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“Are you in the scene around here?” Ambrose said, breaking the tension.
“A little.” She was glad the salon was empty. Having this conversation all hushed in front of nosy coworkers would have spelled trouble. People got fired for less. “I go to The Catacombs once in a while. You?”
“I haven’t gone in a long time. I don’t remember seeing you.”
“I’m not very memorable.” She chuckled like it was a joke, but it fell flat. Maybe because there was truth there.
“No.” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her face. “I would’ve remembered you.”
She squirmed under his gaze. He was a definitely a Dom. Was he single? Could he handle her? If it was just about size, he could definitely manhandle her plus-size figure easily, but did he have the mental stamina to keep up with her? Most Doms didn’t like brats, but tough shit, because that’s who she was, and she’d sworn back when she broke things off with Scott she’d never change for a man. Or a woman.
Trying to ignore him and do her job, she turned on the small clippers and leaned down to even out the front of his hair on his forehead. The buzz was quiet enough to talk now, but she wasn’t sure what to say. This whole conversation, here at work, was throwing her off her game. Kink talk happened in the bedroom or the club, not in the salon.
“Do you know Banner?” he asked.
When his head wobbled, she held it still with her free hand.
He kept talking anyway. “He used to play there. Before he settled down with his Kate. That’s who’s getting married the day after tomorrow.”
“No, I don’t think I know him.” She finished the front then moved to the side to work around his ears.
“What about Konstantin?”
That rang a bell. Images popped up of a playboy with dark eyes, a Russian accent, and a girl under each arm. She chuckled. “I’ve heard of him.”
He smiled. “He’s my other best friend.”
“Cool. So we must travel in the same circles. Weird we’ve never met.”
“Yeah. Weird.”
How could she ask if he was single without sounding desperate? Rejection stung like a bitch, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with that this early in the morning.
“So, who are you bringing to the wedding? Do you have a date?” Fuck. She could’ve kicked herself. Way to not sound desperate.
“No. I’m single at the moment.”
“Me too.” Fuck again! Why had she said that? It wasn’t like he’d asked. God, she was usually smoother than this. He was messing with her head.
“I was thinking of heading to The Catacombs tonight, actually,” she ventured. Maybe she could still salvage this. “To see if I can find someone to play with. It’s been a long time.”
“Really?” His brow quirked.
“Yeah. I’m hoping there’ll be some new people. I’ve played with almost everyone and scared all the usuals away. Poor little things.”
“You haven’t played with me.” Their gazes met in her mirror, and the blatant dare in his made her bite her lip.
She paused, then smirked. “I doubt you could handle me.”
Chuckling, he shifted in the chair. “Well, that’s a challenge if I ever heard one. Are you a switch?”
“I’m a brat.” It sounded like a warning. Maybe it was one. She was tired of too-serious Doms trying to crush her spirit and turn her into something she wasn’t. And she was tired of the newbies letting her walk all over them then storming away all butthurt when she wouldn’t cooperate.
“I enjoy brats.”
She snorted. “That’s what they all say. They change their minds when you tell them they should use their pretty mouths for things other than lectures.”
He barked a laugh. “You’ve actually said that?”
