His mouth opened, and a question started to form. Thinking better of it, he shook his head. He repeated this two more times.
“We have to go,” he finally said, holding my gaze in the mirror so intensely I had to look away. “This weather is serious.”
“So go. Save yourself.” I lined up the next bit of hair. It took some sawing to cut through. A tiny twinge of guilt lanced me as I acknowledged that this was a predicament for Owen. I could go back without a fight, but it wasn’t just me. It was the statue too. We deserved better than this. He didn’t have a life of unending anonymity sprawling in front of him.
Also, he had really nice hair.
“I feel you wincing again,” I said.
“You’re just … are those scissors meant for hair?” His face was contorted in pain.
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t.
“Bug bomb,” he said, snapping his fingers as he paced the short spaces in front of the stalls. The floor shook with every step, jostling my unsteady fingers.
“What?” I sighed, setting down the crap scissors to turn to him, hand cocked on my hip. “Stop pacing.”
He stopped.
“A scheduled bug guy is coming. The whole building is getting fumigated. We gotta go.”
Gosh, he was precious when he was full of shit. “It’s the dead of winter. Find me a single bug.”
“There are bugs in the winter,” he said flatly.
“It’s the holiday, and I can promise you Hank at Bug Busters is not working. Nice try, though. Much better name for a business.”
“We really love alliteration in this town.”
“I’m not leaving, Owen.” My legs widened, and I set my stance. “There’s nothing you can do.”
He scrubbed at his face, mumbling something about jobs and women and Benny Jr. When his hand dropped again, his handsome features were twisted up with worry. Was he that bothered by a bad haircut? His gaze moved over me, flicked to the bag, and then back to me. Assessing. He was calculating how much energy it would take to heft me up and throw me over his shoulder. But he wouldn’t do that.
He wouldn’t throw his weight around like he was all muscle and brute masculine strength—like I was just a rag doll to be put in whatever position he needed.
When did it get so hot in here?
“Just know that I don’t want to do this.” He took a steadying breath.
I took a step back. “Well, then don’t. Benny Jr. isn’t the boss of you.” I pinched my lips. “I mean, I guess heliterallyis, but you have free will.”
The determined set of his shoulders and the frown pulling at his mouth told me he wasn’t listening, or at least didn’t think the free will part to be true.
I wasn’t going down there without changing my life. I would not go back to being set furniture in somebody else’s movie.
I picked up the scissors again, gripping them with all my might as I thrust the rounded down edges in his direction. He plucked them like a dandelion and tossed them into the overnight bag.
“Sorry, Bee. A job is a job.”
He stepped closer until I was backed up against the bathroom sink, cold ceramic digging into my lower spine. He loomed over me, smelling like cold air and manly shampoo that probably had an anchor on the bottle or at least a topless mermaid. His heat seared up my front as he overtook my entire vision until it was just his stupid, handsome face. He kept his hair short so the sandy brown hairs weren’t more than a centimeter long, and I wondered if it would tickle to run my palms over it. His full lips were usually set in a firm line and now was no different as his blue eyes moved over me. His darker beard was trimmed and tidy but only added to his attempted aura of intimidation. My hands gripped the sink basin, and I leaned back so that he wasn’t the only thing in my field of vision.
“Last chance to walk out of here with me.” His deep voice curled through me like wisps of perfumed smoke, intoxicating and heady.
I lifted my chin and held his stare. “Not. A. Chance.”
His gaze moved over my features and lingered a moment on my lips. Awareness passed through my body. Was it my imagination, or was he totally checking me out? I didn’t have a ton of experience with these things, but there was a vibe here. Maybe this was part of my transformation? Maybe this newfound confidence made me infinitely more alluring. I’d been waiting patiently since high school to have my glow-up. Perhaps all it took was a hack job of a haircut and a total personality overhaul.
At some point in my internal musings, he’d moved even closer. The arch of my spine smoothed out as my shouldersrelaxed, and I stopped pulling away. There was hardly half a GP between us now. His heat was palpable, his blue eyes narrow rings around blown-out pupils. Were we about to kiss? Should we kiss? For the story?
