50. Kendra
Kendra
Antonio spins me around the small reception area at the front of the Dip and Dye salon and then yanks me into a tight hug.
“It hasn’t been the same around here since you’ve been gone!” he exclaims.
“I wasn’t away so long, was I?” I ask, enjoying his fussing.
“One day is too long as far as I’m concerned, and you, my sweet Kendra, were out for weeks,” he says with a frown, scanning my body like he is looking for any lingering injuries.
“I missed you.” I lean in for another hug. “I hope Peg didn’t give you too much trouble.” One of my regulars, a feisty old lady in her late eighties, only lets me do her hair and set her curls weekly.
“Oh shit, it was not easy to convince her to let anyone else help her! But”—Antonio sighs—“once she heard about why you were gone, all that was left was concern for you, she was much more compliant afterward, and she let me do her hair.”
As I walk to my station I see the pink of my cheeks reflecting back in all the mirrors. “I guess everyone knows by now, huh?”
“Fox Grove loves a bit of gossip, you know that, honey. And what happened to you? That was awful. You’re loved by so many people here, and I’ve had a constant flow of customers, old and new, stopping in just wanting to know how you are doing.” Antonio sits in my chair and rubs my arm soothingly.
“Really? I guess it happened and I just . . . I don’t know, felt like nobody would care besides the handful of people that are close to me.”
“Kendra, you are a giant spark of sunshine and happiness in this community. So, when someone dims that sparkle, when you aren’t here or bouncing about town shining, we all notice.” He smiles at me kindly as I swipe a tear from the corner of my eye.
“You are the best.” I kiss his cheek.
“That’s why you can never leave me!” His smile blooms as the door chimes with the two other stylists coming in for the day, squealing in excitement to see me back at work.
“No, I don’t have an appointment,” a deep, familiar voice floats back to me as I am finishing up Mrs. Wilson’s hair. She’s another one of my regulars and insisted on not getting anything done until I was fully healed and back to work.
Eli is standing at the reception desk, Wren in his arms. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt even though it’s chilly out today and dark jeans that hug his muscular legs perfectly.
There’s a rip in the left knee and a paint stain on the back pocket—wear and tear that is completely authentic.
Completely hot. He also has a diaper bag slung over his shoulder and a FGFD baseball hat on . . . backward.
He’s trying to fucking kill me.
“You’re drooling, dear.” Mrs. Wilson chuckles.
“I am not.” I poke her lightly with my finger, making her laugh harder and drawing Eli’s attention straight back to us.
His eyes flare as he takes in my outfit from head to toe—a tight black T-shirt that mirrors his own paired with my favorite cream, black, and grey plaid, high-waisted mini skirt; black sheer tights underneath; and comfortable flats to wear for working on my feet for the day.
It’s what I want to wear for fall to feel confident, girly, and powerful.
My first day back at the salon seemed like the perfect time to break it out.
I was happy I asked Sutton and Jess to go over to the cabin for me and get a few more specific things that I wanted for workdays and not just resting and recouping at Eli’s.
Eli grins, dimple popping, and I do my best to ignore him.
“She’s busy, but I’m happy to take care of you,” I hear Candace say. “I’m Candace, but you can call me Candi.”
Fuck no.
“Alright, Mrs. Wilson, you are all done!” I whip off her cape and scoot her from my chair.
“I thought we were going to do curls after my blow-dry? I was planning on telling you all about my grandson. He’s single and very handsome, Kendra.” Eli raises an eyebrow at her as we make our way to the front.
“That’s so nice of you, maybe next time.
Your curls will be on the house, we don’t want to do any more heat on your hair today, okay?
” I lie through my clenched teeth about entertaining the conversation about her grandson.
I guide her past Eli and Wren to the desk so our intern, Tasha, can check her out and help her with the payment.
“I’m ready for you, Eli,” Candace says, and I shoot her a death glare, which makes Eli snort as he steps up next to me and slips a possessive, strong hand around my waist.
“Thanks, Kimmy, but I’m here for Kendra. Only my woman gets to cut my hair.” Then he bends down and gives me a quick kiss, but one that makes his point clear. Mine.
“It’s Candi,” I hear Candace grumble under her breath as she stomps away.
Out of all the people that work here, she’s the one I like least. She loves attention, obviously, and when she doesn’t get it the way she thinks is deserved, she acts like a child that didn’t get the toy they wanted .
. . and it was very obvious that she wanted to play with Eli.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Eli says, untangling my hair from Wren’s grasp that she snagged when he bent down to kiss me. “We thought that we would come see you on your first day back, plus”—he pulls off his hat, revealing his messy dark locks that curl around his ears—“I think I’m overdue for a trim.”
His dimple is back and making my panties damp. Damnit.
“Ah, okay. But I have to clean up my station first.” I gesture to the hair scattered around the base of my black and chrome chair.
“No rush, we’ll be up here.” Eli sits in one of the chairs by the front windows, smiling at Wren and talking to her while he waits. All the women’s eyes in the salon trail his every movement.
Once I’m ready, Antonio materializes like some kind of magician.
“Come see Uncle Tony! We don’t want itchy hair to get all over you, right?” He reaches his hands out to Wren who instantly goes to him, shocking Eli.
“It’s fine,” I say to Eli. “Antonio is literally the best babysitter ever. He has a big Italian family and eight siblings, and they all have like two to five kids. Their family calls him first whenever they need help.”
Wren squishes Antonio’s face in her chubby hands and he laughs, eyes glimmering with adoration and joy that only comes from truly enjoying being with children.
Eli relaxes back in my chair and says with a wink, “Okay . . . Have your way with me, sweetheart.”
I shouldn’t let my mind immediately go to a dirty place.
Shouldn’t want to touch him like we are the only people here when we absolutely are not.
I want to run my hands through his hair and tug on it instead of cut it.
I’m a hair stylist, it’s my job for fuck’s sake.
I am a professional—always. But right now I can’t stop thinking about it.
My hands, his hair, his body, my body, and how good it would feel to let go.
Eli clears his throat and our eyes lock in the mirror. The heat I find in his gaze makes me think he knows exactly where my mind is and he is right there with me.
At the end of the most challenging haircut of my career, Eli is somehow even more handsome.
Damn, I do good work.
I bite my lip, trying not to look at him as I clean up his hair clippings. Antonio passes Wren back over to Eli with a promise to play with her for us every time he comes in for a haircut, which thrills Eli.
“Now that you made me presentable again, I’d like to take you out on a date,” Eli says.
I was bending over sweeping when he said that, and the shock of his words makes me smack my head on the base of the salon chair.
“Ouch, fuck. Ahh. Sorry, Wren, frick, frack, faaa—that hurt.” I stand up.
“Are you okay?” Eli steps up next to me and gently rubs the small lump on my head that’s forming, then tenderly plants a kiss on it. “I’m so sorry. That was my fault.”
“It’s fine, I just was . . . surprised.” I put all my cleaning supplies away and go wash my hands.
When I make my way back to him Wren is reaching for me, and I take her. She nuzzles into my neck and I close my eyes, breathing her in. I missed her all day. I missed him all day too.
“So, can I take you on that date?” Eli asks again, biting his lip nervously.
Rubbing Wren’s back in circles as I sway back and forth, I ask, “Is this an official date or a secret date?”
He makes a rumbling, annoyed sound deep in his chest. “Official, shout-it-from-the-mountaintops date.”
“Hmmm, what do you think all your followers on your little jump rope, thirst trap page will say? They all really are hoping for a shot.” I poke, push, trying my best to ruffle his immaculate feathers.
He grins. Wide.
Leaning down, totally unruffled, Eli says, “Have you been watching my videos, sweetheart? I didn’t know you even knew about my little jump rope videos.”
Shit.
Abort mission.
Jump ship.
Help.
Fuck.
“Umm, Lainey must have shown me,” I lie, blushing.
“Yeah, I’m sure Rem’s wife spends all her free time watching me jump rope, lift weights, post thirst traps, as you say. We should really confront Rem about this. I think we have a big problem.” Eli tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and I shiver.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I have seen them a couple times.”
“What’s your username?”
“I don’t remember.” I kiss the top of Wren’s sleeping head.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I will let all those insignificant strangers on the internet know that I am a happily taken man. And frankly”—he leans in to whisper in my ear so Wren can’t hear even though she’s softly snoring now—“I don’t give a flying fuck what they think.”
“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you,” I say, making Eli whoop with joy, startling Wren awake.
“Oops, sorry, peanut.” Eli blushes.