Chapter Text
Light streamed through cracks in the blinds, strong afternoon sunlight highlighting tousled brown hair where it peeked from underneath disheveled sheets. The lump beneath the covers shifted with a soft noise, and a hand reached out to grope along the bed's surface, seeking. Eira struggled out of the sheets into a sitting position and hunched over her phone. Practiced fingers tapped out her passcode and she flicked through her notifications with a yawn. Her cat interrupted her scrolling by jumping on to the bed and headbutting her hand holding the phone, nearly knocking it out of her fingers.
"Hey baby boy, is it time for your lunch?" she cooed, giving the orange tabby a gentle scratch on his cheek. She eased out of the bed and slipped her phone into the pocket of her pajama pants.
On her way out of the bedroom she stopped to tidy up clothing left strewn on the floor from her early morning return, while her cat protested this delay loudly. "I know, I know," she soothed, stepping carefully while he tried to herd her towards the kitchen of her apartment.
She hummed quietly to herself as she fed her cat his wet food and started hot water for tea in an electric kettle, the tune a counterpoint to the muffled sounds of Val Royeaux traffic beyond the walls. Leaning back against the counter, she withdrew her phone and resumed her tapping and scrolling. With the ease of long routine, she prepared her tea and carried it to her couch, eyes barely leaving the screen. Her hum turned to one of contentment as she took her first sip.
Fortified with caffeine, she opened the Blooming Rose app and checked for any employee notices since last night, then swiped to new client postings. The usual headlines filled her screen, mostly one time escort requests with varying physical preferences and interests in activities. She almost scrolled past a new post before her eyebrows rose a fraction; a week-long assignment as a platonic escort only. Opening it up, she quickly skimmed for pertinent details. The client needed a date for a formal function that would last a week. Travel required, must stay at the location for the entire week. All expenses covered. Must sign a non-disclosure agreement — that was odd. She stopped at the bottom, and her brows nearly climbed to her hairline. The compensation was far more than she usually made, even allowing for the increased time spent.
With that kind of money, she could finally invest in her side business, build it up and pull away from using the Rose as her primary source of income. She was able to cover her modest bills and carefully save a little money every month, but this would be a huge boost. To distance herself from the possible dangers of her profession... She wouldn't be young forever, and couldn't stay in this business for too long.
This had to be too good to be true.
Her cat joined her on the couch, pressing up alongside her thigh as she checked the user who submitted the posting. As usual for the Rose, it had little identifying information, and had only been created a week before. The name was suitably generic. She absently stroked her cat's soft fur, setting her phone down on the couch while she sipped her tea thoughtfully. Someone would take this assignment quickly. But what were the risks, beyond the usual? It was flagged as a non-sexual escort, so she would likely just be a decorative arm piece. She would have to get details about the formal dress requirements and find someone to pet-sit for her for a week. The rest was trivial.
She set the mug back on the coffee table with a decisive clunk and tapped accept on the app. Her thumbs quickly swiped over the screen as she fired off an introductory message to the client.
Mercy: Hi there! I'd love to chat about the details of our assignment together. Looking forward to meeting you!
A thrum of excitement ran up her spine, and she curled down to lavish affection on her cat. "Sol, I'm going to have to leave you for a week," she said between kisses to his adorable head. "It will be worth it, I promise!"
The next notification from the Blooming Rose app didn't pop up on her phone until the evening, the suggestive rose icon bearing a tiny badge with one new message indicator. Eira set aside her work, scooping up her phone with enthusiasm.
CSR: Hello. I apologize for being abrupt, but you must sign the non-disclosure agreement before we discuss details. Can I ask to meet first?
Her lips curled down in a soft frown, then eased as she shrugged to herself.
Mercy: Sure thing! When is the event?
She waited, but no typing indicator appeared. Must not be tied to their phone, then. Picking up her notebook, she resumed taking notes. She hadn't taken an assignment tonight and was enjoying the time spent low key working at home. Chill beats flowed from tiny speakers, filling her small apartment with ambient music. Solium napped on the other end of the couch, and a habitual mug of tea sat cooling on the table. She lost track of time until a soft buzz pulled her out of her focus.
CSR: Next month, it starts four weeks from Friday. Are you free tomorrow night?
Mercy: For you, of course I'm free! Dinner?
The delay was long enough that she almost set her phone down again, then the message box showed typing.
CSR: Estrellón at 8 pm? Ask for CSR.
Mercy: I'll see you then!
Usually, she'd have peppered in more flirting, but she was mindful of the nature of the request. Maybe they weren't comfortable; it wouldn't be good to come on too strong and scare the client off.
She drummed her nails against the back of the phone case. The restaurant the client had chosen was Antivan, unpretentiously upscale yet cozy. Grateful that she didn't have to push back and insist on meeting in a public space for the first time, she stretched and considered. One reason she worked through the Blooming Rose was the ability for her to back out of an assignment if she became uncomfortable and also report the client if anything untoward happened. She hadn't missed how the enigmatic client had given no more specifics about themselves.
What to wear...
Eira stepped out of her ride share with a warm thank you to the driver, smoothing a hand down her skirt covered hip as she paused on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. Perfectly on time, her heels clicked across the entry. She surreptitiously scanned the restaurant as the host checked the ledger, noting the exit to the kitchen and then looking for any visible solo diners. There had been no clue as to the gender of her client — not that she particularly cared.
A server led her to a private table where a man quickly stood up when it became clear they were headed straight for him. A tall man, with carefully styled blond hair, his hands twitching ever so slightly at his sides as if he couldn't decide what to do.
Covering for his confusion, she extended a fair hand and gave him a winning smile. "CSR, I take it?"
Relieved, he took her hand in a firm grip. "Yes, I'm Cullen Rutherford," he said, then hesitated.
"Eira Trevelyan. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rutherford."
"Please, call me Cullen," he said as he helped her into her chair. A gentleman, she thought with a little surprise. He took his seat, and the server left them with the menus.
She trailed her fingers along the edges of the menu, noting details about him through her lashes. He wore a dark suit, cut to fit broad shoulders. Pale skin with pink undertones made the darker stubble on his jaw stand out. He was handsome, but radiated nerves.
"I really am sorry," he started as he unfolded a few sheets of paper out of his inner suit pocket, "but to tell you anything, you must sign the agreement first. If you change your mind and drop the contract, I must know that the... situation won't get leaked."
Their eyes met and held, clear grey to golden brown. She stretched her hand out for the papers. "May I have a moment to read them over?"
"Of course," he said and passed them to her, along with a pen.
It looked very standard, cut and dry. They would take legal action against her if she spilled any confidential information, including the fact she was hired and by whom. There was no mention of a company or other organization, just the client as the other party. She signed her name in looping script on the last page and presented it to him with another smile.
The tension visibly drained from those broad shoulders and the wrinkle between his dark eyebrows vanished. "Thank you."
Much better. She sipped her water and her eyes fell to the menu as he tucked the document away again. "The paella here is supposed to be amazing, do you mind sharing?"
"Not at all. I defer to your judgement."
Smiling softly to herself, they also decided on an Antivan red wine to go with their meal, ordering from the waiter when he appeared.
"Excuse me for a minute," she said when he'd left, and made her way to the bathroom. She pulled her phone from her clutch and typed out a quick text.
Eira: Safe at the restaurant, had to sign the NDA first so I can't tell you any details. Seems nice so far. Quite handsome!
She smoothed where her navy blue blouse tucked into her grey skirt and checked her lipstick in the mirror, picking up again when her phone buzzed.
Dorian: Good! Text me again when you get home.
Dorian: It's very boring in the lab tonight. I'd rather be out spying on your client.
With a playful eye roll she shot him a kissy face emoji and stashed her phone away, then made her way back to the table. Cullen looked up from his own phone, quickly pocketing it.
"Your accent, you're from Ferelden?" she asked.
His lips twitched up. "Yes. You're not from Orlais either, by the sound of it."
The motion pulled on a thin, jagged scar that cut through one side of his upper lip. It made his smile take on a rakish quality, and her brain tripped a little before catching up with his question. "Ostwick, originally. I haven't been back in quite some time."
"I was in Kirkwall for a while, myself. I haven't been back to Ferelden in over ten years."
Her eyebrows rose in interest. "What took you there?"
There was a hesitation, and a faint shadow crossed his face. "I was transferred to Kirkwall from my previous post. I came to Orlais because they recruited me to the Inquisition."
"Ah." Divine Justinia V had formed the Inquisition within the last year, before her death, to settle unrest across Thedas. "Does this event have anything to do with work?"
He nodded, leaning forward with a serious expression. "Have you seen the news about the peace talks between Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard?" At her confirming nod, he continued. "The Inquisition is part of it, and I'm required to be there, as the commander of forces." Those warm brown eyes watched for her reaction.
She blinked at him. "And you need an escort for..." she trailed off, her voice lilting on a question at the end.
"I need a deterrent from the court," he fairly growled. "They're oddly persistent in harassing me about my lineage, and..." Cullen made a quiet noise of frustration. "I would like you to pretend to be... involved with me."
Their meal arrived at that moment, saving her from answering right away. She was grateful for the time given to piece her thoughts together. Once they were alone again, she tapped a nail on the cloth-covered table. "You need a fake girlfriend to keep opportunistic nobles off your back."
"And my colleagues, if possible. This sounds so ridiculous out loud."
She swallowed some wine and a laugh while her thoughts continued to swirl. The Commander of the Inquisition wanted her to come along to a diplomatic function and pretend to be his girlfriend.
Oh, if only she could tell Dorian.
"If you want it to be convincing for your colleagues as well, we're going to have to start before the peace talks."
He almost choked on his own wine. "Maker's breath. I hadn't thought of that."
Smiling into her glass, she regarded him more thoroughly. "It's my job to be a little forward, so I must say I have a hard time believing you're not already taken."
He flushed under her regard. "I don't have the time. Besides, I haven't been interested in anyone in a very long time." His blush deepened, and he added, "I want to stress that I don't... expect anything of you besides pretending in public. You have my word."
His voice was so serious, his expression earnest. She smiled at him, filing a mental note about his sense of honor.
They shifted their attention to the food, and their conversation paused. It did sound a little ridiculous, but interesting. And entirely harmless. And well paid. Besides, he seemed like a decent man who needed a little help. If she backed out, she might be throwing him to the wolves. Decision made, she raised her glass again and tipped it towards him. "Challenge accepted, Cullen Rutherford."
He smiled at her, wide and genuine, and clinked their glasses together gently. "Thank you, Eira Trevelyan."
"Eira," she corrected.
"Eira," he repeated dutifully, his lovely tenor stressing the roll on the r in a way that was entirely unfair.
Her pulse stuttered, and she busied herself with their meal, smoothly changing the topic to harmless details about their pasts. The longer they talked, the more relaxed he became. She found herself enjoying his company, settling easily into the role she was to play for the next month.
Finally, they stood outside the restaurant, and she pivoted to look at him. "Am I allowed to visit you at work, or is it strictly Inquisition only?"
His brows raised in mild alarm. "Why?"
"If you want to establish this beforehand, you need to be seen with me now. You should take me to lunch someday soon." She held out her hand, palm up. "May I have your phone for a moment?"
His brows were going to escape off his forehead at this rate. "Why?" he repeated.
"We're going to take a selfie and set it as your phone background. You should probably have pictures of me, just in case. I'll put my number in your contacts and send some later."
He was still hesitating, and she gentled. "Cullen, I want to help you. You seem like a kind man who just wants a break. I promise I won't betray your trust."
After a beat, he slowly drew his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, then placed it in her palm. She flashed him a brilliant smile, navigating to his contacts and added her number, then texted herself. Opening his camera app, she carefully stepped closer to him and handed it back, directing him to raise his arm while she pulled a few locks of hair out of her chignon to frame her face, giving her a more flirty appearance. Their height difference meant she was about eye level with his shoulder, and she tilted her head in to look closer to him without completely getting in his space. This close, she noticed he had the faintest whiff of something woodsy on his skin.
He still looked perturbed. "Think of your ridiculous king and his rumored love of cheese."
She tapped the shutter button when he chuffed out a laugh, then swiped to check the shot. "It'll do," she murmured critically, going through his settings to set it as his phone background. "There."
Cullen stared down at the screen, looking a little lost and overwhelmed, and slowly pocketed it. "Thank you, again. You seem to be handling this better than I am."
"This will be over before you know it," she reassured him, then pulled out her own phone to order a ride.
"Where are you parked? I can walk you to your car."
"Oh, thank you, but I don't have one. I'm getting a ride now."
A pause, then, "Would it be too forward to offer to drive you?"
She looked up from her phone, searching his expression. His eyebrows were tilted in soft concern, and a pang of surprise shot through her sternum.
At her silence, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You're clearly perfectly capable of handling yourself, I just—"
The smile she gave him stopped his rambling, and she closed the app without finalizing her order. "Lead on, then. My cat is eagerly awaiting his dinner."
She gave him the address of an apartment building one block over from hers, and he stayed at the curb until she was in the lobby. Thankfully, she'd used this building before for cover and knew their front doors were open. She waved from inside, and he finally pulled away.
Not long after, she settled on her couch with a fed and content cat on her lap.
Eira: I'm home! Maker, I wish I could tell you about this job. You would die.
Dorian: You're very evil to be taunting me like this.
Eira: You can take care of Sol while I'm gone?
Dorian: I am going to spoil him rotten and he's going to want to go home with me.
Eira: Rude!
She opened her camera roll and scrolled through her album of selfies, looking for ones to send to Cullen, appropriate for the relationship they were fabricating. A small voice in the back of her head wondered how soon she could send him racier photos, and how adorably he would blush in response.
Bzz.
Cullen: I almost forgot, you'll need dresses for dinner and something for the planned celebration ball at the end of the talks, if this all goes off without a hitch. I can compensate you.
Eira stared blearily at her screen, the text having woken her early in the morning. She dropped the phone onto her chest and laughed. "Oh, Cullen, you really know how to treat a girl."
She spent the next couple of weeks frantically expanding her wardrobe and getting rush alterations, all while wondering if Cullen would balk every time they sent him a bill. She took other assignments in the meantime and carefully planned the items she'd need to pack. Her new dresses would be couriered to the Winter Palace and ready in their suite. There was one small hitch: Cullen hadn't yet invited her to lunch and introduced her to his colleagues.
Eira: I'm not here to nag, but you still owe me a lunch date.
As usual during the day, he took a long time to respond.
Cullen: I'm sorry.
Cullen: Are you free the day after tomorrow?
Eira: Yes! Can you clear me at Skyhold so I can meet you in the lobby?
Another wait. When the text came, she could almost feel his reluctance radiating off her screen. From his brief, almost terse replies, she hazarded a guess that he was swamped with work.
Cullen: Yes.
Cullen: Noon?
Eira: I'll be there!
She'd already scheduled an assignment for the night before, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd performed on less than an ideal amount of sleep.
Her client from the previous night had wanted to go to a club. Looking up at the Skyhold complex from the street with a dull throb in her head, she willed the painkillers in her system to hang on. The automatic doors whispered open in front of her, and soon she was waiting in the tasteful, spacious lobby. The receptionist at the large central desk had had no problem checking her credentials and notifying Cullen for her.
He was late, but she had surmised that he was a busy man, and wasn't terribly surprised by the delay. Allowing herself to zone out a little, she idly watched those rushing through the lobby.
"You never take lunch breaks," a feminine, teasing voice emanated from the opening elevator doors. "It's my job to know things."
Cullen's impatient voice replied as he stepped out. "Knowing things and being nosy are not the same."
Eira bit the inside of her lip to stifle a laugh, gracefully rising from her seat and subtly straightening her sheath dress. He turned and caught sight of her, striding towards her while a lithe woman followed him.
"Hi, Cullen," she called, raising slightly on her toes to place a peck on his cheek. He stiffened. "Put your hand on the small of my back," she murmured to him quickly.
She'd told him to, but the touch of his big hand gently pressing low on her back shot a thrill through her, goosebumps trailing down her arms under the sleeves of her cardigan. She turned to the woman, whose blue eyes were watching her carefully.
"Eira, this is Leliana, our head of security," Cullen introduced her.
A pale hand extended out to shake. "So you're the mysterious woman on his phone."
She laughed brightly, returning the testing squeeze. "I'm afraid I wanted to steal him away for a little break."
"I'm glad someone can make him take a break." Leliana gave a half smile on pretty pink lips and glanced between the two of them. "How did you two meet?"
They exchanged a look, Cullen hesitating a second too long. They'd discussed backstories and come up with a vague idea, but hadn't finalized it yet.
"Cullen was looking for a present for his sisters, and he stopped at the stall I share." She waved a hand as if looking for words. "At the farmer's market in Belle Marché on Saturdays. He bought some lovely perfume oils."
"She was quite helpful and charming," he cut in smoothly. "So we exchanged numbers, and, ah..."
"Here we are," she finished, smiling up at him. His hand was still on her back, careful and light.
"How lovely. I won't keep you. I'll see you for the two o'clock meeting, Cullen?" He nodded, and Leliana gave them an enigmatic smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Eira."
"Likewise, Leliana."
His fingers pressed in ever so slightly and she turned as he directed, and they calmly walked outside. Cullen let out a breath once the doors closed again.
"I'm sorry. If you couldn't tell, I'm a private person and would prefer our lives remain that way," he said ruefully. "But I brought this on myself, and you. Not that I regret meeting you, o-or spending time with you," he added quickly. His hand dropped away, and she was surprised that she missed it.
"It's fine. Where are we going for lunch?"
He paused in the act of rubbing the back of his neck, something she noticed as an endearing habit. "I, uh, thought we could go to the cafe across the street."
"Sure." They waited at the crosswalk, and she thought of two things.
Eira: I won't be at the market two weeks from Saturday, I'll be out of town.
Sera: boo!!
She slid her phone back into her bag. "Do they know I'm coming with you to the peace talks?"
"They will, at that meeting this afternoon."
Eira chuckled. "Good luck."
The time passed swiftly after that. Cullen was busy with final preparations and his text replies had gone even more sporadic. She didn't mind, truly, as it gave her more time to research suppliers for her perfumes. They had agreed on a partial payment up front for her time spent preparing, and she was eager to get the ball rolling on upgrades to the quality of her ingredients, packaging, everything. She would have to plan for scaling up production. With more product on hand than what she kept for the market and her online store, she might be able to get into local boutiques. With so many things to occupy her mind, the remaining week flashed by.
Eira: Do you have time for dinner this week?
Another date would help them settle and get to know each other better than the brief texting they'd been engaged in. She'd sent him a few selfies of random moments in her week, but nothing too flirty. Besides, talking to him in person was much more satisfying — she could listen to that intelligent voice for hours.
Late morning sunlight glinted off the jars of honey lined in rows on the table before her, turning the sweetness inside into liquid gold. It was a beautiful day for the farmer's market, and even Sera was in a cheery mood, less prone to verbal barbs than usual.
Eira nudged one of the tins of solid perfume on her end of the table, lining it up with the rest. They'd done decent business today. Her partnership with Sera worked out well; if someone stopped for one product, they could usually be enticed to peruse the other. Her thoughts drifted, wondering if she could commission Sera's girlfriend Dagna to build her some clever display racks.
Someone approached them, and she quickly switched on a bright customer service smile before looking up.
"Actually, I was hoping you'd be free for lunch."
Cullen was standing in front of her end of the table, a shy smile on his face.
"Hi!" Her smile morphed to a genuine one, pleased that he listened and thought to come see her. "The market closes in an hour—" she looked to Sera, whose hazel eyes were darting between the two of them.
A sly grin stretched the elf's lips. "Go on, then. I'll even pack up your shite for you."
"You're the best. Oh, Sera, this is Cullen. Cullen, Sera."
"Pleased to meet you," he said politely, his eyes dropping to the table. "Um, could I get these?" He picked out five wildflower honey sticks from a jar.
"That's 10 silvers, Cully-Wully."
Eira was fascinated to watch the tips of his ears turn pink as he dropped the coins into Sera's open palm.
She gathered her bag and gave her friend's shoulder a squeeze. "I owe you one!"
Sera waved a hand to shoo them away, and the two made their way into the light crowd of the market. Eira drifted close to Cullen's side. He was wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and she admired the hint of strength on display. "Did you have anything in mind for lunch?"
"I hoped I could get your opinion on vendors here. We could grab something and go sit in the park?"
"That sounds great! There's a few food carts over there..."
Meals acquired, they walked to one of Val Royeaux's many parks that was adjacent to the market, and found an unoccupied bench without much trouble. It was downright picturesque; a shaded bench amidst the green lawn, the sky bright blue with fluffy white clouds passing through, a faint song on the breeze that was a trademark of the city. A kind, handsome man who had surprised her with a lunch date sitting next to her.
"Sera's also from Ferelden?"
She flashed him a smile. "Her accent's rather obvious. She was in Denerim for a long time." She tilted her head to the side. "Your family is in South Reach, right?"
"Yes. We're originally from Honnleath."
He talked about his siblings, and a small lake just outside the village where he would go for some peace and quiet. As before, she mentioned her own siblings, but skirted around the circumstances of her leaving home. He'd not asked about her main line of work. She wasn't quite sure if he was being polite or a prude. He also avoided talking about his military service and changed the topic.
"So, why perfumes?" he asked.
"I've always had a nose for scents. Smell is a powerful memory trigger. It can be really..." she waved a hand as she thought of the term to use, her tone lilting on the next word, "gratifying — to hit on something evocative."
He made a thoughtful noise in response.
"What do you like to do for fun? You can't be working all the time."
"I like to read. History, mostly, or non-fiction about wars and military events. I used to play chess with my sister Mia, but it's difficult to find someone to play with. Besides Leliana."
She smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I can't help you there."
"I won't hold it against you, you have other fine qualities." His brain seemed to catch up with his mouth a second later, and he fumbled with his now empty takeout container. "I'll, ah, find a garbage can for these."
She handed hers over and held in a laugh — she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him. He was just adorable when he was flustered.
"Would you like to walk?" he asked when he returned.
They strolled through the park, a gentle breeze stirring her sundress around her knees. She could almost forget that this was pretend.
Except he had made no affectionate gestures and hadn't touched her at all. His hands remained in the pockets of his crisp trousers the entire time, except when eating. His body language would give away the lie immediately, but she didn't know how to fix it without being blunt with him.
Her recent experience with romantic relationships was somewhat sparse. The nature of her work meant it was difficult to find someone who was accepting and honest, and she deeply valued truth in a relationship. After a couple of fraught attempts, she had stopped looking. She refused to be shamed. And she certainly didn't need rescuing.
But sometimes, she craved the casual intimacy of a relationship that went beyond friendship. Sex was fun, but she didn't fool herself with any deeper connection to her clients. Surely he wouldn't want that with her.
"Eira?"
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she startled.
"I'm so sorry—"
"I was just wondering if you needed help to get your things home?"
"Oh. No, but thank you. Sera will get it and just bring it back to next week's market while I'm gone." She fiddled with the end of the braid that lay over one shoulder. "Do you need to leave?"
"Unfortunately, yes. There's still a lot of work ahead before the talks."
Disappointment curled low in her stomach. "Thanks for lunch," she smiled through it, "and for taking the time."
The scarred side of his lips twisted up in a smile of his own. "Thank you for indulging me. I, ah—" he cleared his throat and his gaze shifted away from hers. "I'll see you later."
She waved as he headed out of the park, then sighed to herself. A lot of work ahead, indeed.
"You realize the timing of your little getaway is highly suspicious, my dear."
Eira glanced up as Dorian wiggled his phone screen in her direction. She caught a glimpse of a headline about the upcoming peace talks, and her heart jumped in her throat.
"You know you can't get secrets out of me that easily."
"Unfortunately true." He returned to perusing the article, his grey-green eyes flicking over the text. "Interesting bit about the Inquisition being there."
She hummed noncommittally as she poked at the last of her takeout.
"Interesting organization in general, the Inquisition. Charming collection of the oddest people, somehow working together."
"Can't say I've paid too much attention to who works there."
"I consulted for them on a Tevinter issue — don't look at me like that, I couldn't talk about it either. It was like a setup for a particularly bad joke. A Dalish, a Tevinter, and the Left and Right Hands of the Divine walk into a bar." He sighed and set his phone down, nudging her to scoot over on the couch.
She wiped her fingers on a napkin and discarded the container on her coffee table as Dorian arranged a pillow on her lap. "Headache?"
"Just a little, and I do so like being pampered by your lovely self. Indulge me?"
"Always." Eira's lighter fingers settled on his deeply tanned skin, smoothing his fashionably styled hair away from his temples. "It must be such a burden to cram all that knowledge in that pretty head of yours."
"I know. Somehow, I bear it." He let out a contented sigh as she gently worked at the muscles in his forehead.
"Something bothering you at work?"
"A knot to untangle later. Distract me with describing your dresses, since I can't pass final judgement on them myself."
She let out a soft laugh and slid her fingers into his dark hair.