Chapter 19
The Sweetest Torture
Justin
Joel was right that the team wanted to see how I was doing firsthand, and they forwarded the date when they’d be in town to check on me.
Joel had also commented on my shaggy appearance, bringing up another problem.
I looked different from my team photos, and not in a good way.
Something I should remedy before I met the team.
I hadn’t wanted to shave while my hand was out of commission. I’d never liked electric razors, and sadly the hair on my face was now beyond what an electric razor could handle. The hair on my head… I didn’t need to tie it back yet, so I’d deal with it in Toronto where I had a guy I trusted.
When Mia came in the morning, I asked her if she knew someplace I could get the beard dealt with. If I wanted to assure the team that I wasn’t going to explode in anger at anyone, looking less like a mountain hermit and more like the player they were used to would help.
She studied my face and I fought the urge to scratch the beard.
“I can do that for you. What exactly do you want? Clean-shaven, stubble, beard but tamed?”
Now my hand did scratch through the beard. “I don’t know.”
Mia raised her brows.
I huffed. “I don’t want it like this. It’s been driving me nuts.
I just never considered anything but clean-shaven except in the playoffs.
” Back when I’d been with Mia, anything I grew on my face had been thin and patchy and embarrassing.
That wasn’t the problem now, so why had I never considered keeping the playoff beard?
Oh, right. Sharleen. She liked smooth-shaven.
“It might be easier and less difficult to maintain for now if we didn’t do clean-shaven.
What do you think?” What did current-day Mia find attractive?
Did she hate facial hair? Her cheeks turned a little pink, and I wondered what that was about.
“Some stubble or a short beard wouldn’t require as much upkeep. ”
Picturing Mia right in front of me, her hands on my face as she shaved me? Made me glad I still was mostly hidden by my hair, because I could feel my entire body warm up. Probably not a good idea. But I didn’t know how to tell her that without crossing lines.
She took my silence for agreement. “Why don’t we try to shorten this mess for starters and see how it goes?”
Face-to-face, almost able to kiss—the blood roared in my ears and I missed what she said. She left the room and I took deep breaths, telling myself to calm the fuck down.
When she returned, she’d been upstairs to the bathroom and was holding my shaving bag, as well as a case I’d never seen before. I stared at her.
“Is this a problem? I’d noticed where your kit was, and you said you wanted to do this.”
Had I? I gave myself a mental shake. “No, it’s fine.”
She narrowed her eyes but let it pass. “We can do it in the powder room down here. Easy to clean up after.”
Smallest room in the house. Sure.
I walked into the tiny room and leaned against the wall, waiting for her to join me. She brought her stuff in, setting out the clipper set that must be hers. “You have clippers?”
“Uh, yeah. I do this for clients, and I also cut Arne’s hair.”
Suddenly I was jealous of those other clients, and we needed to finish this ASAP because I was a mess. And I didn’t mean the beard.
“Where do you want me?” As soon as the words slipped out, my mind went to a lot of places, and none of them were connected to being professional. Having her this close, smelling her shampoo—it was stirring up a lot of memories and emotions, all jumbled together.
“Sit on the toilet. That puts you at a good height.”
I sat. She took a towel and wrapped it around my neck. I stayed absolutely still, desperately not looking down her top.
Fuck. This was torture.
When she stood up, she was flushed. Was the room warm? It felt warm.
She turned with a pair of scissors. “I’ll get rid of some of the length first, and then even it up with the trimmers. Okay?”
I nodded. There was something stuck in my throat, and I didn’t want to draw attention to it by speaking.
“Okay. Good. Right.” She shook out her hands before taking my chin in her left hand, gently bringing my face up.
I met her gaze. Her eyes were the same. Exactly the same.
Tawny brown around the pupil, melting into green with a darker line of green around the outside of her iris.
There was a fleck of brown in the green on her left eye, something I’d tracked the first time we’d made out.
There were fine lines around the outside and faint shadows underneath.
What did she see, staring this closely at me?
Had I changed? I was eleven years older. I had to show signs of that.
She cleared her throat and swallowed. “Are you nervous with scissors around your face?”
I couldn’t shake my head with her hand on me, so I managed a terse “No.”
Her eyes left mine and focused on my cheek.
I felt her fingers gently moving, the scissors snicking.
I closed my eyes and recounted my stats from last season, then Cooper’s, and then as many of the team’s as I could.
Because pulling her down into a kiss was not what I should do. I’d remember the reasons later.
It was the sweetest torture. I could block the sight of her, but not the wisp of shampoo teasing my nostrils, the feel of her fingers on my skin, the warmth of her knees and hand pressing against me as she worked her way through my beard.
It seemed forever before she stepped back and I heard the buzz of the trimmer.
I wanted her to hurry, and I wanted her to never finish. In this bubble, in the small room, it was a moment out of our regular lives. Just the two of us, the past behind, the future out of reach. It was heaven.
“So, um, does this look okay?”
I blinked my eyes open, realizing the trimmers were off and the job done. Mia stepped back into the doorway so I could stand up to see the mirror over the sink.
My reflection looked better than what I’d been seeing the last few weeks. The wild hair on my cheeks and chin was gone, and what was left was smooth and followed the shape of my jaw. I twisted my chin from one side to the other. It was different, but I liked it.
I turned, and even with her standing in the doorway, there was no space between us. “It’s great. Thank you.”
Her eyes flickered from my face to the mirror to the sink. “Okay, good. Now we need to shave the…” She waved her hand at me and almost hit my nose. “Sorry!”
I was glad she was flustered, that she couldn’t treat me like just any client. But this wasn’t why we were here, and I sure as fuck didn’t need her nervous while she used my razor on me.
I sat again and she gave me another towel to wrap around my neck.
Then the excruciating lathering of the soap, her soft fingers spreading it on my cheeks and my neck.
It was erotic, and blood started to rush south.
I was rigidly still as she scraped the blade over my skin with gentle care.
When she finished, an eternity later, she rinsed the blade and used the towel to wipe off my face. The torture was almost over.
I stood to my feet, desperate to get some space.
She bumped back into the sink before her eyes widened and her hand moved to my cheek. “Did I—” She stopped, eyes dilating, as she stared at me.
I didn’t know what expression was showing on my face, but she was right there, fingers still on my cheek. Her lips parted and I couldn’t control myself any longer. I leaned down and pressed my mouth to hers.
The years vanished like they’d never happened, the magic of Mia’s kiss transporting me back to the past, desperately in love with her. My hands moved to cradle her face as I deepened the kiss.
And she was kissing me back. A sound in her throat, her hand sliding into my hair. For a few moments, suspended in time, everything was the way it was meant to be.
But as I tried to get closer, I bumped her into the sink and she jerked away.
Reality rushed back in. What the fuck had I done? I hadn’t asked…but she’d kissed me back.
“Sorry,” I said, willing to apologize for knocking her into the sink, even if I couldn’t regret the kiss.
Her cheeks were flushed and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Justin, we can’t…”
“I know, I know, you’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll just—” And I slid out of the doorway and pulled off the towel before I walked straight out the kitchen door to the backyard.
I stayed there, bits of beard tickling under my T-shirt. I stayed till Mia called that she was leaving. Would she even come back?
As the sun set, the sky darkening, I had no answer.
Mia
What had I done? What the hell had I done? I couldn’t kiss my clients. I was supposed to help Justin, not fuse myself to his mouth and suck on his tongue like I needed it for sustenance.
I’d offered to shave him like I would any client. But he wasn’t any client.
I ran, leaving a little early, but Justin wasn’t going to complain. I stopped at the grocery store to clear my head. We were always running out of things, the way my siblings and Bruce ate, so I might as well do something productive.
I was very productively standing in the cereal aisle, gazing blindly at the boxes on offer, when I got a text.
We’re shooting not far from you today. Think Arne would like to come and see what it’s like on set?
It took me a moment. Shooting. Shooting Erik’s show, right.
That made sense. Would Arne like it? Of course he would.
He was a kid and he was curious about everything.
Plus, it might distract him from hockey.
His dad’s arrival had given him some excitement, but I’d seen hockey sticks doodled on his homework.
I hadn’t researched acting classes, but they couldn’t take more time and money than hockey, right?
Should we come after dinner?
Come anytime. You can eat with me on set.
So, a meal I didn’t have to make? Sign me up.
Okay. Where do I go?