Chapter 15
15
HOPE
We each climb into our vehicles and drive home. It’s unnerving knowing a police officer is driving behind me. Keeping an eye on my speedometer, I stay a couple of miles under the speed limit and make sure I flick on my blinker well in advance. And where I would normally drive through a yellow light, I stop. When I pull into my driveway, my shoulders slump and I blow out a long breath, then stretch my neck from side to side to release the tension from my shoulders and neck— that was so stressful .
Ben pulls in behind me and climbs out of his car with a knowing grin. “You always that careful on the road?”
Heat flushes up through my cheeks—he knew what I was doing. “Of course.”
He nods slowly with a chuckle and a raised brow. “Sure.” He totally doesn’t believe me . Rex leaps out of the car and Ben engages the locks, and after Rex sniffs around our front yard, they both meet me and Evan at the front steps.
I unlock the front door and step inside with Evan, Ben, and Rex close behind. “Evan, can you please take a dining chair out to the back porch while I get my gear?” I still haven’t gotten around to buying chairs to match the outdoor table.
He heads to the kitchen and grabs a chair while Ben locks the front door behind us. Once I have everything set up on the back porch, I gesture for Ben to take a seat. “Evan, can you please fill one of the ice cream containers we have in the bottom of the pantry with water for Rex.”
“Okay, Mom.” He strolls back inside to look after Rex.
Once Ben’s seated, I run my fingers through his hair. It’s so soft. I love hair. I’ve loved it since I was a little girl and used my dolls as clients. There’s something soothing about the strands sliding through my fingers. “Do you want me to follow what you already have here, but make it shorter?”
He runs his fingers through the strands, colliding with mine, sending tingles fizzing along my skin. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Do you know how low you have the clippers on the sides? That’ll give me an idea of how much to take off,” I ask as I continue to run my fingers through the soft, dark brown strands. I can’t seem to stop myself.
Gosh, he smells great this close .
I shake my thoughts away. I should not be noticing how great he smells.
“Usually a two.”
I nod. “That looks about right.”
Evan brings Rex back outside and they play in the backyard, with Rex following Evan around like they’ve grown up together. Their bond blossomed fast, and I love seeing my boy so happy and carefree.
I fasten the cape around his neck, ensuring it covers his clothes, then grab my clippers, attach the number two guard, and collect my comb. “You have gorgeous, thick hair.” A lot of women would love to have this sort of thickness.
“Uh, thanks.” His strong, tanned hands rest over the top of the cape on his thighs, and I watch him curl his thick fingers to make fists, turning his knuckles white.
Starting at the bottom, I comb the hair into the clippers and work my way around the base of his hairline and upward until I reach his ears. Once I’m happy with that, I wet the longer strands left on top and exchange the clippers for scissors to blend the longer length with the shorter sides. I work my way around his head, ensuring I keep the length consistent, but getting longer as I get closer to the top.
Moving around to the front of his body, he opens his legs wider so I can slip in between them, my outer thighs touching his. When I glance down at his face, the muscles in his jaw clench, and I watch him swallow harshly. My pulse pounds in my veins as my blood rushes through my body, and his eyes seem to be locked at the base of my throat.
Can he see how fast my heart’s beating?
My response to him is a little embarrassing, and I know I’m blushing because of the heat in my cheeks. I’ve never experienced this type of reaction to a man other than Wyatt. I cut men’s hair all the time, and I’ve never , not once, felt the flutter in my stomach like I do right now.
What the hell is happening to me?
Shame swiftly floods through me, drowning me in guilt and making my stomach sink like the Titanic.
I’m a married woman. I’m a married woman. I’m a married woman .
I chant the words over and over again to remind myself I shouldn’t be looking at Ben or reacting to his proximity. I made a promise to Wyatt, and I intend to keep it. Ben’s here because he’s Evan’s friend. I’m just doing him a favor to thank him for being so good to my son.
The son I had with Wyatt.
Wyatt, my husband.
Taking a step back, I swallow past the guilt lodged in my throat. I lift my eyes back to his hair and work through the strands, using the comb and my fingers to gather and measure the length before I cut each section, keeping things professional and squashing the attraction I feel to him.
I’m utterly mortified.
If Ben could read my thoughts, I’m certain he’d run a mile—and then Evan would miss out on having such a great role model in his life. Without Wyatt in the picture, my priority is ensuring Evan has good men in his life he can turn to. Wyatt’s friends—Shane and Nix—have been fantastic. My brother Cole lives too far away to offer any support, but Dad and Wyatt’s dad are regular fixtures in his life, which is a blessing. Another stable man to provide guidance would be amazing, especially since I’ve asked Shane to step back.
Pressure lands on my hips, and I jump a little. Looking down, I find Ben’s warm hands causing the pressure where they rest gently on my slight curves, as he looks up at me with furrows across his forehead.
“Are you okay?”
When I raise my eyes to his, I notice small patches of amber near the pupils in his concerned gray gaze. So pretty.
What is going on with me?
His hands are so big. So warm. So terrifying .
I swallow, then lick my dry lips, and put on an air of nonchalance. “Yeah,” I say, but the single word comes out raspy and on a shaky breath, which is not convincing at all.
He doesn’t remove his hands, and neither of us looks away. For a few long moments, we’re caught in each other’s gaze. My heart beats like a drum—thick and heavy. A pulsing rhythm that sends my blood gushing through my system and into my ears. My eyes drop to his lips and his eyes drop to mine. The heat up the side of my neck intensifies.
I’m the first to look away. Returning my focus to his hair, and the task, I desperately try to gain control of my hormones and thoughts—thoughts wholly inappropriate for a married woman.
Finally, he removes his hands, placing them back on his thighs. I should feel relief at the reprieve, instead I feel cold and left adrift. Everything’s so confusing. Maybe it would have been better if he’d come into the salon. It wouldn’t feel so intimate. It would be safer.
Evan’s feet pound on the steps, followed by the click of Rex’s nails, as they make their way toward us. “Mom, can you cut my hair like Ben’s?”
I turn toward my son with eyebrows halfway up my forehead. “You hate getting your hair cut. I always have to bribe you.”
He drops his head, looking at his feet. “Yeah, well. Ben’s hair is cool.” He looks back up at me. “If you cut mine like that, I wouldn’t mind so much.”
I’m not sure I’m ready to change his boyish hairstyle, but ultimately, it’s his hair, and his decision. “Okay, I’m almost finished here, and you guys can swap places.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Can you please bring out the lemon tea and three glasses? I’m sure Ben would like a drink.”
“Okay.” Evan heads inside, and the screen door bangs shut behind him.
I shake my head with a chuckle and look down at Ben. “Please only ever use your influence over him for good and not evil.”
He draws his finger across his heart and then repeats the process in the opposite direction. “Promise.” He winks at me, sending a flutter through my stomach, and shows his perfect teeth when he grins. All he needs is a pair of dimples, and he’d be completely irresistible.
I fidget with his hair, getting it just right, then clip around his ears and along his hairline to tidy everything up. I dust the chopped hair away from the back of his neck, ensuring I get every last strand. “Okay. I’m done. There’s a mirror in the bathroom if you’d like to take a look.”
He waves me off. “I trust you.”
I wince when I feel a hair splinter stuck beneath my fingernail, an unfortunate hazard of the job. Pinching my finger, I search for the offending hair.
Ben moves closer, taking my finger between his and studying it closely, sending tingles racing like fire up my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a hair splinter.” I pull my hand back and direct all my focus on removing the tiny hair to block my unwanted reaction to the man standing too close to me. Suddenly, the porch feels too small as he towers over me, and I take a step back to keep space between us. In an attempt to regain my equilibrium, I close my eyes as I suck my finger into my mouth to soothe the sting.
My eyes snap open and my lungs deflate when Evan steps out with a jug and three glasses, breaking the tension. Filled with relief, I take them from him to place on the outdoor table so I can pour us each a drink. We each grab a glass, and Evan sits in the chair Ben vacated.
“All right. Are you ready?”
He nods eagerly. “Sure am.”
“Are you sure? Your hair will be a lot shorter than it is now.” I study his face, looking for any sign he’s having second thoughts, but come up blank.
“Yep.”
I tip my head to the side. “Okay, then.”
Picking up my clippers, I repeat the process with his hair and as his locks fall at my feet, sadness washes over me because I know he’s going to look less like a little boy and more like a teenager. Something I’m not ready for. At all . I feel like I’ve missed a lot of the last six years because I was too busy drowning in my grief and barely surviving. And now it’s too late to get those years back.
He sits still as I shape and cut his hair, and the second I’m finished, he bolts inside to look at himself in the mirror. He races back out a few minutes later with an enormous grin and throws his arms around me. He’s behaving more like the old Evan used to, not the moody boy he’s become since he started middle school.
“Thanks, Mom. It looks awesome.” His excitement diminishes a little as he turns to Ben, looking unsure. “Do you wanna read my stories?”
Ben’s eyebrows rise, and I can read the surprise in his expression.