Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I clenched my jaw. “Did he get what was coming to him?”
He bit his lip and looked away. “Definitely.”
“So it was payback for what he’d done to you?” I was treading carefully, but he got my meaning.
“Not exactly payback, but…” He squared his shoulders. “I finally stood my ground.”
“Good for you.” Our gazes met and held. “Was he held accountable for any, um, damage he’d done?”
He shook his head. “His word against mine, so I’m hoping karma takes care of it.”
“I hope so too.”
He lifted his hand again. “So I’m not sure your plan would work.”
“How about we test it out?” I swallowed down my eagerness, wanting so bad to convince him. “I trust you.”
“You might need to have the cut fixed after. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Noted.” I laughed, relief flooding me. “Do I need to pick up any supplies? I think I have some sharp shears lying around somewhere.”
He sniffed almost self-importantly. “I still have my set.”
“Nice.” The way he’d said it gave me another snapshot of his former life.
Confident, charismatic, and sophisticated.
“So how about tonight after work?” I held my breath as he considered it.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Great. See you around six?” When he nodded, I said, “I’ll meet you at the front entrance.”
13
LACHLAN
I rolled my cart toward Foster’s building. Fuck, I was nervous. Not so much about seeing Foster again, though he was so incredibly handsome, it was hard not to want to look at him unabashedly. And now I’d be very close to him, and my hands would probably shake even more. I’d offered him a disclaimer, but…what if I screwed it up?
I used to be confident, jam-packed with appointments from customers who appreciated my skills, and look at me now. Afraid to give a guy I met on the street a haircut.
But I’d also admit I was itching to get back to my roots—no pun intended. Though practicing on a mannequin might’ve been better. Like we used to do in cosmetology school. Was I that out of practice?
Foster was standing under the awning, waiting for me, and seeing his smile made my stomach settle a little.
“Hi,” he said shyly. Maybe he was nervous too.
“Hi,” I replied, returning my own awkward grin.
“You ready to head up?”
I smirked. “No. But a deal’s a deal.”
He held open the door. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
“You might disagree when you show up at work tomorrow looking like Frankenstein.”
He laughed loudly as we moved toward the elevator. When the doors opened, a woman stepped into the lobby and eyed us suspiciously. As did the man who stepped on the elevator last minute to ride with us. He glanced from my rolling cart to me and then to Foster several times, likely trying to put the pieces together. Hopefully, he didn’t tell the superintendent that Foster had let vagrants inside the building.
“Don’t worry about him,” Foster said after the man exited to his floor. “Nosy neighbors.”
“Easier said than done,” I admitted.
“You’re my guest.” The doors opened on his floor. “Fuck ’em.”
I’d admit it was a thrill to hear that from a guy who was normally even-keeled and gentle with his words.
Oscar greeted me excitedly at the door, and I crouched down to pet him.
“I know, two times in one day.” I kissed his snout. “Good boy.” When I looked up, Foster was watching us intently. “What?”
“Nothing. Sorry, I just…” He shook his head and took a step back. “I should probably take him out for a potty break.”
“I can tag along,” I said, feeling strange being alone in his place, again.
“Nah, we’ll be quick. Just…make yourself comfortable.”
After they left, I made use of the bathroom by washing my face and hands, reapplying deodorant, and quickly brushing my teeth for a second time today. I mostly avoided looking at myself in the mirror. There was nothing I could do about my appearance anyway. But I was nervous knowing we’d be in proximity while I was cutting his hair, and freshening up helped ease my fears.
I was waiting in the hall when they returned about ten minutes later.
“So how should we do this?” Foster asked as he hung up the leash.
I looked around the apartment. “Um, how about a chair in the middle of the room? And we’ll need a broom or vacuum for afterward.”
“Sounds good.”
He got to work retrieving towels while I dragged a chair over and removed my shears from their case. Holding them for the purpose of using them felt foreign—mostly because my hand was different, my fingers crooked, and I didn’t know how I’d adjust. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
When the door buzzer blared, I stiffened. Was he expecting company?
He headed toward the intercom. “Sorry, maybe I should’ve waited to order delivery.”
“No, it’s okay. You have to eat.”
He frowned, then pushed a button and said, “Come on up.”