Tess burst out laughing. Cole was grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re no help. At all,” I concluded, but I was grinning just as widely as Cole. And when my phone lit up again with a message from Rob, I knew I was a lost cause.
Rob: Going for a run at the same time tonight. Want to come with me?
Chapter Ten
Skye
“I do feel like this is bringing out my boobs better,” I told Tess. After lunch, we were both having one of our “research and development hours.” Jane was dealing with customers, and we were in our dark room in the back. “I’ll wear it for the rest of the day, check how comfortable it is.”
“It is sexy as hell,” Tess said, surveying me. We’d finished sewing this one yesterday. We had a small sewing machine and a ton of fabrics in the back, and twice a week, we blocked four hours in the afternoon for experimenting. Sometimes we stayed in the store so we could actually have some natural light, but if it was too full, we made do in the small room.
“I know, right?” It made my already huge boobs appear even larger. I’d been s
o ashamed by them when I was a teenager, so conscious of the looks they attracted. But now I was proud of them and of my body. It wasn’t perfect, but I loved my curves. “We just need to make the straps a little wider—or use another fabric. It’s cutting into my skin.”
“I’m on it,” Tess exclaimed. Rummaging through the box where we kept leftover textiles, she picked two pieces of black stretchy fabric, carefully wrapping them around each strap. Instead of making them bulky, it added a layer of sexiness.
“Wow, now it’s even more sophisticated than before. I’ll just sew them real quick so they don’t fall off,” I said.
“I’ll do that,” Tess said. I took off the bra, and she quickly made the changes at the sewing machine. Then I put it back on, and we both admired the result in the mirror.
“That’s better,” I said.
“Let me just sew a bit of lace to the upper part of the cup. I think it’ll look great—balance out the sturdier straps. Don’t need the sewing machine for this. Just stand still.”
I eyed the needle she picked. “Don’t poke me.”
“When have I ever poked you? Wait... don’t answer that.”
“Uh-huh.” It had taken her a few months to get the hang of sewing a garment on me without making me feel like a pincushion.
“You’re not exactly still. What’s the matter? Thoughts of a sexy neighbor making you jittery?”
“Or the fear that my skin will get the pointy end of the needle.”
Tess stepped back, pointing a finger and the needle at me. “Don’t feed me tales.”
I grinned apologetically. “A mix of both?”
Tess kept staring.
“Fine, I was thinking about Rob.”
She smiled triumphantly, resuming the sewing. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You didn’t give me any details about that dinner and kiss. Time you rectify that, don’t you think?”
She kept glancing up at me, and I knew the second she split her focus between sewing and fishing for spicy details, my skin was in danger.
“Fine, I’ll spill the beans. But give that needle here. I’ll do it myself and keep my boobs safe from you.”
Goodness, my stomach did two flips just because I was remembering that evening. My palms turned sweaty at the realization that I was heading home in a few hours.
“Perfect. So I just get to stand here, not work, and listen to you? That is what I call a relaxing afternoon.”
***
I’d been home for two minutes when there was a knock at my door. I checked my watch, grinning. Yup, Rob’s running time.