Chapter 2
IVY
The salon was just about ready to open for the morning by the time I finished my second latte. I let out a low hum of appreciation as I enjoyed the last sip. Across the room, Lorna was laughing at something our receptionist said.
The sound tugged a smile out of me before I even realized it.
My former roommate was happier than she’d ever been, and it was all due to the football coach she’d fallen head over heels for when I’d dragged her out to celebrate her twenty-first birthday.
Now she was married, pregnant, and the proud owner of a new salon in Long Island.
My life had also taken a turn for the better when her husband offered me a ridiculous amount of money to help Lorna with The Color Loft.
Not that she was content to leave my happiness to my paycheck.
She wanted me to have what she’d found with Cole…
which was why she kept bugging me about the wide receiver she insisted was into me.
Even though I hadn’t heard a word from him since we met a few days ago.
As though she’d read my mind, Lorna teased, “He text you yet?”
I groaned but didn’t bother to try to act as though I didn’t know exactly who she was talking about. “The guy who probably forgot I existed the second he left and doesn’t even have my phone number? No.”
“You are so wrong.” Lorna rolled her eyes. “And I wasn’t the only one who saw how Saxon looked at you. Cole did, too.”
My cheeks heated. “He was just being polite to his coach’s wife’s best friend and probably doesn’t even remember my name by now.”
She arched a brow. “Go ahead and keep pretending that man isn’t going to try to sweep you off your feet. You’ll see how right I am soon enough.”
I ignored her and focused on double-checking the supplies at my station. Saxon Powell was grumpy, gorgeous, and out of my league. Whatever that look had been, it wasn’t what Lorna and Cole thought.
I wasn’t paying too close attention when the phone at the front desk started ringing.
Missy answered, and I tuned out the low murmur of her voice while I grabbed my tablet to go over my list of appointments for the day.
It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later when she called my name that I looked up again.
“I squeezed a client into your schedule just after lunch.”
“One of my regulars?” I asked.
Missy shook her head with a grin. “A Nighthawks player asking for a same-day appointment. Says he needs a media-day cleanup.”
Lorna’s head lifted, her eyes sparkling. “Really?”
Missy nodded. “And he specifically requested Ivy.”
Lorna leaned over Missy’s shoulder, a delighted smile spreading across her face. “Huh. Saxon Powell. Interesting.”
I gave her a look. “Don’t even start.”
“Start what?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Missy cut in, “I hope it’s okay that I shortened your lunch break.”
“It’s fine,” I reassured her. “I’d prefer to take less time to eat than turn away a customer.”
She nodded. “Gotcha.”
Lorna pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s going to be so hard to eat a sandwich right before a gorgeous football player stares at you for thirty minutes. I don’t know how you’ll survive.”
I crouched to straighten my combs, using the motion to hide my flaming cheeks. “He probably just thought about the salon because Cole has been talking it up.”
“My husband is awesome like that,” Lorna quickly agreed, her smile widening. “But that doesn’t explain why Saxon asked for you.”
I busied myself checking the product display in the waiting area…even though I’d just inventoried it a few days ago. “Whatever.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her tone was pure smug amusement, and I refused to take the bait. But there was no denying my stomach did a little nervous flip because Saxon Powell was coming here. To my chair.
And if he was anything like I remembered—tall, quiet, and intense—I was in serious trouble.
Luckily, my morning schedule was jam-packed, so I didn’t have time to worry about Saxon’s appointment. The hours passed in a blur of trims, blowouts, and color touch-ups, but every time the bell over the door jingled, my stomach gave a stupid little jump.
While I ate my sandwich in the back, I’d half convinced myself that Saxon probably wasn’t coming after all. That his schedule changed. Or something.
Then the bell chimed again just as I was leaving my office in the back. Missy called out a bright, “Welcome!”
Every hair on my arms stood, as though a current ran through my body.
I looked up and spotted Saxon in the doorway.
His chiseled jaw was clean-shaven, and his full lips were too sinfully kissable for my own good.
He pulled off his cap, and I took in how his light-brown hair was cut shorter on the sides and just long enough on top to run my fingers through.
When he lifted his head, I caught the glint of his intense hazel eyes scanning the room before they locked on me.
The air left my lungs in one long exhale.
He was confident in a way that came from already having the world at your feet. A man who’d been places, done things, and didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. Which only made him seem even more out of my league. I was only twenty-one and still trying to make a name for myself.
My pulse tripped over itself when he headed straight for my station like he’d been here a hundred times.
“Hey.” His greeting was low and rough, sending a thrill of awareness through my body.
“Hi,” I managed, forcing what I hoped was a professional smile. “You made it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a way that was both messy and unfairly hot. “Thanks for making time for me.”
“No problem.” I gestured toward the chair, thankful my hands weren’t shaking. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
He did, his gaze finding mine in the mirror. The quiet between us stretched, thick with only the sound of the blow-dryers behind us.
“So…” I cleared my throat and reached for my comb. “Just a cleanup for media day?”
“Yeah, PR stuff.” His eyes didn’t leave my reflection. “Figured I should look decent if they’re gonna point a camera at me.”
I laughed a little too quickly. “You look good to me.”
His lips twitched. “Thanks.”
I asked him a few questions about his cut before getting started. It was just a trim, something I could practically do with my eyes closed. But being acutely aware of his lingering stare made it hard to focus.
To distract myself from the butterflies swirling in my belly, I prattled on about anything and everything. How long The Color Loft had been open. My commute into work on the train this morning. The new shampoo and conditioner we just started to carry.
“You always this talkative when you work?”
“Only when I’m nervous,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He arched his brow. “You nervous, sunshine?”
Heat rushed to my face. “Nope. Definitely not.”
He hummed like he didn’t believe me, and I pretended to focus on trimming around his ears while every nerve in my body buzzed.
Every time our eyes met in the mirror, my chest tightened just a little more.
So I kept filling the silence until I finished. Brushing the stray hairs off his neck, I couldn’t miss the way he was watching me. His jaw clenched when my fingers grazed his skin, and I swore I felt the tension hum through both of us.
“All done.” My voice came out softer than I intended. “You’re good to go.”
He stood slowly, turning toward me instead of the mirror. “Thanks, Ivy.”
The way he said my name made my breath hitch.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered.
He lingered for half a second before murmuring, “See you soon.”
Then he walked over to Missy to pay for his cut. I caught the low murmur of his voice as he told her to use the change for my tip. He shot me another intense look before the bell over the door jingled in his wake.
I stood there staring at the empty chair until Lorna’s voice broke through the noise of dryers and chatter. “Still think it’s a coincidence that he came here for a cut he didn’t really need?”
I groaned. “Don’t you have a client?”
“Yeah.” She smirked. “But watching you blush over a football player is way more entertaining.”
I rolled my eyes, trying—and failing—to bite back a smile, all while hoping I really would see Saxon again soon.