their size. Looking through the new suit styles that came in the other day was a tall, handsome man with dark brown hair slightly parted on the side and pushed back from his forehead. He was clean-shaven and wore a black suit with a grey shirt and no tie. I couldn't take my eyes off him.

  Realizing the number of pants in my arms was dwindling, I slowed down my clean up effort. I didn't want to stop staring at him. His broad shoulders tugged his suit jacket perfectly across his back and each time he pulled another suit out of the rack, I noticed the wrinkle on his sleeve where his muscles flexed.

  I didn't know what came over me. I had seen handsome, sexy men before, but this one put them all to shame. I tried focusing back on putting the clothes away but then, almost as if he could feel my eyes burning a hole in him, he turned to look at me and smiled.

  While I thought he was gorgeous from behind, now getting a full look at his face, I didn't have words to describe him. Beautiful? No, he wasn't a pretty boy, he was rugged and manly with a strong jawline I wanted to lick. I couldn't help but gawk, and I hoped I wasn't drooling like I imagined. He was beyond good looking, he was magnetic. My head kept coming back to calling him Sexy, Mr. Sexy.

  Suddenly I imagined Mr. Sexy running on a beach in nothing but black board shorts, the white pull string at his waist tempting me as water droplets slowly dripped down his sun-kissed skin and disappearing into the fabric. Whoa, get a hold of yourself, Deborah! I mentally told myself.

  Smiling back, I realized Mr. Sexy was still looking at me. His friendly smile changed to something different, a small, gently lopsided knowing smile, the right corner of his mouth just a little bit higher than the left. I wondered what he knew about me. Was he reading my mind? No, that was just stupid.

  As he walked over to me, my breath caught. My first instinct was to run so I wouldn't embarrass myself, but then I heard my grandma's advice in my head--no regrets. I stood firmly in my spot, still holding the hangers and gazing into his approaching face as I tried to keep my eyes from traveling down the rest of Mr. Sexy's body.

  He had gentle smile lines on his cheeks and at the corners of his eyes. And those eyes! Now that he was closer, I could see they were hazel with glittering green flecks. They were the warmest and most inviting eyes I had ever seen. I knew if he asked me anything at that moment, anything at all, the answer would be yes.

  "Excuse me," he said as his eyes quickly found my name tag. "Deborah."

  "Yes..." I responded, using the only word I was able to say and playing over his deeply intoxicating voice in my head.

  "I believe you dropped something."

  "Yes..." I said as his words slowly registered in my brain.

  Looking down, I saw all the hangers I was holding were empty. All of the dress pants slid off and were in a pile on the floor at my feet. I had been so consumed with this man that I didn't even realize what happened.

  "Shit! I mean..." I said as I knelt down to pick them up, "Darn? Damn? Crap, how embarrassing."

  "Shit is just fine. I've heard worse," he said and laughed as he walked away.

  Great, what a day. I see the most gorgeous guy
in the world and then promptly make an ass of myself. What's next?

  Picking up the dress pants and the hangers, I figured it would be easier to re-hang them in Alterations where I had a large table and could work more comfortably. I looked around for Mr. Sexy as I carried the pants back but no luck, he was gone.

  Dropping the pants on the counter, I heard someone in the fitting rooms. Please let that be Mr. Sexy! I came around from the counter and almost slammed into Dianna as she stepped out.

  "Oh, it's you," I said, disappointed.

  "Good to see you too," she snarked. "Expecting someone else?"

  "I was hoping you were this guy I just saw."

  "Oh great, I didn't think you'd be another Sara."

  "No, it's not like that. This guy...I don't know, there was just something about him."

  "Where was he?"

  "In suits. Checking out the ones that just came in."

  "Then give up on him now, he's gay," she deadpanned. "No one ever looks at the new arrivals, and most guys don't care."

  "Definitely not gay," I mumbled as I shook my head.

  "Well, lots of guys come in and out of here. Obviously, it's the men's department. Maybe he'll be back."

  "I hope so."

  Chapter Four

  Will

  The bright store lights of Hargrove's seemed more annoying than usual. I didn't even know why I was there other than needing a change of scenery. The store, with all its people, was the safest place to go. Still, all those people annoyed me and made me wish I had stayed home.

  That was until I saw her. With a frustrated look on her face, she straightened up the men's fitting room. As she gathered a stack of dress pants to hang, I moved further into the suit department, not ready to let her out of my sight.