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“If it’s not a boy, why don’t you just tell me what it is?” I said softly, almost scared of how she was going to react. This new Parker was a wildcard.
She rolled over and looked at me, studying my face, and I could see it, right there on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell me something so bad she could taste it.
But as quick as lightning, her eyes dimmed and her mouth turned down, shutting me out so fast it broke my damn heart.
There was nothing in the world harder than being a mom. And I still wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
“You always do that.” She rolled her eyes, scowling at me like I was the devil herself.
“Do what?” I questioned, rubbing her sweet head even though she was looking at me like she wanted to murder me.
“You always assume it’s a boy. It’s gross, Mom.” She jerked away from me and rolled off the bed and walked right out of the room.
I heard the bathroom door slam and slumped onto the bed.
For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t do anything right. How the hell was I to know what was bothering her? When I was her age, almost all my woes were related to boys.
Moming was hard.
To make matters worse, she didn’t speak to me the whole drive to school and refused to eat the breakfast I’d left for her on the counter. I’d dropped her off feeling like a massive parent failure.
I needed Andrew. He would know what to do. How to snap her out of whatever funk she was in. They’d make some stupid joke and all would be forgotten.
If I thought I longed for Andy on a regular day, I was wrong, because during times like these I really needed him.
My day at work didn’t get any better.
I was tired as hell and my mood was shit. I told myself it had more to do with Parker and less to do with the whole ordeal a couple of weeks ago.
It definitely wasn’t because I wanted to go to mister tall, dark, and handsome’s house for dirty sex. It wasn’t that at all.
And after being on my feet for over ten hours, the last thing I wanted to do was take a last-minute walk-in, but what could I do? It was fifteen minutes until closing and one of my coworkers had already checked the person in while I was finishing up my last client.
I walked over to the computer and scrolled until I saw the last name for the day. I sighed in relief that it was a man. This would be a quick cut and then I could call it quits and hopefully go home to my daughter and figure out what the hell was going on with her. And then I was going to sleep for a solid twelve hours.
“Weston Reeves,” I called out, not even bothering to look up. I grabbed the broom from behind the desk and swept around my station. Leaning over, I picked up the dustpan and set about scooping up big gobs of hair when a pair of very large combat boots landed right in my line of sight.
“Sorry, I just need to get this up,” I mumbled, continuing to collect the hair from the floor.
The police scanner in the stylist’s booth next to mine said something and I jumped. I looked around, seeing that Selena, the gorgeous Hispanic woman who worked next to me, was gone for the day but had left her scanner on.
Her husband was a policeman in our small town and she was always listening in when she was at work. Not that I could blame her. I just knew I couldn’t live like that. Not again.
“Take your time,” a deep, gravelly voice that almost sounded familiar said from above me. I swept all the hair up as quickly as possible and threw it in the trash bin.
“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to my chair. “I’ll be with you in just a second.”
I turned around, cape in my hand, a fake smile plastered to my face, and the wind was knocked right out of me. My stranger was standing right in front of me. My guy with the dark eyes. The guy whom I’d recklessly gone home from the club with. The same guy whose house I’d randomly shown up at and then proceeded to have filthy sex with in his garage. The guy who’d called me slugger. The guy with the dog tags underneath his shirt. That guy.
He walked toward me all Southern swagger, in a pair of worn denim jeans and a white T-shirt. He was clean-shaven and I could already smell the familiar scent of him, all soap and spice. I would have drooled if my mouth hadn’t been hanging open in shock.
But he didn’t look the least bit shocked to see me. Nope, he stood there with half a smirk on that handsome face like he’d expected to see me. Which told me everything I needed to know.
The man had told me I was a lunatic, but he was a damn stalker.
What kind of crazy person showed up at someone’s job? Furthermore, how did he know where to find me? The man didn’t even know my name.
I didn’t even know his name, either. But wait, only now I did. Weston. Weston Reeves. Even his name was gorgeous, damn him and his stalking ass.
