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Finally confident my voice is under control, I face him and ask, “How long will you be there?”
Des leans back in the chair, letting out a long sigh, gaze sliding away from mine. There’s something he’s not telling me. “That depends on a few things.”
Of course it does. I knew he was leaving, and I still managed to get myself tied up in knots over him, my heart jumping like a jackrabbit when my daughter asked about marriage. Marriage!
I’m a special kind of delusional.
Not able to bear the chance of eye contact, I turn back to my tools, touching the handle of my razor gently. I feel hot and cold and tense. I wish I knew what Des was thinking, what he wanted from me. I have feelings for this man—strong feelings—and they terrify me.
I begin, and Des closes his eyes. “How did Bailey feel after dinner?”
None of your business, I want to scream. If he’s just going to walk out of our lives willy-nilly, why should he have the right to know anything about my daughter? Then I talk myself down and remind myself that he’s coming back, he just doesn’t know when.
But what isn’t he telling me?
Maybe this is a sign. I’m not supposed to open up to Des—or anyone, for that matter—anytime soon. I need to focus on my daughter and my business.
“She’s happy, I think.”
Another silence, then: “She deserves to know her father.”
“So I keep reminding myself,” I answer grimly. I take my time with his shave, loving the sound of the razor against Des’s skin, the warmth of him so close to me. Shaving him is different from shaving my regular customers. It’s intimate, almost domestic.
I like it—maybe too much.
“What aren’t you telling me about dinner last night?” Des finally asks when I’m putting my tools away.
With my back to him, I can frown without Des noticing. Shuttering my expression, I glance over my shoulder. “What?”
“You seem on edge.”
Ya think?Maybe because the first man I’ve been attracted to has done nothing but confuse me for the past three months. And my ex-husband suddenly reappeared, acting like the father of the year. And both of them will probably be gone for good within a few weeks, and I’ll have to pick up the pieces and make sure my daughter and I survive.
“I’m fine,” I answer. “There’s just a lot going on.”
Des opens his mouth to answer, but the ringing of my phone interrupts him. We both look at the little counter below the mirror, where Colin’s name is lit up on the phone’s display. I grimace.
“Answer it,” Des says, his eyes losing their softness. “Might be important.”
I nod, then take a few steps away and answer. “Yeah?”
“Are you busy?” Colin asks.
“Um. Kind of.” I glance at Des. “I’m with a customer right now.”
Something strange happens to Des’s face when I say that, but I have to look away to focus on what Colin says next.
“How do you feel about me taking Bailey out next weekend, just the two of us? I could take her to her basketball game and then out to lunch after.”
I can almost feel Des’s eyes on me, and discomfort twists in my gut. I bite my lip and say, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you being with her one-on-one yet, Colin. It’s only been a couple of days.”
“I understand. Can I take you both out to dinner, then?”
“Um, fine,” I answer, catching Des standing behind me. He gestures toward the door, like he has to leave. He wasn’t in such a hurry before my phone rang. What’s that about? Is he upset I’m speaking to Colin? He’s the one who’s taking off without warning for who knows how long!
I realize I’ve missed what Colin is saying when he asks me a question, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Sorry, Colin. Text me the details. I have to go.” I hang up just as Des reaches the door. “Wait!”
He pauses, turning to face me. “You’re busy,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t take up so much of your time. I have to pack and get ready to go, anyway.”
