CHAPTER ELEVEN

CASSY

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Josh shoots me a death glare and then faces Scarlet.

“Definitely not from the canine family. Although you do a great snarling impression,” Josh says, then lowers his voice. “I’d advise against it.”

Scarlet looks between Josh and me, then replies. “I’ll take it under advisement. Big men don’t scare me. Despite my size.”

Josh makes the mistake of snorting.

I cringe as Scarlet walks right up to him. It’s comical how small she is compared to his six-foot-four frame. “Why are you here?”

“To protect Cassy.”

She runs her eyes up and down his body slowly. “Qualifications? Do you know kung fu?”

I die. Right there on the spot, I die of embarrassment. Dropping my face in my hands, I hear Josh reply. “No. But I do know Jiu-jitsu.”

“You armed?” she asks next.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you have a license?” Scarlet continues.

I lift my face and let them both continue to size each other up as I walk to my small office off the staff room and drop my bags.

“A Navy SEAL!” I hear Scarlet cry. Then she appears in my doorway a second later. Josh is behind her. “You need a fucking SEAL to protect you?”

“She’s fine.” Josh says, but Scarlet simply glares at him.

“Scar, it’s fine.” I say, trying to reassure her.

“Your name is Scar?” Josh asks, smirking.

More annoying smirks.

Does he never run out of those damn things? While they’re sexy as fuck, there’s still an edge to him that reminds me how dangerous he could be. I can’t pinpoint it, but it just adds to the issue I’m having with my panties.

He needs to stop—I prefer him grumpy.

“It’s Scarlet,” she replies. “You can call me Scarlet.”

I stifle a giggle.

“Is she really fine?” she asks, all sass fading.

“No,” Josh replies. “Cassy is in danger. But I will keep her safe. Oh, and you can call me Mr. Hawke.”

Despite herself, Scarlet smiles. Then she steps farther into my office, frowns, then takes in the full length of him. “What size t-shirt do you wear?”

Oh, god, not the kung fu t-shirts thing again.

“No. Scarlet. No.” I say, then wave my hands and push between them. “Come on, the salon opens in seven minutes.”

I can tell the two of them will bicker all morning if I allow it.

“You set me up,” Josh rasps in my ear as he follows me out into the salon. The heat of his voice sends shivers through my body, landing right in my core.

Great, another night of relieving myself after Josh drops me home.

Can you blame me?

While I might’ve been having a panic attack in my bedroom when Josh was in there with me, later when I was lying in bed, I recalled the way he’d placed me on the mattress, then crouched down.

At the time, it wasn’t erotic, but I remember my gaze landing between his legs. I saw the bulge. Now I don’t know if it was hard or not, but it was big.

Couple that with the way he said goodbye when he left, and my body was thrumming.

He’d checked every inch of my house. Every window, lock, and camera. Then stood in the doorway, giving me instructions and glaring at me in the most intense, almost caring, way.

Then he’d hesitated.

I wasn’t sure what was happening until he simply said, “Goodnight, Cassy.” Then strode to his car, started the engine, watched me, wound down his window, and added, “Close the damn door, woman.”

I had.

Then leaned against it smiling like an idiot. I didn’t want to like Josh, but I did. So lying in my bed later, recalling his denim bulge and the whole big manly thing he had going on, I was aroused.

Did he want to touch me?

I wondered how he’d do it. Would he climb over me and slowly run his hand under my yoga top and pinch one of my needy nipples?

No. Josh would be dominant. Rough even. I bet he’d be the type of man to tear my clothes from my body and slam into me. God knows I’d been wet enough last night if he’d wanted to.

The question is, did I want Josh to fuck me?

I couldn’t answer that.

What I wanted was for Isaac to be captured and put back behind bars where he belonged.

I wanted to attend the Salon of the Year Awards next week and maybe even win. It was unlikely the first time being nominated, but just the nomination itself was a big deal.

I’d worked hard to be acknowledged, and finally it was happening. Attending and networking with my peers and judges was important. Not showing would be an insult, like snubbing the nomination, and I’d likely never see another one again.

Next year, I could win if I played my cards right.

So I was going.

I just hoped that by Tuesday, Isaac was back in custody. If not, Josh and his team would have to do what they did best and keep me safe.

“Good morning,” I say to my team and introduce Josh. “He’s going to keep an eye on things until all of this blows over. It’s probably just for a few days.”

He gives me a quick look and I also see pity.

“Hey, Josh,” Jenny says.

“Hello handsome.” One of the others says as they all drop what they are doing to circle him and shake his hand.

“Morning ladies,” Josh keeps his broody expression as he greets them all.

My god, they’re shameful.

Seriously, I was today years old when I learned that women would forget any threat to their life, or their manager’s, if the man is hot and ripped enough.

Josh certainly is that.

Today he’s wearing a pair of blue jeans, a black, short sleeve t-shirt with a pair of chunky black sneakers, and dark sunglasses.

He looks like an actor off one of those cop TV shows.

I walk to the front desk, hiding the blush on my face as I remember how divine my orgasm was when I snuck my vibrator under the covers.

God, I hope Josh’s surveillance team can’t hear my bedroom. Shit. They probably can, I realize.

My blush burns hotter.

Surely he knows I’m attracted to him. Especially after my outburst by the car.

You can touch me.

God, who says that kind of thing?

I bite my bottom lip and glance over at Josh. His broody gaze meets mine, then drops to my mouth. Then lifts back to mine again and there’s an inferno of desire within them.

Shit.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Josh says, then steps outside.

Dear lord. He must think I’m some sex craved lunatic. It might have been a few months, but I’m not sex craved. I’m not even sure Josh is my type.

Who am I kidding? He’s every woman’s type.

He’s a thirty-something Navy SEAL with a perfectly toned and sculptured body. I might be able to ignore the scorching chemistry between us if he stopped undressing me with his eyes and whispering in my hair.

Maybe I do need to get laid.

Thing is, it’s hard for me to trust men after what happened. I glanced at Isaac once. I smiled once. Politely. Only because he was one of the nicer journalists that was assigned to Sonic Rebel, and I appreciated that he didn’t push as much as the others.

It was a polite smile. That was all.

A smile which turned into a nightmare.

I look up as my client walks in the door and takes my attention off Josh and my past, and I spend the next few hours doing what I do best. Make women feel beautiful.

“I LOVE IT. Thank you, Cassy,” one of my favorite clients, Marie, says. “Can I rebook for another six weeks?”

It’s nearly the end of the day.

I remove her cape after setting the brush down and take in the finished result.

“Let’s make it eight. I think you could do with a little more length. What do you think?” I smile at her in the mirror while tugging on her mid-length brown waves.

She nods eagerly. “Yes. I think Paul is going to propose soon, so growing it longer for, you know, engagement parties and the wedding is a great idea.”

I smile in the neutral way I’ve practiced for years.

Paul isn’t going to propose.

They’ve been together for seven years and he still hasn’t even asked her to move in with him. In fact, I’m fairly sure he’s not loyal either.

“Perfect. Either way, it will look gorgeous,” I say instead.

We walk over to the front desk, and I grab the hair products she uses off my retail shelves. I know my clients and what their hair needs, plus my system keeps track of their purchases, so I usually know when they need another bottle of shampoo or conditioner.

“Oh, I was going to grab one of these. You are amazing,” Marie says as she swipes her card through the machine. When she puts her card away, she asks. “Do you think he will?”

My eyes fly up to hers.

“Paul?” I ask because this is the first time she’s asked me so directly for my opinion.

Josh is several feet away, so I don’t want to draw this out and embarrass her. He looks bored as hell, but I know he’s not. He has a comms piece in his ear and has told me there are more of his team outside. I’ve watched him chat to them throughout the day.

While trying not to watch him.

I caught him watching me...but that’s his job, right? That’s all.

“Yes. Paul. What if he doesn’t? It’s Valentine's Day so...” Marie trails off.

Shit.

“Then he doesn’t. You love him, so that is all that matters, right?” I lie.

“Yes. But I want...hey, maybe Josh can offer a man’s point of view.” She says and I immediately regret introducing them when she arrived.

Fuck.

Josh’s gaze snaps to mine. He clearly heard and is glaring at me like I have to get him out of this mess. When I bite my lip, he clears his throat and readjusts his stance.

“Josh, I need your advice.” Marie takes a few steps toward him, and he looks so uncomfortable with her approach I almost giggle.

“I’m much better at security, ma’am,” Josh replies gruffly.

“You’re a man. I need a male opinion,” Marie says, shifting her bag to her other shoulder.

Did he just groan?

Scarlet turns from her client, hairdryer in her hand, and grins like a banshee. She says, “Wait, I need to hear this.”

I can’t help it. He’s so big and gruff and looks completely out of place, so I lean on the counter, my face in my hands, and grin.

Josh shoots me another dark look, making me smile bigger.

“Paul and I have been together for seven years,” Marie begins. “We’ve talked about getting married, but every birthday, New Year, and Valentine's Day, I expect a proposal and it doesn’t happen.”

Josh rubs the side of his jaw. He glances around the salon, and I do the same. Yup, he has captured the attention of everyone. At least twelve women are eagerly awaiting his answer.

“This is brilliant,” Scarlet hoots.

“Ah,” Josh rubs his jaw again, then curses. “Marie, you need to dump him.”

“What?” she cries.

“Dump his ass.” Josh repeats and I can hear Scarlet snickering.

“But I love him. I just want to know how to get him... you know...to marry me.”

“Date someone else for a month,” Josh replies.

Scarlett roars with laughter. “Good one, Oprah.”

I chuckle quietly, as I don’t want to offend Marie.

“We’re committed, I can’t—”

But Josh is now clearly invested because he interrupts her. “Thing is Marie, Paul isn’t. Seven years and no proposal. Kick him out and—”

“We don’t live together.” She shares in a quiet voice.

Josh tilts his head, then glances quickly at me before returning to Marie. “You want the truth?”

“Yes.” She nods.

“He’s not going to propose. Not now. Not ever. Dump the useless prick and start dating a man who respects you.” Josh says, then his eyes dart outside. Something has distracted him. I immediately straighten as my heart begins to beat rapidly.

Josh looks over at me and shakes his head.

Oh, thank god. It was nothing.

I think.

“Okay, enough from coach Josh.” I say, walking around the counter. “Trust your instincts Marie. Only you can decide what the right thing is to do.”

“Wish I hadn’t asked,” she says, looking downtrodden. “Is he right?”

Josh’s phone rings, so he steps away. Not far—he’s my constant shadow—but it has taken him out of the conversation.

“Maybe. No one can make that decision for you. Update me in eight weeks, okay?” I say and give her a quick hug.

Hashtag hairdresser slash therapist.

The door closes behind her and I wander down to the staff room for a break.

Josh follows.

So does Scarlet.

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