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“Of course I do.”
He said that with such self-assurance, I decided not to argue. I didn’t think Preston would hurt me in public—he was too concerned with his outward appearance and reputation for that. I didn’t need Zachary to follow me around like a bodyguard, but I also knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t last long. He was too restless to hang out at my salon all day.
I texted Stacey to let her know I’d be in soon, then spent a few minutes touching up my makeup. I was relieved to see the redness in my cheek was almost gone. The entire situation felt so surreal. Had it really happened? Had a man actually hit me?
It was a lot to process, but I still wanted to go to work. Like I’d told Zachary, I didn’t want Preston to hurt me more than he already had. Going to work—facing the world and my responsibilities—felt like an act of defiance. It felt right.
And it helped to know Zachary would be there, even if he only stayed for a little while.
We left together and drove downtown. Zachary got a text from Garrett that made him scowl. They hadn’t located Preston yet. I wondered if he’d gone back to Seattle. Did he assume I’d call the police and leave town as a precaution? It was hard to say.
When we got to my salon, Stacey looked up from the front desk with a smile.
“Hi,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s a long story.”
Zachary came in behind me and placed his hand on the small of my back. Stacey’s eyebrows drew together.
“A really long story.” My eyes flicked to my first client of the day, sitting in the waiting area. I didn’t want the incident with Preston to become the next topic of the Tilikum gossip line. “I’ll fill you in later.”
She looked between me and Zachary, clearly noting not only his presence, but his slightly possessive touch.
Girlfriend. He’d called me his new girlfriend.
In the wake of what had happened with Preston, how could I be giddy over something Zachary had said? It seemed absurd. But there I was, hesitating in the lobby of my salon, reeling with the implications of Zachary’s words.
You can call me your boyfriend anytime. I’m not afraid of commitment.
Who was this man and what had he done with the carefree Zachary Haven I’d thought I knew?
I took a quick breath to clear my head and greeted my client. “Hi, I’ll be right with you.”
She glanced up from her magazine. “Take your time. I’m early anyway.”
I went to the back office to take off my coat and put my purse on my desk. Zachary stepped in behind me, put his hands on my hips, and kissed my neck.
“Sorry,” he murmured low into my ear. “I know you have to work. I just really like kissing you.”
I was quickly learning that I liked being kissed by him. I tilted my head and he moved my hair aside so he could pepper my neck with a few more kisses. My body lit up at the heat of his lips on my skin. If he didn’t stop soon, I was going to have a very hard time focusing on my client.
After one last kiss, he let go. I turned around and he grinned at me, like he wouldn’t have been happier anywhere else.
“I need to go get started.”
“Go do your thing, gorgeous. I won’t get in the way.”
True to his word, he didn’t. And he didn’t leave, either. I’d expected him to get bored within the first hour and decide he didn’t need to stay all day. He could go do something else and stop by, or even just call, to check on me.
But he didn’t go anywhere.
Not only did he stay, he chatted with my clients while they waited. He listened intently while Sarah Jean Simpson told him all about her arthritis, and gushed over photos of Linda Mayfair’s grandkids. He discussed the latest in the celebrity gossip magazines and even helped Mildred Winnaker decide on a new hairstyle.
A little after one, Theo popped in with chicken soup and roast turkey sandwiches—my favorite—from the Copper Kettle. Apparently Zachary had ordered lunch and recruited his brother to pick it up. I ate a little between clients, but it wasn’t until an hour or so later that I got a long enough break to tell Stacey what had happened with Preston.
She was horrified, of course, but seemed particularly curious about Zachary’s presence in the salon.
I glanced at him where he sat, sprawled on a velvet chaise with a magazine.
