seems pretty normal.” I smile, thinking of the forced-labor sugar yesterday.
“Hmm. What does he look like?”
I try not to flinch as Lenora exfoliates my heels. My feet are way too ticklish. “Who’s that guy you like from Magic Mike ?”
“Adam Rodriguez?” His voice raises an octave. “Are we talking Tito?”
I know it’s Tito, but I couldn’t resist. “Yes, but with less chin and a tighter ass.”
“And you aren’t naked in his bed because…?”
“Because I’ve only met him twice. And we were at work yesterday—not the best place for a torrid affair, though his hands made sweet, sweet love to my shoulders for a couple of minutes.”
“And you weren’t naked on his massage table because…?”
“Oh, to live the way you do.”
He mixes more powder into the cream. “If I were one of the Golden Girls, I’d be Blanche Devereaux.”
“That’s for sure.”
“I am double-jointed,” he says with a Southern accent.
“Yes, but shoulder pads aren’t your thing.”
“Maybe not. But I was thinking of working more sequins into my wardrobe.”
“You were not.” I snort. “Though the lack of flash in men’s clothing is a little unfair.”
“It’s getting better, what with the hipsters.” He mixes things while Lenora blazes through the rest of my pedi.
“You done over there?”
“Yup, we’re finished,” Lenora answers him.
Blue polish and small pink-and-white flowers improve the nails. “Wow, nice work!”
Lenora smiles. “Thanks.”
I walk carefully over to Pete and sit in the chair.
He clips a smock over me. “Your coworkers sound terrible. They made you work all day today, extending both of our days—”
“I’m sorry and I so appreciate you opening the salon after hours just for our spa day.”
“—and they turned Jack into your errand boy.” He tactfully doesn’t bring up the specifics of my dad’s situation in front of Lenora. “And why?”
“In case anyone phoned.” Annoyance washes over me.
He raises an eyebrow. “And how many people called?”
“One. And it was a wrong number.”
“Yeah. Be careful with the hot masseuse. Even if he’s not one of them, that kind of behavior may be contagious. Now.” He flips my hair. “What did we have in mind?”
I take a breath and decide to go for it. “I’m going to make your wish come true. You get to do whatever you want.” His eyes get big, and I feel the need to add a qualifier. “No Chelsea shave—nothing that involves shaving my head.”
He nods, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “I’m going to add some color. And we’re going to go a bit shorter. And more dramatic.”
“No spoilers. Just do it before common sense sinks in.”
Pete flaps his hands. “Honey, I’m going to make you fabulous.”
“Are you saying I’m not already?”
He scrunches his face. “You’ve always been adorable. Now, I am going to make you irresistible. Mr. Massage won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
Jack’s hands flash through my mind, but I suppress the image. He’s even more off-limits than Blake, despite the “no dating coworkers” rule. Jack texted me earlier to let me know he’d picked up Dad’s prescription and delivered it. I definitely owe him one. “Sounds great.”
Pete stirs the batch of color and begins applying foils. I close my eyes and wait blind, not wanting to see anything except for the reveal.
We rinse and blow-dry and let things set, and nearly an hour later, he spins me around to check myself out in the mirror.
He’s only taken a few inches off, but I look so different.
The way my hair frames my face makes my eyes look huge and my cheekbones stand out. I look like someone with style. I’m a bit surprised to realize that is something I’ve let slip during these past few months. My hair feels ultra-silky when I run my hands through it. It just hits the tops of my shoulders, and some razored layers give body and take it into sexily tousled territory instead of
“Hmm. What does he look like?”
I try not to flinch as Lenora exfoliates my heels. My feet are way too ticklish. “Who’s that guy you like from Magic Mike ?”
“Adam Rodriguez?” His voice raises an octave. “Are we talking Tito?”
I know it’s Tito, but I couldn’t resist. “Yes, but with less chin and a tighter ass.”
“And you aren’t naked in his bed because…?”
“Because I’ve only met him twice. And we were at work yesterday—not the best place for a torrid affair, though his hands made sweet, sweet love to my shoulders for a couple of minutes.”
“And you weren’t naked on his massage table because…?”
“Oh, to live the way you do.”
He mixes more powder into the cream. “If I were one of the Golden Girls, I’d be Blanche Devereaux.”
“That’s for sure.”
“I am double-jointed,” he says with a Southern accent.
“Yes, but shoulder pads aren’t your thing.”
“Maybe not. But I was thinking of working more sequins into my wardrobe.”
“You were not.” I snort. “Though the lack of flash in men’s clothing is a little unfair.”
“It’s getting better, what with the hipsters.” He mixes things while Lenora blazes through the rest of my pedi.
“You done over there?”
“Yup, we’re finished,” Lenora answers him.
Blue polish and small pink-and-white flowers improve the nails. “Wow, nice work!”
Lenora smiles. “Thanks.”
I walk carefully over to Pete and sit in the chair.
He clips a smock over me. “Your coworkers sound terrible. They made you work all day today, extending both of our days—”
“I’m sorry and I so appreciate you opening the salon after hours just for our spa day.”
“—and they turned Jack into your errand boy.” He tactfully doesn’t bring up the specifics of my dad’s situation in front of Lenora. “And why?”
“In case anyone phoned.” Annoyance washes over me.
He raises an eyebrow. “And how many people called?”
“One. And it was a wrong number.”
“Yeah. Be careful with the hot masseuse. Even if he’s not one of them, that kind of behavior may be contagious. Now.” He flips my hair. “What did we have in mind?”
I take a breath and decide to go for it. “I’m going to make your wish come true. You get to do whatever you want.” His eyes get big, and I feel the need to add a qualifier. “No Chelsea shave—nothing that involves shaving my head.”
He nods, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “I’m going to add some color. And we’re going to go a bit shorter. And more dramatic.”
“No spoilers. Just do it before common sense sinks in.”
Pete flaps his hands. “Honey, I’m going to make you fabulous.”
“Are you saying I’m not already?”
He scrunches his face. “You’ve always been adorable. Now, I am going to make you irresistible. Mr. Massage won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
Jack’s hands flash through my mind, but I suppress the image. He’s even more off-limits than Blake, despite the “no dating coworkers” rule. Jack texted me earlier to let me know he’d picked up Dad’s prescription and delivered it. I definitely owe him one. “Sounds great.”
Pete stirs the batch of color and begins applying foils. I close my eyes and wait blind, not wanting to see anything except for the reveal.
We rinse and blow-dry and let things set, and nearly an hour later, he spins me around to check myself out in the mirror.
He’s only taken a few inches off, but I look so different.
The way my hair frames my face makes my eyes look huge and my cheekbones stand out. I look like someone with style. I’m a bit surprised to realize that is something I’ve let slip during these past few months. My hair feels ultra-silky when I run my hands through it. It just hits the tops of my shoulders, and some razored layers give body and take it into sexily tousled territory instead of
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