The Careless Boyfriend

by Erika Kelly

  “And Duck Dive?”

  “Gray’s got a really creative business mind. His brain’s always working, always thinking of the next idea, and he likes what I bring to the table. As soon as I convinced him to expand into women’s swimwear, it opened the door to cover-ups and tunics. He lets me run with it, and I love that.”

  “And here I’ve been worried about trusting a surfer with my career.”

  “Gray’s not a surfer. He’s an elite athlete, who runs a successful business. And he’s focused on getting your career back.”

  “I hope I can.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “It’s an extremely competitive world. The best path was through my old boss.” Who had yet to return her calls. She needed to talk to him, tell him her new path. “He had access to the kinds of unique fabrics and material I can’t get on my own. I’ll get there…it’s just going to be harder, that’s all.”

  “Don’t sell Gray short.” Zach’s smile was filled with awe for his boss.

  “I know his intentions are good, and I’ve already benefitted from his good ideas, but he does have a short attention span.” She said it with a laugh.

  But he didn’t smile. “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s training for the Olympics, but he gets the call for Titans, and off he goes? There isn’t much he takes seriously.”

  “You sure about that? Not sure you can surf sixty-foot waves and heli ski if you don’t take it seriously. I know he comes off all easy-going, but I’ve seen him in action.” He tipped his head with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, I don’t know why he downplays his achievements.”

  Had he always been like that? Knox stopped for a moment, considering. For years, both Gray and Robert had been rabidly competitive with each other. Literally, everything was a challenge. They’d hike up to Dead Man’s summit and, about a mile before the top, they’d both take off, race-walking. A drive to Bozeman would turn into a drag race, with Knox bracing against the dashboard and shouting at Robert to cut it out.

  It only struck her now that Gray’s competitiveness had ended with Robert’s addiction. Except…now that she thought about it, maybe he hadn’t lost it at all. Maybe he’d only acted like he didn’t care. Isn’t that what they’d had to do for Robert? They’d been so careful not to set him off.

  Had Gray started downplaying his wins? Had he stopped acting like he cared because he didn’t want Robert to feel bad? It certainly made sense.

  Of course, it hadn’t worked. Gray figured out long before she had that you couldn’t control someone else’s behavior. She’d spent half her life fighting that losing battle. But had it become a habit for Gray, downplaying his achievements? Because Zach was right. Gray wouldn’t be a champion if he didn’t take his training seriously. “You know what? You’re absolutely—”

  Before she finished her sentence, the door opened, and cool, fresh air swept in. Two gorgeous women—one, Callie Bell, a tall, elegant brunette, the other a sexy, gorgeous blonde who must be Delilah—sashayed into the bunkhouse. Callie put a hand over her heart and said, “Oh, my God. Look at those dresses.” Her gaze skimmed along the line of frothy gowns. “Is this for real?” She glanced up with a grin. “Can I have all of them?”

  “You bet.” Knox knew she sounded a little stiff, but her heart was racing. She’d gone to school with Callie, which meant the woman knew everything about her past. The other one, Delilah, was she local, too? Knox hadn’t thought to ask Gray about her, so she tried to process her features, her attributes, anything that might trigger a recollection. The bullies had made a permanent imprint, so she’d recognize them a hundred years from now. She’d rather sell cars for a living than design dresses for anyone who’d ever barked at her. But, no, nothing about Delilah rang any bells. “You can have anything you want.”

  “Careful what you offer me. I can’t even set a date for my wedding, let alone choose a dress.”

  “Zach,” Knox said. “Do you know Callie and Delilah?”

  “No, we haven’t met.” He shook both their hands. “It’s nice to meet you both. How about I let you ladies alone to talk gowns, while I finish unpacking them?”

  “Thanks, Zach,” Knox said.

  Turning back to the forms, Callie moaned. “How am I supposed to choose? These are the most gorgeous wedding dresses I’ve ever seen.”

  “And trust me when I say she’s been looking,” Delilah said. “She’s got wedding magazines all over her house, her car, the museum.” With a bright smile, she reached a hand out. “I’m Delilah Lua, and you must be the magic maker.”

  Knox clasped her hand. “That’s the title on my business card.”

  “We are so excited that you’ll be making our dresses,” Delilah said. “Just to be clear, I’ve recently opened a restaurant here, and I’m in way over my head, so I’m in no rush to get this done. Also, I’m not going to be that crazy bride who takes up every second of your time making changes every time she sees something she likes better.” She gave an exaggerated tip of her head toward her friend.

  Callie’s eyes went wide. “Are you seriously making fun of me right now? Look at these.”

  Delilah burst out laughing.

  My God, she’s dazzling. Knox was positive she’d remember her. “You’re not from here, are you?”

  “Oh, no,” Delilah said. “I just moved here this summer. I’m from New York.”

  Thank God. “That’s where I went to college.”

  “FIT?” Delilah asked.

  “Yep.”

  “How many pounds did you gain eating Mort’s French fries?”

  Knox found herself relaxing. “Ten in my freshman year. And I don’t regret a single one.”

  “I went to school there, too.” Callie shook her head. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. I’m Callie Bell, Fin’s fiancée. Do you remember me?”

  “Of course. It’s good to see you again.” Please don’t bring up the past.

  “Delilah’s marrying Will.”

  “What voodoo did you practice on him?” From the look on the chef’s face, Knox instantly regretted making the joke.

  “Why does everybody say that?” Delilah looked genuinely confused. “Will’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know.”

  “That’s because you cracked it open.” Callie came closer to Knox. “I remember you, you know.”

  Her smile faltered. Don’t let her go there. “Well, who wouldn’t? I had quite the reputation.” Dread got a good, solid grip on her as she waited to hear Callie explain about Knox Holliday, the junk yard dog. Awesome.

  Callie nudged her friend with an elbow. “She was a year ahead of me, and she had more style in her pinky than everyone in the whole town combined—and that includes the rich people. I swear, everyone in our school wore Uggs, jeans, and hoodies. But Knox?” Callie took in Knox’s slim-cut black velvet pants, the leather, studded ankle boots, and the boat-neck blouse she’d made herself. “She rocked scarves and leather jackets, ripped tights and baby doll dresses.”

  “My mom was a child of the eighties,” Knox said. “I borrowed a lot of her stuff.”

  “I remember making this list,” Callie said. “Pretty much writing down everything I saw you wear that I thought was cool. And I spent the entire winter break trying things on and playing with different looks. And then, the morning before we went back to school, my room was this explosion of clothing and accessories, and I wound up going to school in Uggs, jeans, and a hoodie, because I just couldn’t make anything work.”

  “You have gorgeous style now.” Knox thought Callie looked as sleek and elegant as Audrey Hepburn.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t have the confidence back then,” Callie said. “You had it in spades.”

  “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.” Though it wasn’t confidence so much as defiance. She wouldn’t let the assholes win.

  “I can’t believe Gray destroyed your dresses.” Callie cringed, as though witnessing the accident right then.

  “It
wasn’t Gray behind the wheel, but he’s the one going above and beyond to make it right.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” Delilah asked. “Are you fixing them for a show?”

  “We’re…assessing.” She didn’t have the money to fix them, but she wouldn’t bring that up.

  “We are definitely doing something with them,” Zach called from the long kitchen table, where he was laying out dresses since they’d run out of dress forms. “They’re amazing.”

  “We’re hopeful.” Change the subject so you don’t break down in front of them. “But I’m excited to make your wedding gowns. Since neither of you has a date set, we can take our time. I’ll go over styles and fabrics with you, make some sketches, and we’ll start from there. Sound good?”

  “Sounds fantastic,” Callie said. “I have to say, now that you’re here and this is happening, I’m really excited.”

  “I’m glad. This’ll be fun.” She gave them a smile, but inside she was a little panicky. She had no idea where she’d buy the material for two dresses. The high-end vendors she worked with had a minimum amount of fabric they’d sell. Maybe since they knew her, they’d give her a break. Hopefully. She had good relationships with everyone.

  Her phone vibrated on the table. “Excuse me.” Reaching for it, she turned away from them to face the French doors. Luc. Finally. Last time they’d talked, he’d completely freaked out before abruptly hanging up on her, and she hadn’t heard from him since. “Hey.” A million thoughts ran through her head.

  Are you still mad at me?

  I hope you know it wasn’t my fault.

  I’m freaking out, and I just want you to fix everything and get my life back on track.

  “It has taken me several days.” He spoke in a measured tone. “But I am finally coming to terms with the loss of our collection.”

  Her heart squeezed painfully. Gray had mobilized so quickly to get her back in action, and she truly appreciated his help, but he didn’t get it. Only Luc would. It was such a relief to confide in him. “I know.” She stepped away from the others. “I’m devastated but trying to hold it together. I was so close, you know? So close to starting the career I’ve always dreamed of. And to have it ripped from me…God. I just…” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. “I just can’t stand it. I lie awake at night, and it’s like I’m plugged in. Like there’s an electrical current running through me. I just can’t believe it. I want to wake up from this nightmare.”

  “Mon petit chou, it is a nightmare. I had the Lincoln Center. I had Marie-Thérèse, who wears your gowns like she was born in them. But I have salvaged everything by giving your show to Antonia. She is as close to your talent as I’ve got. Close, but simply not the same.”

  Antonia? A sting of jealousy shot through her. That woman was so full of herself. A true mean girl. “Well, good for her.”

  “Yes, she is floating on air. Now, for you, ma chère, my favorite designer, all is not lost. I have a plan.”

  “A plan?” Would he back her for April’s Bridal Fashion Week? She didn’t know if she could have twenty-five dresses in that time—some had to be redone completely.

  “You will come back to Paris and work for me again. While you’re designing fabulous collections for me, you can create your own line.” He paused. “Which we will debut at next October’s show.”

  Going back with Luc meant couture, for sure. Her pulse pounded, she wanted it so badly. So what if he stole her designs again? No, you know what? You go in there knowing he’ll steal something. Keep a notebook just for him and leave it out as bait. And then she could just keep her own private sketchbook hidden somewhere.

  Oh, my God. What are you even talking about?

  Do you hear yourself? Planting a sketchbook?

  If she took his deal, even if she designed the most gorgeous dresses in the world for him, nothing would stop him from claiming her private sketches as his own. You know he’d do it. And then another year would go by, and she still might not have her own line.

  She wanted her own haute couture atelier with all her heart…but at what cost? Her pride, her sense of self, they were worth more to her than that. Oh, dammit, dammit, dammit. She could not believe she was going to do this. “Thank you, Luc. You’ve believed in me since my senior project fashion show. You’ve given me a wonderful opportunity in this business, and I will always be grateful for your support.” There’s never just one path. And she liked the one she and Gray were building together.

  “But?”

  “But I’m going to stay here.”

  “In the States? Surely, you don’t mean that cowboy town you’re from?”

  “I’m going to—” She closed her eyes, envisioning his expression as she told him. “I’m going to make luxury knock-offs of the dresses and sell them in a pop-up bridal boutique.” What? She almost laughed out loud. That idea was either genius or utter stupidity.

  Actually, though, it was pretty brilliant. That, plus the custom gowns could very well get Jack Abrams’s attention. She just needed the right marketing approach.

  He wasn’t responding. Each moment of silence yanked the strings of tension in her body. “Luc?”

  “Why limit yourself to a boutique? Why not sell them on eBay, too?” The venom in his voice was reserved for people who’d crossed him, people he hated.

  “It’s not like that.” She’d find a high-end boutique in New York or Los Angeles. Chicago.

  “No. You don’t have my permission to sell my dresses.”

  “They’re not your dresses, Luc.” She said it softly but firmly. “You don’t own this collection.”

  “We are partners.”

  No, they weren’t. “Luc, you supported me in fashion week in exchange for my designs. That’s the extent of our agreement.”

  “I put up the money for the material. Textiles that came from my looms.”

  “And I designed collections for you. I met the terms of our contract.”

  “Money is not the point. I only backed you because we are building your reputation. It must be done the right way.”

  “It will be done the right way.” She glanced over at Callie and Delilah and found them listening avidly. Zach, too. “I’m also creating couture gowns for high profile brides.”

  “From Calamity?” he asked.

  “Yes, from Calamity.” For now, anyhow.

  “Wonderful. So will you incorporate lassos in the design? Instead of Swarovski crystals, you will have turquoise? Will the brides wear cowboy boots?”

  “Thirty percent of the homeowners here are millionaires, and if they choose to wear cowboy boots under their gowns that’s their prerogative. All I know is I’ll be designing luxury wedding gowns.” Think marketing. She needed to exploit the meme. “And I’ll be recording the entire process on social media.” What’s this now? Oh, she’d hit on her plan. “Last summer a text message someone sent went viral, turning this man I know into a meme. Well, that guy happens to live here, and he’s getting married. So, I’ll be making the wedding dress for The World’s Worst Boyfriend’s bride.” She thought of all those pages she followed with stylized images. “I’ll be setting up a page called The Making of a Couture Wedding Gown and filling it with photographs of every step of the process.” Now, this would work. She’d get tons of custom orders from it.

  “What is the matter with you?” Luc sounded horrified. “Stop this. Stop it right now. You are destroying your career.”

  “Christian Navarre built his whole business from an online presence.”

  “You are not Christian Navarre. You are Knox Holliday, and you are the most talented, gifted designer I know. Your gowns are ‘extravagantly feminine, wildly unique, and lushly romantic.’”

  Bridal Salon magazine had attended her senior year fashion show and given her that astonishing review. Knox had framed it and hung it on her wall to see every time she felt down or frustrated. Luc hired her not only because she’d won first place but because of that review. “I can’t
wait another year to start my career.” And I’m not going to work for you.

  “So that’s what this is. You’re trying to blackmail me into giving you your show?”

  “What? Blackmail how? I don’t have a collection to show.” Why was he attacking her instead of trying to help her? God, he was making this all about him. “You know me better than that.”

  “I know that I am very upset right now. Listen to me, Knox, along with being creatively brilliant, you are headstrong, impatient, and stubborn. You want everything right now, but in our business it doesn’t work like that. You must carefully construct your career. If you want to be a fashion house that endures, if you want to be Balenciaga, McQueen, or Bellerose, then you need to stay the course. Trust me on this. Come back to me, create another collection, and we’ll show it next October. You will take the bridal world by storm, I guarantee it.”

  “You know I want that, but I’m going to get there another way.” She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “I think this is a good plan, Luc.” It was scary, risky, but she really did believe in it.

  “Don’t do this, Knox. This is a mistake. You are capable of Dior, and you’re settling for Walmart.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t know much about her past. He certainly didn’t know that people had called her the junkyard dog and barked at her, so he didn’t know the direct hit to her deepest wound. She loved Walmart—that was where she bought her food and soap and cleaning supplies—but she didn’t want to launch her career at the lowest price point. She wanted couture.

  “Come back to me,” he said. “I will get you where you need to be.”

  “I’m sorry, Luc. I’m going to swerve, because it’s the only way I know to get what I want and keep you in my life.” God, she hoped she was making the right choice. Because she was headstrong, impatient, and stubborn.

  “All right. Your dreams were crushed just two days ago. You think about this, and when you change your mind, come back to me.”