“Yeah, but I get it. We all do. He wants to be home with his family. Keeping the jobs on task helps make that happen. I’d do the same,” he says, finally closing his eyes. “Do they teach you some kind of hand/shampoo magic at school for this?” he asks with a sigh.
“No.” I chuckle. “No secret. Just massaging your head with the tips of my fingers.”
His eyes pop open and I see desire reflected back at me. Is that possible? I mean, I know we’ve been skirting around this attraction. I feel my face heat when I think about what I said. “It sounds… dirty when I play it back in my head.”
“Yeah.” He swallows thickly.
I’m leaning over him, my chest in his face, and I can feel his hot breath against the exposed skin of my scoop neck blouse. Tingles break out across my skin. “Close your eyes,” I whisper. The intense stare of his blue eyes is causing all kinds of things to stir inside me. Things I’ve been fighting months to hide and could easily reveal in a matter of seconds in my salon.
“I don’t want to,” he whispers back.
“Tyler—” I don’t really know what to say. Everything feels different between us. Last weekend things were different, and now today. I don’t know how to explain it, nor do I know what to do with it.
Reaching up, he cradles my face in the palm of his hand. “Reagan—” he starts just as loud laughter reaches us from the other side of the wall.
I blink several times. His hand falls from my face, and instantly I miss the warmth as well as the connection. I pull away as far as I can and condition his hair. We don’t speak, and I refuse to look him in the eye, no matter how much I can feel his eyes boring into me. Grabbing a towel, I run it over his head. “All set,” I croak. I don’t wait for him to reply. I walk out of the room and back to my station. I know he’ll follow me, and I need a minute to compose myself. That minute is mere seconds as his heavy footfalls sound behind me, and he slides back into my chair.
“So, what’s on the agenda for the rest of your rain day?” I ask. I would normally make eye contact in the mirror with my client, but not this time. No, this time I keep my focus on running the towel over his hair, making sure it’s dry before I pull out the clippers. When he doesn’t reply, I’m forced to look up. I find his intense stare on me through the mirror.
“Nothing much, really.”
“No hot date tonight?” Carol asks from her station that is right next to mine.
My head whips around as I give her a glare that tells her she’s stepped out of line. She, nor her client, seem to notice or care. I avoid looking at him while I hold my breath waiting for his reply.
He chuckles. “Nope. No hot date.”
My shoulders relax at his admission. I need to get a grip. He’s not mine. He’s free to date whomever he wants
“You should join us,” Brenda pipes up from her station next to Carol. “We’re all headed to Bottoms Up tonight for drinks. We try to do it a couple of times a month. The more, the merrier.” She smiles.
His eyes find mine in the mirror. “You going?” he asks me.
I nod. “Yeah, it’s become somewhat of a tradition.” He holds my stare. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but he must find it. He gives me a subtle nod.
“I’ll be there,” he says the words, answering her question, but his eyes are on me.
“Great. Seven o’clock,” Brenda informs him.
I ignore the way the butterflies take flight, knowing he’ll be there. Anytime I get to spend with Tyler is a plus in my book. Unless, what if he brings someone, a female someone? What if he flirts with or goes home with one of the girls? The butterflies quickly turn to lead.
“Reagan.” I feel his hand over mine.
Shaking out of my thoughts, I realize I’m standing here staring into space, my hands gripping his shoulders through the cape.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just thinking about some supplies I need to order later.” I quickly cover up my mental freeze freak-out. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze then drops his arm back to rest on the chair. I give him a big “I’m good” smile and get busy cutting his hair and trimming around his neck.
“You’re all set,” I say, dusting off the cape and unfastening it from around his neck.
He stands and runs his hands over his shaved head. My eyes drift to the corded muscles in his arms, arms that are covered in intricate ink. My mouth waters. Men that look like Tyler Justice should be outlawed.
“Thanks, Reagan.” He leans in and kisses my cheek.
My heart skips in my chest. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but the effect is no less intoxicating feeling his lips against my skin, his scent surrounding me. I’m turned on, and it’s only ten in the morning. I have the rest of the day to go. I need a distraction.
“You’re welcome,” I finally remember to reply.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Not happening, sweetheart.”
“You spent your free time helping me with shelving and the cabinet, not to mention my bookshelf. That’s the least I can do.”
“You made me dinner,” he says in his deep husky voice.
“And now I’m giving you a free haircut.”
He opens his mouth to argue when Carol pipes up. “Her tip jar is on the desk. Our names are on them,” she offers.
“Carol,” I hiss at her.
She shrugs and goes back to working on the perm she’s doing. “That’s not necessary.”
“You either take the tip, or drinks are on me tonight.”
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Marks says from under the dryer that apparently has just turned off. “You never say no when a man hands you money.”
“He did me a favor. I’m just repaying it.”
“This.” Tyler holds up a wad of money. “Or drinks are on me tonight. Take your pick.”
“Drinks,” Mrs. Marks says. “It’s always polite if the man pays on a date. I’m old school like that. My Hank always paid even after we were married, and the money came from the same place.”
Tyler smirks. “Drinks it is. I’ll see you tonight at seven.” He turns and walks out of the salon. My eyes trail him the entire time.
“Oh, he’s a cutie,” Mrs. Marks says. “You need to snatch that one up.”
“What was that?” I turn with my hands on my hips, facing Carol and Brenda.
“Nothing,” they say at the same time.
Mrs. Marks takes the seat Tyler was just in. “He even smells yummy,” she says, not caring who hears her.
“I know,” I confess. I get busy removing the curlers from her hair as she lists all the reasons I should, as she calls it, “pursue” Tyler. I don’t tell her I’ve thought the same thing a thousand times over the last couple of months. I don’t tell her that I think about him all the time or that my body seems to have a mind of its own anytime he’s near. Instead, I let her talk. I nod where appropriate, all the while wondering what it would be like to be his.
Chapter 4
Tyler
* * *
Bottoms Up is packed tonight. This is my stomping grounds. Me and the guys have been coming here since we were old enough to drink. Maybe even a time or two before that, but I’ll plead the fifth on that. It’s not very often I walk through these doors alone. There’s usually at least two of us, if not all of us getting together to grab a beer. I started to call Kent and Seth to see if they wanted to come with me, but I didn’t. Hell, I very well might run into them. I know Ridge is at home with his family tonight, and Mark mentioned seeing if he could get Dawn to go out to dinner. I’m not sure what’s going on with the two of them. I’ve not asked him, because turnabout is fair play. I’m not prepared to answer questions about Reagan and how I feel about her.
Don’t get me wrong. I know exactly how I feel about her. I’m just not sure how to handle it. I don’t exactly hide it, and if Ridge or the guys were to a
sk me, I’d tell them. Straight up, no lies. But until that time comes, I’ll continue to attempt to fly under the radar. Not poking and prodding about their relationships is a good way to do that.
Scanning the room, I find her immediately. Her long hair is pulled up in a ponytail exposing her long slender neck. A neck which I’ve fantasized about many times. She’s wearing a tank top and a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts. She’s just Reagan, no pretenses. There is nothing fake about her, which makes me even more attracted to her.
Honest beauty.
I don’t stop at the bar to get a drink. I don’t even acknowledge people I know, people I’ve grown up with, have known for years. No, all I see is her. I need to get to her, let her know I’m here. Sit as close to her as I can without giving myself away. Soak up as much Reagan time as I can. I’m like a fucking sponge when it comes to her.
“Hey,” I say, leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ear. It’s loud in here. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. It has nothing to do with being close to her or getting a dose of her fruity scent. One I can’t seem to put my finger on. I think it’s all the products she uses at her salon. Whatever it is, it’s uniquely Reagan.
“You made it,” she says, turning to look at me.
I pull the empty seat beside her out and make it my own. I don’t plan on leaving her side all night. “You started without me, I see,” I tease, pointing to the mixed drink sitting in front of her.
“We’ve only been here maybe five minutes.” She points across the table. “Carol ordered us all sex on the beach.”
Just hearing the word sex leave her lips has my cock rising to the occasion. Thankfully, the table covers my lap. “I see that.” Her smile is genuine, as if she’s really happy to see me. I think she is; in fact, I’m sure of it. We’ve been dancing around this attraction for months. One of us has to make a move, but I need to talk to Ridge before I do. It’s the right thing to do.
“You want some?” she asks.