Page 28 of That Guy


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“Trust me, Miss Sims. You’ll love it.”

Oh. And everyone thinks I’m a whore.

“I won’t love it enough to do it again. Trust that.” I tighten my robe and follow her out of the room toward the next torture chamber. If they weren’t so uptight about cell phones, I’d text Jake and tell him how much I hate him right now. And demand that he kisses every scarred inch of my hairless body until it feels better.

I’d love to think Jake booked this waxing session for me because he plans to fuck me crazy and prefers his woman hairless. But I was informed by him before I left the house that, other than hair and makeup, he didn’t know what all they had in store for me today. Miss Sims had made the appointments herself. I was simply taking her place.

Miss Sims is a friggin’ masochist.

We walk into a hair salon that is all white walls and huge mirrors. And, thank you, Lord, no flute music. There are no other clients in the room. Actually, I haven’t seen a single soul other than the people who work here. Did Miss Sims rent out the entire spa?

“Look at this face!” I don’t know who this guy with the flipped hair and brilliant smile strutting toward me is, but I like him.

His hands move to my face. Slow. Cautious. Like I’m some elusive piece of art and he fears his mere touch might damage me. “Finally, a challenge.”

“Hey!” I slap his hands away. “Don’t be a dick.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “No, my sweet southern peach, I meant it as a compliment.” His smile is warm and his eyes sparkle with praise as he drinks in all of my features. “Fixing ugly is what I do. But it will be a true test of my skill to make you any more beautiful than you already are.”

Oh.

Well since he said it like that.

“Come. Have a seat.” He waves me over to a chair that faces a mirror, then makes a big show of flapping the cape before covering me with it. “My name is David Michael. Jake Swagger is a personal friend of mine.” I lift a brow at him. He dismisses the look with a wave of his hand. “Not in a sexual way, unfortunately. But his loss.”

“Definitely his loss.”

“He told me about you, Penelope Hart.” Surprised, I look up at him, but he’s studying my hair. “You’re quite the clever girl. But I have to ask, did you mean for things to go this far?”

His eyes meet mine and I shake my head. “I just wanted to escape a crazed man and his dog.”

Again, he throws his head back and laughs from his gut. I like how he expresses himself without reserve. It’s infectious—his disregard for everything that isn’t what he’s feeling. And I find myself laughing with him.

When he settles into a quiet smile, he locks eyes with me in the mirror. “And now you’re Cinderella going to the ball.”

“I guess I am.”

“Well then, let’s not waste any more time. Jake wants you to fit in so you don’t draw any attention. Which means he wants me to make you look like all of them.”

“All of them?”

“The Miss Sims of Chicago. The plastics. The fakes.”

“Ahh. I see.”

“Of course I agreed because Jake is not just my friend, but a client. One who tips well enough to cover my rent for the entire month.”

I nod. “I understand.”

“But…” He shoots me a mischievous look. “Jake’s not here. To hell with what he said. You deserve to stand out.”

The idea of standing out, walking into a room like some Cinderella, stopping the show and having all eyes turn on me has my stomach knotting with nerves. “You know, I really don’t mind blending in. But maybe we could take an inch off these nails?”

He snaps his fingers and a woman appears and takes my hand in hers to study my nails. Then she pulls a file from her smock and starts filing away. This isn’t so bad…

I watch her work for a few moments, then David Michael’s hands squeeze my shoulders. When he has my attention, he leans down to make his head level with mine as we both stare at me in the mirror.

“Be honest with yourself, gorgeous. You’re not the kind of girl who blends in. You’re most definitely not Miss Sims. You’re not some Disney Princess, either, are you? So, Penelope Hart, tell me the truth. Who do you want to be tonight?” His voice drops to a whisper. “What kind of girl is it going to take to bring Jake Swagger to his knees?”

Jake.

On his knees.

I whimper a little at the thought.

There’s only one girl who can bend a man like Jake Swagger.

“That girl.”Chapter NineMy Instagram be like:#donthatemecauseyouaintme

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