The Secret Lives of Dresses by Erin McKean

Author:Erin McKean [McKean, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780446555722
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2011-02-10T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Dora had first realized that she had a crush on Gary the third day they worked together. She wasn’t sure what had triggered it: A bad joke? His puppy-dog look? Or was her resistance to flirting so low that one of his single entendres burst through her meager defenses? One minute he was her goofy boss, and the next minute he was her goofy boss and a crush of heroic proportions.

After that, Dora’s summer fell into a kind of swoon. She’d get up every day, fortify herself with some Grape-Nuts, and think about Gary. What he would say. What she would say about what he said. Whether he’d wear that one particular pair of jeans that made something—she deliberately was not going to call it desire—rise in her chest. Then she’d head to the coffee shop, where she’d spend all day, every day, with him. It was like there was no one else in the world. Her friends were all elsewhere. Dora tried to convince herself that it was just a job, Gary just a co-worker, that she didn’t think about him all the time, didn’t replay their conversations over and over in her head, didn’t wonder what, if anything, he thought about her.

Sometimes after a long day at work, Gary would hug her goodbye. Was that significant? Or, if Dora had the momentary upper hand in their banter, he’d squirt her with the sink sprayer. What did that mean, if anything? And what about the one time Dora had caught him peering down the V-neck of her T-shirt as she stooped to move a box of napkins in the storeroom? She had pretended she hadn’t noticed, but had she really seen him blush? Everything was part of the absorbing puzzle that was Gary, but none of it added up to the actual relationship she craved.

Today they were painting. Dora had almost finished the first coat on her wall. She stepped back.

“Nice job, Rembrandt.” Gary grinned. “Hold still—you’ve got a bit of paint on your cheek.” He wiped it off with the wet rag he held. His hand was gentle. Dora held very still.

Gary grinned. “Hard to get that paint off, if you let it dry. I bet I’ll have to take a scrub brush into the shower before my date tonight.”

Dora dropped her roller in the tray. “You have a date?”

“Try not to sound so surprised, please. It wreaks havoc on my fragile male ego. Yeah, I met this woman in the library, she’s amazing, she plays the cello and is studying the role of music in French novels of the nineteenth century. Really interesting stuff. And she’s a grad student! There are so few of us at Lymond, it really narrows the dating options. I may have to turn to the law school soon.” He gave a mock shudder.

“I suppose undergrads just don’t meet your impossibly high standards?”

“Undergrads are off limits, one hundred percent. Best possible way to get yourself in a heap of flaming trouble: date an undergrad.

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