“Good point.” She grabs the remote and pulls up the movie. She doesn’t hit Play. “We need snacks,” she says, setting the remote on the small end table and skipping off toward the kitchen.
“What kind of snacks?” I call over my shoulder.
“You’ll see.” I hear her rustling around in the kitchen.
“You need any help?”
“Nope.” I hear the microwave door shut and the popcorn start popping to life. “Here.” She hands me two bottles of water over my shoulder, then rushes back to the kitchen. In no time, she’s back with a large bowl of popcorn and a package of Oreos. “You can’t watch a movie without popcorn, and these are for our sweet tooth.”
I don’t tell her that I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, well, unless you count her. I’m sure she’s all kinds of sweet. My cock thickens just at the thought of tasting her. Luckily, she’s across the room, turning off the lights so I can adjust myself before she sees. “Setting the mood?” I ask, my voice low and husky.
“Is there any other way to have a movie night?”
“I can’t think of any,” I tell her honestly. What she doesn’t realize is that it has nothing to do with the movie, or the snacks, or even the lighting. It’s all her.
Just Reagan.
She’s what makes this night one to remember.
Chapter 3
Reagan
* * *
“Reagan, dear, how are you?” Mrs. Marks says from the salon chair. I’ve been doing her hair since the day I opened my shop. She and my grandma are good friends.
“I’m good, Mrs. Marks. How about you?” I ask, fastening the cape behind her neck.
“Overdue for this appointment.” She laughs.
“No worries there. I’ll get you all fixed up. You got a hot date this weekend?”
“Oh, you.” She swats her hand through the air, and I can see her blush in the mirror.
“It’s never too late to put yourself out there,” I tell her.
“My Hank was the love of my life. There will never be another like him, so I don’t even bother to look.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“At times, but anyone else would just be a stand-in. That’s not fair to either of us. Besides, I have my friends and my children and grandchildren. What about you? Is there a special man in your life?”
My mind immediately goes to Tyler. It’s been a week since I’ve seen him. Last weekend our movie night at my place felt too intimate. I ended up falling asleep on his shoulder, only to wake a couple of hours later, long after the movie had ended to him wide awake and watching me. You’re beautiful. His words still ring in my ears. I pretended not to hear him, and he left a few minutes later. “No, no one special.” Before she can reply, the chime on the door sounds, and I turn to see who it is. We do walk-ins as we can fit them in. “Welcome to….” I trail off when I see Tyler grinning ear to ear. His black Yankees hat covers his head. “Hey,” I greet him.
“Hi. Got time for a cut?”
Brenda opens her mouth to reply, but the look I give her must shut her up. “Sure, it will be about fifteen minutes. I have to get Mrs. Marks’s curlers in.”
“No rush. We got rained off today.” He turns to look at the dark, gloomy sky. “So I thought it was time to get it done. I’m shaving it. Gets too hot working outside.”
“You and Seth are complete opposites in that regard.” I laugh.
He snorts. “He’s always been the pretty boy out of the bunch.” He’s not wrong. With Seth’s long locks, he definitely is more pretty boy than the rest of them.
“Make yourself at home. You know where the fridge is. I’ll be with you soon,” I tell him, turning my attention back to Mrs. Marks.
“He’s a cutie. Is he yours?” she asks. Of course, she doesn’t whisper or even lower her voice. No, her question rings out in the shop, where I know my employees, their clients, and Tyler all heard her.
“No, he’s not mine. That’s Tyler, Mrs. Marks. He and Ridge are best friends. They work together.”
“Oh.” She nods. “You should change that.” She winks.
I can’t help but laugh at her. She has zero filter. “Tyler and I are friends.”
“What is it they call it these days? Friends with benefits.” She snaps her arthritic fingers. “That’s it. You should try that.”
“What would your children and grandchildren think of you telling me that?” I ask with a laugh.
“Honey, they’d tell me good job because a man like that, you have to snatch them up while you can.”
“Is that what you did?” I ask her, trying to turn the heat off me.
“Of course, my Hank didn’t know what hit him.”
“Come on, you, let’s get you under the dryer.” I wrap the final rod in her hair. Once everything is in place, I help her stand and move to the seat with the dryer. “Fifteen minutes and I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Oh, no rush. I plan to enjoy the show.” She wags her eyebrows, causing me to laugh out loud.
Moving back to my station, I clear the remaining curlers and clean up a bit. Mrs. Marks comes in every two weeks to have her hair “rolled” as she likes to call it. Basically, I put curlers in her short hair and then style it. She says it’s too hard with her arthritis, and I quote, “a woman needs to feel pretty and put together.” Who am I to argue with her? I happen to agree wholeheartedly. Hence, my opening my own salon and choosing cosmetology as a career.
“Tyler, you ready?” I call over to him. He climbs to his feet, and I take the opportunity to drink him in. Tight jeans, lightened by wear in all the right places. Holes in the knees and I know from first-hand experience, they make his ass look incredible. “Going short, huh?” I ask once he’s seated in the chair.
“Yeah, tired of dealing with it.”
“We can do that. How short? Buzzed, bare, what are we talking here?”
“Let’s start with buzzed. You going to shampoo it?” he asks.
“I wasn’t, but I can. Do you want me to?”
“Do you have time? It’s been ages since I’ve had that done. There was this men’s only place when we were working out of town a few years ago. They give you a hot towel for your face and everything.”
“I can wash your hair, but you’re fresh out of luck with the hot towel. Unless you want me to just run one under hot water?”
“Nah, but the wash I’ll take you up on.”
I wrap a cape around his neck. “All right, follow me.” I lead the way to the wash station in the back corner of the salon. There is a wall with a long window that divides it from the others. It’s private. I wanted it that way. I can see out, see if someone comes in but other customers can’t see who’s in the chair. As a client, I always felt like it was awkward to be at the salon all tilted back for the world to watch you getting your hair washed or rinsed. Or even your eyebrows, chin, or whatever waxed. I hated it actually. When I bought this building, I was adamant with my dad and Ridge that my customers have privacy for those sorts of things. Dad insisted I be able to see the door, especially since I was the only one working here at the time. We came up with the window idea, and it’s worked perfectly. Several of my customers have commented on how much they like the privacy factor.
“How’s your week been?” Tyler asks once he’s in the chair. His head is tilted back into the bowl, and while most keep their eyes closed for this part, his are wide open, watching me.
“Good. It’s been busy, but you won’t hear me complaining about that. Business is good. The shelves are great by the way. Thank you again.” I adjust the water temperature and begin to wet his hair.
“You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes still open. Still watching me.
“How about you? Nice weather up until today at least.”
“Yeah, it’s been nice. Ridge is pissed. We needed one more day to wrap up the job we’re on. You know how he is about keeping on schedule.”
“Definitely. Although, I think he’s gotten wor
se since Knox was born. I can only imagine how it will be when the new baby gets here.”