What the hell is wrong with me this morning?
The rate my day was going, I was going to shave off someone’s eyebrow and turn their hair green.
“On?”
“How many times this admitted shady cop has pulled women over to ask them out on dates.”
He flashed a smile and my heart stuttered. “Never.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that, but I wanted to. “If I agree, will you let me go to work?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, then.”
He smiled again and straightened, putting on his hat. “Watch your speed,” he said, tapping the side of my door with his fingers.
“Don’t you want my number?”
He leaned down once more. “Already got it. What do you think I was writing down?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s abuse of your job.”
He chuckled. “You gonna call my boss and rat me out?”
Hell no, I wasn’t. “Maybe.”
“I don’t think so,” he said softly.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because, Julie,” he drawled, and I swear my name on his lips made me lightheaded. “You want to go out with me.”
I did. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. He was already suffering from an oversized ego. “You going tell me your name?”
“Blue,” he said, stepping back from my car.
I’d never heard that name before. But considering the pull of his eyes, I understood it.
“Well, Blue, I guess I’ll see ya when I see ya.”
“Oh, you’ll see me. Tonight. I’ll pick you up at six.”
Tonight? He worked fast. Maybe he should get a speeding ticket.
I waited until he was in his cruiser before I pulled out onto the road. He pulled out behind me and followed my car the entire way to the salon. When I pulled in the lot, he kept going and I blew out a nervous breath.
I needed to revise my earlier statement. It was no longer the morning from hell.
For once, I was actually glad I got my ass of bed.
1
Julie
Several months later…
The guy that never called? I was staring at him. How unfortunate for him I was holding scissors.
I thought for sure the minute he laid eyes on me and my potential weapon, he would turn tail and run. He wasn’t very smart, which he proved when he never called (clearly, his loss) and then again when instead of walking away, he came closer.
He smiled as if flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth would make me swoon.
My days of swooning over him were over.
Candy, the flighty receptionist, wasn’t immune to his oozing good looks, casual charm, and smooth-talking self. She all but drooled when she waved her hand in my direction.
I narrowed my eyes when he lazily strolled over to me, his hips rotating as he kicked out his jean-clad thighs and his worn T-shirt brushed against the low-riding waistband. He didn’t say anything as he lowered himself in the black swivel chair in front of me.
“What do you want?” I snapped when he only stared at me with his deep blue eyes through the mirror.
He looked pointedly at the scissors in my hand. “A haircut,” he said like it was obvious, flashing that grin again. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”
I thought about stabbing him. Like seriously stabbing him.
I snapped the gum I wasn’t supposed to be chewing and smiled. I had to behave; management was watching. I couldn’t afford to be seen disrespecting a law enforcement officer.
“Where’s your uniform?” I asked, arching a perfectly waxed brow at him.
He gave me a sly smile. “Left it at home. Didn’t want to give any of the ladies here heart failure today.”
Then he winked.
Dammit. It was sexy.
I rolled my eyes, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was indeed a hot bad boy who was actually good. I turned my back and reached toward the hook and pulled off a fuscia cape to drape around his neck.
“Pink?” he said, lifting a brow.
“I spilled something all over my black one. Oops! If you want to go somewhere else, I totally understand.”
He smirked. “Nope. I’m already here.”
I fastened the Velcro a little tighter around his neck than need be. He lifted a brow again, and I shrugged. “Wouldn’t want you to get all hairy.” I batted my lashes.
He snorted.
I expelled a quiet breath and silently told myself to get it together. He was a client. He needed a haircut. It would be over in ten minutes and then he’d leave.
I didn’t want to touch him.
I had to.
Instead of getting right to work, I forced my eyes up and looked at his reflection in the large mirror hanging over my workstation. His brown hair had grown longer since our one and only date. It was shaggy and hung over his ears and forehead. The back brushed against the cape.
The last I saw him, it was shorter. Cut around his ears, short on the sides, and a little length on the top, which he mostly wore messy (no doubt because he didn’t bother combing it).
I rested my palms on the back of the chair. “So what’s up with your hair?”
“I haven’t had the chance to get it cut in a while,” he said, keeping those deep azure eyes trained on me through the mirror. “Do you remember how it looked before?”
“No.” I lied. Gheesh, he had a big ego.
He pursed his lips and studied me. I’m sure he knew I was lying. I wondered if he would call me out. “Guess I’m not that memorable,” was his reply.
I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. The gum in my mouth felt like a piece of cement all of the sudden and my jaw ached every time I chewed. I stepped around the chair and reached for a tissue, discreetly spitting out the gum and throwing it away. Then I reached for the clippers and plugged them in, resting then in front of the mirror.
“Short on the sides, a little longer on the top,” he instructed.
I grabbed a clean black comb and my sheers and took my place behind the chair.
One, two, three… I counted and then pushed my fingers into his hair.
It was soft and a little unruly. It was thick so it instantly covered my hands, hiding them from sight.
I hope I can’t find them. The thought made me jerk and the tip of the sheers caught on his hair and pulled.
“Sorry,” I said, clearing my throat, and pulled my hands away.
After that I tried not to think about who was sitting here. I tried to only focus on the hair.
That lasted about five seconds. How was a girl supposed to be so close to a man who literally made her heart race and not be affected?