Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

22. Cheeky

22

Cheeky

After most shifts, all I wanted to do was go home and put my feet up. But something about Zack’s offer had me spiraling with anxious energy. I mis-aligned the zipper on my jacket three times by the employee lockers.

Making videos with Zack was one thing. I could crop out his face or delete and archive as we went. Loose scenarios could be planned based on trends. I could even block Shelby from seeing anything so only anonymous people bought into our story. Playing happy family at dinner? That meant no editing. No filters. I doubted his parents would love my cool-girl-chic motif since my target audience was teens to thirty-somethings. Would he back out if they hated me?

With a big sigh, I dropped the ends of my jacket. I needed some retail therapy.

I walked my ass all the way out of the building so security could check my bag, then re-entered the mall as a guest. The shop displays mocked my very existence.

Valentine’s bullshit.

Heart-shaped decals. Chocolate boxes. Diamond rings. Smiling, cuddly couples and laughing women.

The Intimate Closette had blown-up pictures of anonymous half-naked models in soft lighting with fancy script that asked, "Can you keep a secret?"

Yeah. A lot of people had them. Especially if they had six-packs and private DM's.

I dragged my thumb over the edge of my phone in my jacket pocket. I’d hate to run into Mr. Zeezy while passing Armando and Ritch. Maybe Theo quit. After all, Bigfoot could probably bankroll him.

I checked social media for an update. He’d posted a few songs he was listening to in his stories. They were mostly breakup ballads about giving your best to someone who didn’t appreciate it. Jerk. He didn’t give me respect, which was kind of a basic requirement in relationships. The lack of self-awareness only cemented my decision in not taking him back. Two years from now, he still wouldn’t be ready for marriage. He was too immature. Too selfish.

That was the kind of guy I currently attracted. I had to fix that. For my brand and my heart. I deserved a real shot at love, whether it was from an audience, a casting call, or a partner. Even if that meant taking up with a fake one for a bit.

I texted Zack.

Me: I’m in

Me: PS: would you be able to escort me past my ex’s store during your lunch, dear boyfriend? ;)

Part of me wanted to send a kissy face emoji, but I wasn’t sure we were there yet.

While waiting for a response, I wandered the ‘Closette’ aisles, which were basically branching bits of memory lane. Theo had never held back his opinion on which outfits would suit me best. It helped me navigate what someone like him or even a client would want in me, I guessed. But he wasn’t my audience for my big brand revamp. What did the everyday eighteen to thirty-six year-old want?

I eyed the G-strings tangled in sales bins and the cotton with lace trim panties spread out on tables. Not a bad selection. The heart-patterned balconette bra and undies set would be a bestseller for the holiday. But what face and body sold them? A mannequin gave me nothing, but online, the model had a sly smile and a perky butt. It had to be photoshopped. Whose ass had perfect heart-shaped proportions like that? Part of me wanted to grab a screenshot and send it to a friend for a laugh, but I didn’t want them to think I was body shaming anyone.

In some ways, I kinda missed talking to my ex every day: being catty about bad customers, showing each other fashions, and hyping up social media trends to maximize our confidence. That’d been fun. Now, I had…

My phone rang. Zack.

I swiped to answer. “Hi. You do realize that most people from our generation prefer to text?”

“This is faster. What’s up?”

I picked up a thong. “Nothing much. I’m just playing with some underwear, waiting for my escort.”

“What?” he asked sharply, a thud sounding in the background. Did he run into a doorway?

“I’m at The Intimate Closette,” I said, stifling a laugh.

He grunted. “Can we meet literally anywhere else?”

So much for non-toxic masculinity. The guy couldn’t handle the presence of ladies’ underwear? “There’s a health store across from it,” I said.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up without further fanfare.

How had that same blunt guy made friends with the whole warehouse? He barely knew how to have a normal conversation.

I could only imagine the awkwardness if I showed up to our meeting with a bag from The Closette. He’d probably turn bright red and tug his earlobes, looking anywhere but my face so he didn’t visualize me in whatever I’d gotten. Not that he pictured me like that. He was too classy for fantasies. At least the saucy ones. My New Year’s Eve romper had probably only caught his attention because it was shiny. Plus, I’d been shivering and throwing lemons while wearing it.

I sighed and abandoned the land of silk and lace for the shop peddling protein shakes across the way.

The location was good marketing for both stores. People looking at the intimate ads would be motivated to look better naked. They’d want sexy underwear and ‘health’ supplements.

I eyed the plain white banner in front of some vitamins as a familiar strong gait clomped toward me.

Meet your New Year’s resolution goals with Nutrivixxx!

I chuckled and shook my head. The three x’s made it seem like they were trying to sell something sexy. I checked the nutritional label on the back. “Five thousand percent of your daily intake of iron. Is this what you need to feed your beefcake physique?”

“Beefcake?” Zack leaned over, his chest warm against my back. “That much iron could be lethal for kids.”

I side-eyed his medical knowledge. “Are you a kid?”

“No.”

“Do you have any?” For his precious fam.

He reeled back. “No. I babysit.”

“Don’t let them take the vitamins from your purse, then.” I set the supplement on the shelf. The sound of his laughter sent a tingle across my skin, so I flipped my hair to redistribute the energy. “Who do you babysit?”

“Cousins.” He propped his arm up on a shelf, eyeing an energy drink. “They're terrors if they've had too much sugar."

I wrinkled my nose at him. Terrors? Why did anyone ask him to babysit when they had a literal party princess in the family?

He sniffed his pits, then drew his elbows into his sides. “What?”

“It’s hard to imagine you around little kids.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

Did he not see it? “You’re a big, gruff…”

“Beefcake?” He grinned.

“Oh, shut up.” I pushed his hard, immovable chest. “You’re not that impressive.”

“Well, if you’re having such a hard time picturing it, you should come to dinner and witness it for yourself.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “You could meet the whole fam.”

“After a week of dating? That’s way too fast.” I needed more time to put myself together for them.

He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. The crinkle of rough paper nearly stopped my heart.

I raised my hand to him and whispered, “Tell me you did not bring your tuna sandwiches in here.”

He glanced down. “What? It’s lunch. I need the protein.”

I pressed my fingers to my lips and tried not to laugh.

This big, ridiculous guy was going to be a gold mine of content. I couldn’t wait to get started.