Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Tanner pushed the barbell up to unrack it. He lowered the weight until it brushed his pecs, enjoying the burn in his muscles and the momentary quiet in his head. On the next exhale, he repeated the set, keeping his movements smooth.
Then Kozinski’s voice broke through his focus. “Bro, she was all over me. Seriously.”
Tanner grunted as he pushed the barbell up again. It clattered onto the rack.
“I thought you were doing sets of six?” Devon Whitestone was spotting. The former Army Ranger had joined their bodyguard team in the last year. Now, he was one of Tanner’s closest friends at Bennett Security, second only to Noah. “That was just three. You okay?”
“I’m a little off today.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that. Is it a joint issue?”
Tanner rubbed his shoulder. “Who knows. Maybe.”
“Better get that looked at. Especially if you’re going for captain. You’ll have to keep up with the rest of us idiots.”
“You too about that captain shit?” Tanner sat up on the bench, grabbing his towel to wipe his neck. “Why don’t you apply if it’s so great?”
“Because I don’t have anywhere near enough experience. Besides, my girlfriend is the boss’s sister. Max would never want to seem like he’s doing me special favors, nor would I ask for any.”
“I don’t want favors, either.” Tanner wished their more senior bodyguards hadn’t retired. He wasn’t a fan of being the “elder.” It was one thing to play the mentor to the kids at the rec center, another when it came to his teammates at work.
Even if he’d wanted the promotion, trying for captain would mean more scrutiny. More time under Max’s watchful eye. All things Tanner didn’t need. He handled himself well under pressure, yet he also worried one of these days his composure would finally slip, and they’d all see beneath his mask.
They’d all figure out what he was trying to keep locked down inside.
“And then I was like, ‘That’s what she said,’” Kozinski shouted from the other side of the room. Like every guy here wanted to hear his dumb exploits. Some people were laughing, though. Dude was a bad influence.
Tanner cast a glare toward their loudmouthed teammate. “I can’t concentrate in here.”
Devon followed his stare. “Yeah, he needs a volume control.”
“Or better yet, an off button.” Tanner wiped his face with his sweat towel.
Kozinski peacocked over to the bench press, where Tanner was still sitting. “Bro, you done with that yet?”
He felt anger prickling along his skin and fought to keep it down. “I’ve got one more set.”
“Then speed it up, old man. The rest of us got places to be.”
Old man? Really? He was still in his thirties. “Are you kidding me? After you’ve been wasting time running your mouth for the last hour?”
“I was kidding. Relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax.” His breathes were shallow. Blood rushed in his ears. No worries. You’re fine. No worries.
“What happened to all your ‘Zen’ bullshit, Reed?”
Tanner jumped to standing, fists clenched.
“Whoa, stand down.” Devon stepped in between them. “We all have a team meeting in ten. Maybe everyone should focus on that instead of bickering?”
Kozinski walked back toward his little fan club, shaking his head. Like Tanner was the one with a problem.
Tanner’s fingers opened, then tightened into fists again.
Devon was watching him. Everyone was watching him.
“I need to take care of something,” Tanner said. “I’ll be back later.”
Devon followed him toward the locker room. “What about the team meeting?”
“Tell Noah it was an emergency.” He had to get out of there before he put his fist through something—like Kozinski’s face. The air was too stale. He needed to be outside with the pavement pounding against his feet.
Tanner walked down the sidewalk along Ocean Lane, dodging people on their lunch breaks.
Lately, too many things rubbed him the wrong way. The way the metal plates clanked when he loaded the bar in the gym, the way his clothes were arranged in his closet. The scratch of his T-shirt label. Everything set him on edge like nails dragging down a chalkboard.
Tanner caught sight of his reflection in a window and was surprised by the scowl that met him.
He thought of what Faith had said—that she wondered what he’d look like without the beard. That he was hiding.
Was that true?
It was the same beard he’d had for years. Same unruly hair. But he wasn’t the same on the inside, was he? His brain was a shifting mess, and the things that had felt right before didn’t fit him anymore.
He worked hard to project a certain image. The laidback bodyguard, approachable yet strong. Ready with his bumper sticker wisdom, as Faith called it. His “Zen bullshit” to use Kozinski’s obnoxious and offensive phrase.
But he didn’t like thinking his mask was literal. And he really didn’t like that Faith had picked up on it.
He walked into the first hair salon that didn’t seem busy.
A bored-looking stylist glanced up from her magazine. “Need a trim?” She had the scratchy voice of a smoker.
“More than a trim.”
“That’ll take a while,” she muttered.
He ran his fingers through his curls. “I was thinking a buzz cut. Make it easy for you.”
Now, she studied him. “Nope. That won’t work.”
“Isn’t the customer always right?”
She snorted, tossing her magazine aside. “Just leave it to me. I’ll make you look good. What about the beard? That thing needs a weedwacker.”
“I’m getting the impression you’ll do whatever you want, no matter what I say.”
She cracked her knuckles. “I’m Gladys, by the way. You should know who you’re trusting.”
“Tanner. I’m in your hands, Gladys. Don’t let me down.”
He swallowed down his nervousness and fought the sudden urge to run. It was just hair. It would grow back. He needed to face the discomfort, conquer the fear.
She washed his hair with cool water, which felt nice. To his surprise, each snip of her scissors made him feel lighter. Like he was cutting away the old, worn-out parts of himself. Starting fresh.
He found himself wondering what Faith would think of his new look. He’d been worrying about her husband’s presence in West Oaks, but so far, she kept insisting all was fine whenever he texted.
“I’m curious, Tanner. What inspired this makeover?”
“Just…seemed like it was time for a change.”
“Uh huh, sure. More like, trying to impress someone you like.”
That was partly true. If Faith hadn’t said anything about his hair, would he be here right now? “If you already knew, why’d you ask?”
Gladys seemed to contemplate this question. “I suppose I like to leave room for surprises. But most people are predictable.”
If he was trying to impress Faith, it didn’t make much sense. As far as he knew, Noah hadn’t asked her out yet. But he’d laid a claim. Even if Tanner had thought it was a good idea to make a move on Faith—which it probably wasn’t—he couldn’t now.
Gladys buzzed the sides short but left it longer on the top. He didn’t know if it looked good, necessarily, but it was different. She smoothed some product through, taming the curl.
Then, she took her clippers to his beard. Tanner couldn’t breathe as she got closer and closer to his skin.
“Don’t pass out on me.” The barest smile ghosted over her face. “I thought you wanted a change?”
“I do. But maybe not too much change.”
“All right, don’t get your undies in a twist. We’re keeping the beard, but it’ll be short.”
He let out his breath.
When she was done, the whiskers followed the contours of his face. Tanner ran his palm over the short bristles.
And…yep. He could see himself more clearly. Interesting. He’d almost forgotten this face.
Gladys ambled over to the register. “That’ll be sixty bucks.”
“Ouch. Prices have gone up since my last cut.” He handed over his credit card.
“You know how much they charge for rent on Ocean Lane?”
“Nah, I’m kidding. It was worth it. Thanks, Gladys.”
She winked. “Good luck with whoever you’re trying to impress.”
I'll need a lot more than luck, he thought. Maybe a time machine. Because when it came to Faith, he’d missed his chance.