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“Yeah,” I nod.
“Bye,” she says sweetly over her shoulder, wiggling her fingers in a wave before shutting the door behind them, only for it to be jolted open again as Luna sticks her head back in and gives me a smile.
Kasey
Hooookay…
Ben can seriously wear the hell out of a t-shirt, I’ve decided. That light grey number he was sporting looked so light and comfy, stretched across his chest and hugging his biceps so perfectly. I wanted to walk right into him and bury my face in his chest to see if he still had that musky, sea scent about him. The very idea gives my vagina the warm-tingles, and the poor thing could stand some manly attention.
That’s been a bit of a problem with the fuck-boy train that has been my dating life the last couple years. But to have my lady parts attended to by a real salt-of-the-earth man?
Yes…
Perhaps one that’s got a fit body from working on boats, politely asks a woman to dance, saves small children in his spare time, is med school smart andknowsshit would be preferable, but hey, I’m not picky. And I find it sexy as hell whenever he does that little head toss to get his hair out of his eyes. It will be a shame to cut it. Although, cutting it for him means I’ll get to put my fingers in his hair, all the better to imagine tugging on it while he-
“Mom, can I stay up late tonight?” Luna’s voice pipes up from the back seat, jolting me out of my fantasy. Lady boner gone, thank you so much, kid.
“Why?”I look at her in the rearview mirror.
“Since Ben’s still around, I want to make him a thank you card,” she answers simply.
Oooh, good one, I think. She's getting more clever and strategic with her requests to bend rules. I'll have to make a note of that.
“That’s sweet, but you can do that tomorrow,” I point out to see her huff and pout in the mirror.
Sorry kid… your mommy has a sad, sad date with her vibrator tonight.
I let my mind drift back to Ben and I think back to our dance when we first met; the gentleman he was, and how his hands and arms made me feel so respected and cared for. How his scent and those kind brown eyes made me just want to get even closer.
How I caught him half-dressed and half asleep in his hotel room.
How he looked sitting on the bed looking after Luna.
So much about these little things make me want to crawl into the arms of this person I barely know and live there.
Chapter Nine
Ben
It’s been so longsince I’ve given a shit what people think of who I am or how I look. But here I am, pulling up to the salon Kasey told me she works at, hoping I’m dressed okay. I even ditched the scruff I normally let grow a few days at a time and shaved this morning.
I can already see her through the window, smiling down and chatting with the customer in the chair in front of her as her hands stay busy. I pull in a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm my nerves. Why the fuck am I nervous? I take another breath and hold it while I yank open the glass door, setting off the string of bells that hang against it.
Several stylists look up to acknowledge my arrival as I nervously look around. It’s a bright and airy room with a lot of natural light coming in through the windows, and it’s cool from the air conditioning. The strong smell of chemicals masked by floral and fruity scents assault my nostrils while the sound of hair dryers and chatter bounces off the walls.
Kasey looks up and gives me a bright happy-to-see-me smile that startles my heart in my chest. She looks gorgeous, confident, and definitely in her element in a black apron with the salon’s logo on it covering her purple tank top and dark blue jeans.
“Hey,” she greets me cheerfully as she does some trick with the woman’s hair in front of her, wrapping it around the barrel of her hair dryer, followed by flipping it to a round brush as she dries it. I notice a couple of other stylists hard at work, but they’re not too busy to look between Kasey and me, and then at each other, exchanging the same curious smile. Kasey briefly pauses her rhythm to hold up her index finger at me, and I nod and wander over to find a seat in the waiting area by the window where I’m surprised to find Luna sitting at a table. She’s in a basketball jersey and shorts, hunched over a bunch of markers and white sheets of paper so she doesn’t see me at first.
“Hey, Luna,” I smile warmly at her as she looks up, and her little brown eyes light up wide as I sit down nearby.
“Ben!” she shouts, just a little too loudly. “Oh my gosh, I have something for you! Hang on!” The words come out frantic and rapid as she grabs a backpack off the chair next to her and starts rifling through it. She frowns as she searches and I make note of the laceration near her eyebrow. It’s clean and healing nicely, and I can tell it’s been tended to with some kind of topical agent. As if I needed another indicator of how good a parent Kasey is to this kid.
Oblivious to my assessment, Luna triumphantly pulls out a red folder and opens it, pulling out another drawing, this one folded in half with the words ‘Thank You’ imperfectly written on it in a rainbow of different colored markers.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking it from her when she holds it out to me.
“A ‘Thank You’ card,” she timidly hunches her shoulders and folds her hands between her skinned knees, “for saving me.”
