Chapter 2
Iwatched Cherry the rest of the evening. I sat with Chase, discussing a few other renos he was planning, but my gaze didn’t stray from the pretty redhead very often. Our eyes met time and again, and she was always the first to look away. But I saw the color in her cheeks and the way she tossed her hair, as if attempting to dismiss me, only to glance my way once more a few moments later. I liked her looking at me. I hoped she liked what she saw as much as I enjoyed staring at her. More than once, I tamped down the urge to go sit beside her. I wanted her attention, to talk to her, get her number. Maybe steal a kiss or wrap my hand around hers. But I resisted. I had the feeling, despite her bravado, she was skittish, and I didn’t want to scare her off.
Later, as I was getting a coffee in the kitchen, she walked in, her hands filled with plates and cutlery. I had noticed how she jumped up to help whenever she could. I found that appealing. She wasn’t a woman who expected to be waited on. Although if she asked, I would happily do so.
I reached out, taking the stack from her hands and setting it on the counter. “Coffee?” I asked.
“Please.”
I poured her a cup, adding cream and a single sugar cube, handing it to her.
“How did you know?” she queried.
“I was watching earlier. I took notes.”
She lifted one eyebrow at me, her lips pursed. “Is that so?”
I nodded, leaning against the counter. “I took a lot of notes.”
She tossed her head, and I grinned behind the mug, taking a sip.
“Is that so?” she repeated.
I nodded. “You’re highly organized. You like to be in charge. You’re not afraid of hard work. You’re a great mother, and you extend that maternal instinct to other young people. There is nothing pretentious or fake about you. And when you’re feeling anxious or unsure, you toss your hair.” I winked at her. “I like that.”
She blinked.
“You are incredibly sexy and have no idea how sensuous you are. You have a great ass, and I hope you wear leggings a lot when I see you. I hope I get to discover how that ass feels gripped in my hands one day.” I took a sip of coffee. “Soon.”
She looked around the kitchen as if making sure I was speaking to her, not someone else.
“Yes, you, Cherry G.”
“You can’t say things like that to me.”
“I think I already did.”
“You said you liked me as a friend.”
“No, I said I treated my friends well. I’ll treat you even better.”
“I-I have to put these in the dishwasher,” she sputtered, turning away. I saw the color in her cheeks and the way her eyes glittered under the light. She liked what I was saying.
I tilted my head, grinning widely. She was methodical as she slid the plates into the rack—not unexpected. But it was the fact that she bent as she did so, thrusting that perfect ass in my direction again. I drained my coffee and approached her. I put my mug in the dishwasher, my fingers brushing her hand. She stilled, looking up. I was close to her again, inhaling her fragrance, feeling her warmth. Our eyes locked, the heat between us sizzling. When she unconsciously licked her lips, I groaned quietly. “Very soon, I’m going to kiss those lips,” I murmured.
She looked dazed. “But not now?” she whispered.
“No. If I start, I won’t stop, and your daughter and her friends will get quite the show,” I replied, wrapping my hand around her thick braid. “But soon.” I tugged gently, tipping her head back. I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Until then, Cherry G.”
I turned and walked away before I did something I shouldn’t. I heard her hard exhale of air as I walked toward the door.
“Don’t count on it, Mr. Salvatore.”
I grinned as I walked out the door.
There she was.
Chase was quiet that week. He’d been so excited and upbeat before the painting party, and I wondered what had happened. I didn’t like to pry, and I was grateful when I saw him talking to Charly privately. I knew how close they were and that she would help him solve whatever was bothering him. At least, I hoped she did. I wasn’t so good with conversations involving other people’s feelings. Although, if a friend needed me to listen, I would try. I could barely understand my own emotions, never mind anyone else’s. None of the guys in the garage were good at discussing feelings with each other. Charly excelled at it—whether you wanted to share or not. Somehow, she dragged it out of you.
Chase and I had plans this weekend after we shut the garage. We were heading into Toronto to a large building supply store. They had a bigger selection of materials at better prices than we could get in the tiny hardware store in Littleburn. Then I was taking him to my favorite barbecue place so we could stuff ourselves with the best barbecue around. And I planned on picking his brain about Cherry. Any little piece of information I could get would be helpful. I was especially hoping for her number or even her place of employment so I could go and find her.
She was on my mind constantly. Her pretty eyes and unique hair color were intriguing. The way she took charge and treated the people around her was as endearing as it was a turn-on. And that ass. Spectacular. So was her attitude. She wouldn’t suffer fools easily, and I had a feeling she was going to be a challenge.
One I would enjoy.
I only had to make her realize she would as well.
That right there was the first hurdle to overcome.
But I was ready.
I finished up the client, spritzing on some hair spray and tucking an errant curl into place. Handing her the mirror to allow her to inspect my work, I was pleased when she smiled. “Awesome as usual, Cherry.”
After chatting with her for a moment, I began to clean up my station. She was the last client of the day. My daughter, Hannah, had called to say she was coming in early. We were going for supper and would spend the evening watching a movie and catching up. Tomorrow was a big shopping day for us. She needed linens and house stuff for her new place, and I loved to shop the warehouse sales with her. You never knew what you might find.
I waved goodbye to the other stylists and headed up the back steps to my apartment over the salon. Inside, I grabbed a quick shower to rid myself of the chemical smell since I had done a couple of perms today, and that always left an odor. After making a cup of coffee and curling up on the sofa with a sigh, I shut my eyes, feeling tired. I was always tired by the end of the week. Standing all day and the constant strain on my shoulders and arms as I cut hair took a toll. My back ached lately, and I had to admit, I wasn’t sure how much longer I wanted to cut hair. It had been great when I was younger. I owned my own place and could make my hours around Hannah’s schedule. Standing all day didn’t bother my much-younger body the way it did now.
When I’d closed my shop and gone to work for someone else, I had been glad to be rid of the constant headaches of owning my own business. The staff, the worry over bills, maintenance, supplies, and troublesome clients were now someone else’s concern. I found this job and the small apartment right over the shop, and it had worked out fine, although the apartment wasn’t a place I saw myself in forever. Hannah was on her own, and I didn’t need the house anymore. It had felt good to leave it. Leave the memories that, even after all these years, stayed with me in that house. I could never open the door without remembering the day I’d found Mike’s commanding officer on the other side with the news that had changed my life—our lives—forever.
I sighed, pushing away those dark thoughts. I had found the strength to keep going, and I built a nice life for Hannah and me. With her moving to Lomand, I missed her a lot. We were very close. I was looking forward to seeing her. Having her catch me up on the news.
The image of a tall, sexy man came to mind, and I wondered if she would have any information on him.
Dom Salvatore.
I shook my head to clear it.
He was a force of nature. Cocky. Sure of himself. Outspoken and direct.
And so incredibly out of bounds.
I was struck by his masculine beauty the moment he walked into the kitchen. His tattooed biceps bulged, carrying three cases of pop and beer. His T-shirt hugged his torso, his long legs encased in jeans. He was muscular and fit. Tall and broad across his shoulders. Lean at the waist.
He sported scruff on his face, the dark shadow highlighting his ruggedness. His brown hair was short, and his dark eyes smoldered. I couldn’t stop looking at him.
And he stared back. All day. Every time I looked, he was locked on me. And when he spoke, his voice made the hairs on my neck stand up. I felt something I hadn’t experienced in years. Pure, unadulterated desire.
And he scared me.
I sighed, wrapping my hand around my mug. He’d been on my mind all week. His low laughter. His sultry looks in my direction. The way he teased me. Found excuses to be close. To touch me. I thought of the seriousness on his face when he answered my question about painting. He was all swagger and teasing, but below the surface, I had begun to have the feeling there was more than met the eye. He simply didn’t show it to many people.
I swore I still felt the press of his mouth on my forehead. That sweet, intimate gesture stayed with me more than any caress a man had bestowed on me in years.
Not that there had been many. After my husband died, I had been too busy trying to stay in one piece and raise Hannah to have time to date. I’d had a low period a couple of years after I lost Mike when I’d allowed myself to try. It had ended in disaster, and I swore never again. Losing Mike had almost ended me, and what had happened when I’d trusted the wrong man had taken me a long time to recover from. I concentrated on Hannah, making her the focal point.
As she’d grown up and needed less of my time, I’d found I wasn’t really interested in having a man come around and try to change my life. I liked being independent. Not having to ask for permission to do anything. There were times I was lonely and longed for a man’s touch, another person to share my life with, but I quickly got over those moments, remembering what had happened when I’d tried. I dated a few times, although single mothers were not really sought-after. Most of the men I went for a first date with never called for a second. The few who did seemed to resent the fact that Hannah would take priority, so being alone was the way life went.
But now, Hannah was grown with a life of her own.
And I was lonely at times.
A fact I had a feeling Dom Salvatore would be happy to rectify.
However briefly.
The question was, would I be happy with a fast, passionate affair? A man like him, a reformed bad boy, was probably only interested in a short-term thing.
Was I?
Another thought struck me. What if he wasn’t what I thought he was? What if his interest was real and genuine? What if the man was exactly what he claimed to be?
Was I prepared for that?
I groaned. Neither scenario helped. I was still confused and nervous.
And I hated that.
Hannah arrived as I finished my coffee, the caffeine giving me the needed pep. I hadn’t been sleeping as well lately, the image of dark, smoldering eyes and strong hands waking me often.
Not that I would tell my daughter that.
We went to our favorite pho place and chatted. She showed me pictures of how she was putting together the rooms we’d helped to paint.
“Looks great, jellybean,” I said. I was surprised how much Chase was allowing her to do, but I sensed he wanted her to feel at home with him—on every level. I had to admit, I liked him a great deal, and I hoped Hannah did as well.
I paused at a picture. “What is this?”
“Oh.” Hannah wiped her mouth. “Chase bought a new bed. He never thought to buy sheets, so I’m going to pick him up a set.”
“He’s a nice boy.”
She smirked. “He is hardly a boy, Mom. He is a couple years older than me.”
I waved my hand. “Everyone is a boy or girl to me these days, Hannah. I’m far too old.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Please. Did you see the shock on everyone’s faces when I introduced you as my mom? They all thought you were a sister or a friend.” She dipped her spring roll in the spicy mixture of soy and sriracha. “And Dom was certainly transfixed.”
I rolled my eyes, feigning disinterest at her words. “Bossy, that one. Far too forward.”
Hannah grinned.
“And we’re not here to talk about him.” I picked up my teacup, sipping it. “What is going on with you and Chase?”
“He’s my landlord. And roomie. We’re friends—I think.”
I shook my head. “Hannah, baby. I’m your mom. I could see the sparks between you from across the room. You light up like a Christmas tree when he’s around. And he zeroes in on you the second he walks into the room.”
She sighed. “I thought there was something, but since we painted, he’s been…I don’t know…off. We even argued. He apologized, but he is upset about something. I feel like I’ve hurt him somehow, and I don’t know how to fix it. He’s polite and accommodating, but distant.”
“Do you think the whole painting his house was too much? All the people invading his space?”
“I don’t know. Except he adores Charly and Gabby. He’s very close with the guys, and they help one another a lot. The only new faces were us. I think maybe he’s rethinking having a female roommate.” She laughed without humor. “Me, specifically.”
“Has he said that?”
“No. In fact, last night, he looked upset when he wondered if I was questioning the whole thing. He told me he liked me there. He practically begged me not to move out.”
I finished my soup, then pushed away my bowl. “Maybe he has stronger feelings for you and isn’t sure how to express them. You two looked pretty cozy on the weekend.”
“Well, now we’re two icebergs crossing in the ocean. Close but not touching.”
“What is he doing this weekend?”
“Spending the afternoon tomorrow supply shopping, then he and Dom are going to some bar Dom likes an hour away.”
I snorted. “No doubt a great stomping ground for pickups. Not too close to home that you have to worry about a relationship developing.”
She grimaced, and I patted her hand. “Sorry, jellybean. I was thinking more of Dom than Chase. He has that love-’em-and-leave-’em vibe. The whole bad-boy thing. Except he’s a little past that.” I shook my head. “I’m just not sure he knows it.”
Hannah shrugged. “I’ve talked to him a couple of times. He seems genuine. Maybe his ‘vibe’ is something you’re putting on him.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you liked him, and it makes you nervous.”
I tossed my hair defiantly. “No, I didn’t.”
“He is pretty sexy with that intense look and the tattoos and all. Lots of swagger.”
“Takes more to turn my head than some swagger, daughter of mine.” I paused. “Although his, ah, swagger is pretty nice. Especially from the back view.”
We both started to laugh, and it felt good to make light of the situation. I didn’t want to think of him any other way, even if he was different from the first impression I had of him. I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
We talked more about Chase, their budding relationship, and her future plans. I got the sense Chase was going to be a huge part of them. I felt pleased, knowing she might have found someone. I liked the fact that she was living in a smaller town. It was safer in so many ways. I had hated the fact that she’d decided to be a cop like her father, but I had chosen to support her rather than drive her away. When she’d been hurt in the line of duty, I was grateful she’d decided to take a job in a smaller place. Lomand and the surrounding area were very low on the crime scale, and even though it meant I didn’t see her as often, it was a good compromise. She was safe. That was the most important thing. She was the most important thing in my life.
And although I missed her being close, the fact that she was more sheltered and happier was far more important.