“All set?” Jill asks, raising a brow.
“Yup,” I say, drumming my nails along the glass. Once I have my wits again, I’ll send her a big novel of a text to sing her and Emma’s praises.
I wait, forcing myself to cool down while she clicks a few buttons and then some. Gray appears at some point, and Emma immediately pulls him off to the side. He bends to meet her, and she fluffs his hair, giggling at whatever they’re talking about. I busy myself by rifling through my bags, doing my best to ignore them. Finally, Jill clears her throat and I turn back to her.
“Hey, I threw some things in there for you, too,” she says, handing me the receipt to sign.
“Thanks,” I say, picking up a pen to sign. I’m so flustered that I don’t even see the charge on my credit card until we’re back at my place, but by then it’s too late.
Yeah, I think looking at him in my living room,it’s way too late.
I’m sweating bullets.
Despite the house being only moderately warm for the weather. I’m sticky in my shirt and shorts, which I changed into when we got home. That was after I gagged at the six-hundred dollars I’d just spent on my credit card. At least I got a ‘family and friends’ discount to offset the total. Not by much, but it was better than nothing.
Taking care of a vampire was way more work than I was expecting. Especially when he asked me to cut and color his hair, per Emma’s instructions. She knew I could do it, too, since I have my cosmetology license. This is her payback for earlier, I know it.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask again, my mouth dry. The smell of the bleach on the makeshift workstation is starting to get to me.
“Positive.” He leans back, scarlet eyes finding my face. “Emma insisted.”
“And you’re just going to take her at her word?”
“Why not?” He shrugs, the muscles in his shoulders movingwith him. His button up is bunched around his elbows, but it’s fully open otherwise—which means bare-chested, which means half-naked in one of my granny’s old kitchen chairs. The exception to this is the set of chains still around his neck. Still, the visual is giving me heart palpitations. I’m trying extra hard not to scope out the goods, but it’s more difficult than I anticipated. I thought the chemical smell of the bleach would keep me focused, but I think it’s making things worse.
“Just out of curiosity,” I begin, picking up my shears, “what did she say to convince you?”
“She said that a new wardrobe requires a new look, and that you would know what to do with me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and curse Emma. Definitely payback.
“Besides,” he says, sitting back up, eyes forward, “new century, new me. I think that requires a full change, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I guess I can’t argue with that.” But just as I attempt the first cut, I pull back. “Wait, won’t your hair just grow back?”
I remember watchingInterview With A Vampire, recalling that Claudia’s hair grew back after she chopped it all off in a rage.
“No, it won’t. So don’t make a mistake,” he says with an edge of warning. I can’t tell if he’s being serious or joking.
“Right, no pressure.” More sweat drips down my back. Dax has been at the mercy of my clippers before, and Emma, too, but I really only cut my hair on occasion. I don’t mind messing mine up, but his? Different story.
Gray waves me off dismissively. “Get on with it. We haven’t got all night.”
I suck in a deep breath, and with the little reference I pulled up on my phone, I get to work. At first, I’m nervous to do too much damage, but once I get into a rhythm, I feel my confidence climb. As strips of hair fall to the floor around my feet, I frownat the loss. Clipping his hair away feels like a crime. It’s thick and soft, with a beautiful shine. It wasn’t like this the night we met. In fact, it was stringy and clotted with dust, dirt, and blood. Who knew he would have such a killer head of hair under all that grime.
Shifting from shears to clippers, I keep going until I’m satisfied. Once done, I reach for the mirror on my workstation and pause. “Dumb question.”
“What is it?”
“Can you see your reflection?”
Gray gives a short laugh and shakes his head. “Yes, I can see my reflection.”
“Good to know.” I circle the chair and hold out the mirror. “I’m not done yet. I just wanted to get your opinion.”
Nothing in his expression changes as he sees himself, at least, not at first. He leans forward and assesses, turning his head to the left and then the right. He tips his jaw up at the chin, then looks at me from under long black lashes. It’s then I can see the approval, the satisfaction glimmering in those red eyes of his.
“I like it.”
