She smiles shyly at me. “No. Of course not.”
“Then grab a bite with me. Save me from my impending loser-dom.”
She squirms in the chair. “Lukas, I’d love to save you from your loser-dom, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I flash her my best chick-melting smile. What the hell am I doing? Am I really trying to hook up with a chick a decade older than me? Yes. I am. “It’s just a sandwich. No strings, I promise.”
She sighs and laughs, and I love how pretty her lips look when she smiles. Like a little doll. “Okay. I am hungry, actually.”
“Cool. Let’s try to put in a little more design time, and then we’ll go, okay?”
She nods. “That’s perfect.”
I have a strict no-dating-the-customers-rule that I imposed on myself when my brother and I opened the shop four years ago. And even though this technically isn’t a real date, I’m growing more and more attracted to Ivy, and I really have no idea why. I work on all kinds of attractive women every day but remain detached from them, even though a lot of them literally throw themselves at me and offer me everything from blowjobs to threesomes. There’s just this thing about her. Maybe it’s her shyness. Or the ache I feel in her. Or maybe it’s the crazy tingling feeling I get every time I touch her or look into her eyes. Either way, I just know I want to spend more time with her without jabbing needles in her.
“How long have you worked here?” she asks me.
“My brother and I opened this place four years ago after we inherited some money from our grandfather.”
Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you owned it.”
I smile as I add delicate shading to the tender spot just above her knee. “Yup. I own the building, too, and I live upstairs.”
“Wow, I had no idea. I’m very jealous of your commute,” she teases. “What was here before you moved in? I love the uniqueness of the building. I know it was a church or chapel at one time, right?”
“It was quite a while ago. Before we moved in, an older couple lived here that sold antiques. They were cool enough to let us keep some of their antique furniture and artwork, too. The furniture in the waiting area is all antiques, and a bunch of the furniture in my apartment is, too. I love vintage decor, especially anything Victorian Gothic.” I pause working on her design. “I’m fascinated with the history that’s attached to certain objects. I feel like antiques have a story to tell, and that they carry with them a little piece of each person who owned it. Like an imprint, I guess. Sometimes, I like to run my hand over the old wood and just try to feel the past seep into me.”
She listens with a fascinated expression as I talk. “Lukas . . . that’s so beautiful. I’m impressed. Most men have zero interest in things like that, especially someone your age.”
I look up from her leg to meet her eyes. “I’ve never acted my age, Ivy.”
“Can I ask how old you are?”
“Twenty four.”
Her eyes widen. “No fair. I’d love to be twenty four again.”