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Laughing, I shook my head. “See you soon.” I slipped my phone back into my pocket and straightened my clothes on the way through the double doors.
When I looked up with a smile, I froze.
State stood near my table.
State.
A big biker guy was in a salon.
The man I’d ghosted like a weirdo now stood not far away.
He was also surrounded by other clients and some work colleagues.
“Your hair is amazing. I’d love to get my hands on it,” Rina, the owner of the salon, said, placing a hand on his forearm and smiling coyly up at him.
That was what got me moving.
I stomped over and gently pushed my way through the crowd to stand opposite my table. “State, hi.”
He hadn’t heard my approach because of all the damn hussies trying to talk over one another for his attention, but over all the noise, he’d heard me. When his gaze shot to mine, I gripped the back of my chair because his wide grin had me swooning. “Darlin’, how you doin’?”
All the women glared at me, and I waved my hand toward them. “I’m sure you all have to get back to what you were doing.”
They mumbled and muttered but at least went away. When I lifted my eyes to State again, I watched him pull out the chair opposite my table and sit down.
My mouth dropped open, but I quickly closed it. “Ah, what are you doing?”
“I’m your client.”
“You?”
“Yep.”
“You want your nails done?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Why was he here?
Why, after I’d gone and left while he was in the bathroom?
Already my heart, my pulse, and my belly were acting up, as if all of them wanted to reach out to this man and kidnap him.
At least my head was still screwed on.
Well, I thought it was, but I couldn’t get over the fact he’d come to find me at my workplace. Not after what I’d done.
This was dangerous.
If he wasn’t careful, Iwouldkidnap him and keep him forever.
Clearing my throat, I sat and stared down at his tattooed hands resting on the table. My face heated as I took one of his big palms and started filing his nails. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then managed to blurt, “I’m sorry for leaving like I did.”
His hand twisted in mine, and he gripped my tiny hand in his large one. The pitter-patter in my chest intensified. His thumb brushed back and forth over my wrist, and I couldn’t look away from it.
His tone was rough, low, and mouthwatering when he asked, “Why did you leave?”
Because I was feeling too much, which scared me.
