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He doesn’t care that I have a wonderful relationship with his grandparents and that I’m barely making ends meet as it is. No, all he wants is his damn money.
I sniff. “What do you want?” What other calamitous news is he going to drop on my head? Maybe I can kick him in the nuts preemptively. It would probably make me feel better, but it would also probably land me in jail for assault.
He runs a broad hand over his jaw. “I was hoping for a shave.”
I blink. “A shave.”
Desmond shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He moves like a big cat, a predator stalking through the forest. His eyes are so dark they appear black. It makes me nervous to meet his gaze.
Another tiny, mocking smile curls his lips. “Yes. You know, when you take a razor and cut the hairs on a man’s face?”
Bristling, I plant my hands on my hips. I wish he weren’t so much taller than I am, so I could intimidate him properly. At five foot one, I’m not exactly big. Desmond, on the other hand, looks like he could pick me up and throw me over his shoulder without breaking a sweat. My barbershop barely feels big enough for the both of us.
“I know what a shave is,” I answer through gritted teeth.
“You seemed confused.”
“Iseemed confused?” I dip my words in so much acid, they burn my tongue on the way out. Usually, when I take this tone of voice with people, they back away slowly and avoid me for the rest of their lives. It’s my special skill: being an unapproachable witch with an inner dragon.
Instead of leaving my shop, Desmond takes a step toward me. His eyes spark, then he casts a deliberate glance around the empty room. “Unless you’re too busy for a walk-in?”
This is some sort of sick power play. He knows the rent increase is putting me in a bad spot, and now he’s here to rub it in my face. I can’tbelievehim.
I should kick him out. I should just open the door and make him leave, landlord or no. He doesn’t get to push me around. He doesn’t get to use his size to loom over me like this. He doesn’t get to arch a brow and laugh at me just because he’s extorting me.
I hate him. I hate him so much it makes my skin burn.
But I also need to come up with the rent money, and I can’t exactly afford to turn away a paying customer, no matter how much I dislike him. I have enough in my emergency parachute of savings to make rent for September, but that won’t leave much left over to operate the business and live my life. I’ll be on beans and rice until I manage to get more clients or find a second job.
All that to say, I’m going to have to shave this arrogant prig’s facial hair and pretend I’m happy about it.
Sometimes I really hate my life. But mostly I hate him.
Baring my teeth, I sweep a hand toward the chair Hamish vacated. “Please.”
He stalks past me, and I get a nose full of his scent. He smells like citrus and sandalwood, and it goes straight to my head. Of course he smells good. He’s beautiful and muscular and well-dressed. He probably tailored his cologne to knock women off their feet, because he enjoys having power over them.
Well. He doesn’t have power over me. He might own this building, but I willnotbe bullied.
I sweep a gown over his shoulders and meet his gaze in the mirror. Those dark eyes bore into mine, and it feels like he can see all the way to my furious, roiling soul.
I arch my brows. “Well? What do you want?”
Inexplicably, that makes him laugh. It’s a rich, warm sound, totally at odds with his cold demeanor. “Take it all off,” he says.
Because I’m a professional, I do my best to set aside my intense dislike and I give him a sweet smile. “Coffee? Tea?”
“Water,” he says. There’s no “please.” No question in his tone. He just barks an order at me.
Figures.
I get him his precious water and get to work. But once the shaving cream is on him, and I’ve got my straight razor in my hand, stropped and ready to go, my heart starts to thump.
The thing about shaving a man’s face is it’s quite intimate. I have to close the distance between us, put my fingers on his face to hold his skin taut, and use a very sharp instrument all over his jaw and neck. It takes trust from him and skill from me.
I’ve been doing this for a long time, and usually, I feel nothing when I shave a man. I take pride in doing a good job, and all my focus is on giving the customer what they want. I’ve built this business because I care about the job, and I have a good eye for it. Subtle angles and shapes make all the difference; it’s like makeup on a woman. I’mgoodat my job. I know I am.
Yet, I hesitate.
