Chapter 15 Goose
GOOSE
“Whatcha thinking?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to decide.”
“Anything look good?”
“Are you kidding?” Presley’s eyes were wide as she studied the lengthy menu. “Everything looks good, and it smells good, too.”
“Tastes good, too. Trust me. Get whatever. You can’t go wrong.”
The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy. No white tablecloths or candles. Just worn booths, good food, and servers who actually wanted to be there. It wasn’t too crowded, so we could actually carry on a conversation.
I held up the menu, pretending to look it over, but I already knew what I wanted, and she was sitting across from me.
And I have to say, she was looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.
She’d straightened her hair and had one side tucked behind her ear, and she was wearing dark jeans and a brown sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places.
After a few moments, she peered over her menu and said, “I’m torn.”
“You and your commitment issues.”
“I don’t have commitment issues.”
“Bet Gary would disagree.”
“Hey, no fair.”
“Poor ol’ Gary.”
“You’re a mess.”
She laughed, and just like that, the knot in my chest loosened a notch. I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes, and caught her watching. I dropped my hand and asked, “What?”
“Nothing.” Her smile widened. “Nothing at all.”
“Um-hmm. Whatever you say, boss.”
The server came over and took our order, then disappeared to the back, leaving us alone once again. There was a moment where we both just sat there, holding each other’s gaze a second longer than we should, but in that silence, I felt something I hadn’t felt with any other woman.
I wanted this to go right.
Not perfect. Hell, nothing’s ever perfect.
I wanted real. Honest. No past. No ghosts. No Davis and what he had just put us through. Just her and me, letting the cards play out as they may. And I gotta say, my hand was looking pretty damn good. I just hoped she felt the same about hers.
By the time the plates were cleared, the easy part of the night had settled in. She told me about going to cosmetology school and partnering with the salon, and I shared a little about club life and my renovations at the house. It was easy. It was nice.
The server came back over and asked, “You two thinking about dessert?”
I glanced over at Presley, and when she nodded, I answered, “Absolutely.”
The server smiled. “The peach cobbler’s still warm.”
“That’d be great. Bring two forks.”
“You got it.”
When the server walked away, I leaned back in the booth and felt relaxed in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks. Presley watched me for a second, and then her head tilted like she was mulling something over. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen the look tonight, so I asked, “Okay. Spit it out.”
“It’s nothing.” She giggled. “You just keep pushing your hair out of your eyes.”
“It gets in the way.”
“Seems like it’s been happening a lot.”
“It has.” I shrugged. “I just haven’t taken the time to do anything about it.”
“I could cut it for you.”
I immediately pictured her standing close, her fingers brushing through my hair, and smelling her soft scent as she trimmed the long ends, and I couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting. Damn tempting. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I was just offering.”
“Alright, then. When do you wanna do it?”
“How ‘bout after dessert?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Half an hour later, the dessert bowl was wiped clean, the tab was paid, and we were on our way to Presley’s salon. The drive over was quiet, but in the best way possible. Streetlights slid across the windshield, and every now and then, I’d catch her glancing over in my direction.
I might’ve been wrong, but I had the feeling that she was actually enjoying herself. I pulled up into the parking space and killed the engine before following her inside. She flipped on the lights, one by one, and the place came alive.
It was small. There were only four or five stations, but one stood out from the others.
it was clean and unmistakably hers. The mirrors were polished, the chairs were lined up just right, and all the hair products were arranged by color and brand.
There were wood planks on the back wall and thick white trim throughout, and she had various quotes and flowers scattered throughout the place, giving it that country feel that everyone seems to be into these days.
It was nice.
It was clear she was proud of it.
“This is nice.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. But then again, I’ve never been to a chick salon before.”
“Guys come here, too.”
“No guys I know.”
She cocked her brow and shook her head as she gestured her hand toward the chair. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I sauntered over and sat like I was told, and she quickly draped a cape around my neck before she started running her fingers through my hair. My breath hitched before I could stop it.
Damn.
She noticed. There was no way she didn’t, but she didn’t comment. She just smiled to herself and reached for the scissors. “So how short do you want to go?”
“Not sure short needs to be in the vocabulary.”
“Okay. So, how about just an inch or so?” she suggested. “Just enough to get it out of your eyes.”
“That sounds good.”
She nodded, then moved in. She started slow and careful. Her fingers combed through my hair, and her nails barely raked against my scalp. It felt good. Damn good. She was quiet and intentional—nothing like Bruce down at the barbershop.
Man talked ninety to nothing, and he wasn’t nearly as pretty.
I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of having her so close. Every touch, every breath, pulled me deeper into her trance. Her hip brushed against my shoulder as she shifted positions, and I had to grip the arm of the chair to keep my hands were they belonged.
There are no words to describe how much I wanted to reach for her, pull her into my lap, and plant my mouth on hers. I was teetering on the edge when she leaned in closer, and I felt the warmth of her breath against my ear. Without thinking, I lifted my hand and rested it on her hip.
She stilled, but she didn’t pull away.
She glanced down at me and smiled. “You good?”
“I’m more than good.”
I would’ve never dreamed that a fucking haircut could turn me on, but there I sat, fighting a complete come apart, praying that this damn cape was enough to cover the massive bulge growing in my pants. This was self-restraint like I’d never had to endure.
Fuck me.
This woman had gotten under my skin, and she’d done it without even trying. She stepped between my knees, and I didn’t bother inching back. There was no sense pretending this was anything other than what it was, so I stayed right where I was and let her decide where the moment would take us.
It took her a second, but then her breath caught. It was just a hint, and I felt it more than I heard it.
But she recovered fast.
She kept working like the shift in the air hadn’t rattled us both. Her thigh brushed mine as she repositioned. It was brief but deliberate, and my jaw tightened in response. I dropped my hands to my thighs, pressing the pads of my thumbs into the muscle, hoping it would ground me.
It didn’t.
She kept cutting, calm and steady, and did her best to seem unfazed as she continued to stand between my legs. When she was finally finished, she stepped back and turned the chair to face the mirror. “What do you think?”
I barely glanced at my reflection, but I could see it was a good cut. Hell, I looked better than I had in years, but I couldn’t have cared less about my fucking hair. My eyes met hers in the mirror. “I think I’m gonna need a cold shower and a stiff drink.”
“You’re impossible.”
She laughed and shook her head as she unfastened the cape, gently pulling it from my shoulders. I stood and leaned in as I told her, “Maybe, but you’re the one with the scissors in your hand and me in that chair.”
“Well, you’re free now.” She swept the hair from the floor and over to the trash. “Surely you can behave until we get back to the truck.”
“I make no promises.”
She locked up, and we made our way back out to the truck. Before she climbed inside, she glanced over at me with a longing look in her eyes, and all my restraint faded into the night. I stepped toward her and announced, “I’m going to kiss you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” I leaned in close and repeated, “I’m going to kiss you.”
She didn’t move.
She just stood there, letting me slip my arm around her waist, and she didn’t resist in the slightest when I pulled her against my chest. And before she could argue, I planted my lips against hers.
This kiss was full of heat and intention. I wasn’t holding back. It was fucking incredible, and before I knew it, she’d melted right into me. Her hands fisted my shirt, and I was struggling to keep control. When I finally pulled back, I looked down at her and said, “Thanks for the haircut.”
“Anytime.”
The date might’ve been coming to an end, but this thing between us was just getting started.