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Frankie calmed and brushed his fingers through my waves. “Jesus, honey. Let’s see what we can do about that hair.”
“You’re here for him, not me.” I turned him around to face Hunter.
“Frankie, meet Hunter. Hunter, Frankie.”
“The caveman? Yum. I see why you need my help.”
“Your help?” Hunter asked. “I thought Grace was doing me.”
“Honey, I can do you better than your girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.” I grabbed the bags of supplies off the floor and carried them to the washroom. “And Frankie specializes in trimming men, so unless you want me to touch your dick, he’s doing the job.”
“My dick? Why does he need to touch my dick?”Hunter leaned against the doorframe with one arm. His biceps stretched and muscles bunched. Jesus, he looked delicious in that bear suit, but a trim would make him irresistible.
Fucking hormones.
I physically shuddered, shaking off the lust. Thank God, Frankie was here. “Are you ready?” My voice quivered.
“Fine. But he’s staying away from my dick.”He pointed to Frankie. “And you’re going to fill me in on everything you saw at Gracie’s.”
The sound of my name, the way he used to say it, didn’t evoke the rush of dread I expected.
Frankie walked past us into the bathroom, picked up the bags of supplies I’d set on the floor, turned on his heel and carried them across my room. “I need a better space.” We followed him to Hunter’s bedroom, where he cleared a table, moved it to the bedside, and set up the equipment. He found a pair of scissors and clipped them between his fingers. “Let’s get trimming. This will take a while.”
He pulled Hunter into the bedroom and pushed me out the door.
“Wait,” I said. “Leave the beard. Clean it up, but leave it.”
Hunter’s mustache twitched with what I assumed was a smile. I enjoyed reading the subtle movements underneath his facial hair, like they were secretive, and for me.
I was patient and paced the room for the first hour, then the second. Halfway through the third, I knocked on the bedroom door. “How much longer?”
“Longer,” Frankie called out.
I cracked my fingers and massaged the stress out of my shoulders five times before the bedroom door opened, and Frankie sneaked through the crevice, past me.
“He’s all yours. He wants to come out, but you need to finish the job down under. He won’t let me move the goods, and from what I can see underneath the towel, the goods need a trim.”
“Okay, okay. Thank you so much.” I hugged him tight. “We’ll stay in touch.”
“Definitely. I can’t believe this is the man you’ve complained about over the years.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a protector and a provider. The things he did in Costa Rica—”
“He told you about Costa Rica?"
“I’ll tell you this much: I’d let any man who called me his queen butter me up like a pancake for breakfast, so take a hint, Grace.”
My heart thumped harder, but the inviting image of a mature Hunter that Frankie painted was difficult to frame. I folded my arms across my chest.
“I didn’t complain. I vented.”
“Sure. Good luck with the caveman.”
The bear,I corrected in my mind.
