The "Stylist" | Book I in a Series of Mistaken Identities

DEBORAH

Valerie

There were times I'd imagine what Charlie would look like out of his suit, and now I can say, with all certainty that what I saw in the shower was far better than anything my mind's eye envisioned.

He was bigger than I thought he would be, in every way. It's a bit strange thinking of him as masculine, especially when he wears pink suits and jewelry. His muscular body is impressive, and strong without being overly butch. His tattoos are what surprised me the most; his chest and upper arms are completely covered in what looked like Japanese art. I can't be too sure exactly what it was, I was a little distracted by the not-so-tiny dick in his hand. I'm going to have a hard day ahead. Huh, hard.

I did a little digging earlier about the couple that was getting married. I didn't know them personally, but after a quick search online I found the groom was an accountant for some pretty large firms. I'm just hoping no one I know is invited. I should have thought this through a little harder, but I find Charlie to be somewhat irresistible and the idea of getting to know him better was too good to turn down.

Who knows when I'll have the time to date once I start working for Dad again and with all my cards on the table Charlie might turn his back on me.

I watch Charlie shift gears with this massive hand on the gear lever. I did bring a little something sexy for this evening if everything went well today. I'm a little more prepared now that I've had a preview.

The ceremony was charming, a simple affair on the beach. When everyone was seated, I made sure to look around to see if there was anyone I knew, and sure enough, I could spot a handful of people I'd rather not bump into.

As I finished my scan my eyes landed on a rather beautiful redhead whose eyes were locked on me. They dart quickly to my hand which Charlie holds in his, and her eyes dart back at mine. I know this look. It's the territorial, judgmental, ex-girlfriend look that shoots missiles instead of daggers.

This woman must not know who she's dealing with. I'm all for games, but not this kind. Growing up my guilty pleasure was shows like Jerry Springer and it always baffled me how two women could fight over a man who cheated on them both. Cut the scumbag loose and go your own way ladies. The strange woman who fucked your man didn't owe you her loyalty, it was the asshole who said he loved you and stuck a knife in your back when you weren't looking, that's who you're supposed to be mad at.

"That's my ex, Deborah," Charlie whispers in my ear.

"She's very pretty," I have to admit it, she's beautiful.

"Maybe on the outside," I hear Charlie snigger before putting his arm around me and leaning back in his seat. His arm stayed there throughout the entire ceremony with his thumb caressing my skin under the thin strap of my dress.

When it was time for the vows Charlie's other hand found mine and I caught him watching me. His face was soft like he was having a lovely daydream he didn't want to wake from. Of course, I could feel my cheeks get hot. I've never blushed so much in my entire life.

The reception was further up on the beach at one of the restaurants. There was an area on the sand set up for mingling and dancing. There were white flowers everywhere and twinkling lights kept the party lit into the night.

Charlie was a very attentive date, never leaving my side and introducing me to some of the other guests. He was a natural socialite when he turned on the charm. A couple of people I recognized seemed confused when he introduced me as Valerie, but I just smiled and nodded, and they went along with it when I mentioned Valerie was my middle name.

We didn't stay at our table very long. Charlie wanted to dance and then he took me outside to a little table where the two of us could be alone.

"Another whiskey sour?" He asked noticing my tumbler was empty.