Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Hey.” His greeting was low and rough, sending a thrill of awareness through my body.
“Hi,” I managed, forcing what I hoped was a professional smile. “You made it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a way that was both messy and unfairly hot. “Thanks for making time for me.”
“No problem.” I gestured toward the chair, thankful my hands weren’t shaking. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
He did, his gaze finding mine in the mirror. The quiet between us stretched, thick with only the sound of the blow-dryers behind us.
“So…” I cleared my throat and reached for my comb. “Just a cleanup for media day?”
“Yeah, PR stuff.” His eyes didn’t leave my reflection. “Figured I should look decent if they’re gonna point a camera at me.”
I laughed a little too quickly. “You look good to me.”
His lips twitched. “Thanks.”
I asked him a few questions about his cut before getting started. It was just a trim, something I could practically do with my eyes closed. But being acutely aware of his lingering stare made it hard to focus.
To distract myself from the butterflies swirling in my belly, I prattled on about anything and everything. How long The Color Loft had been open. My commute into work on the train this morning. The new shampoo and conditioner we just started to carry.
“You always this talkative when you work?”
“Only when I’m nervous,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He arched his brow. “You nervous, sunshine?”
Heat rushed to my face. “Nope. Definitely not.”
He hummed like he didn’t believe me, and I pretended to focus on trimming around his ears while every nerve in my body buzzed.
Every time our eyes met in the mirror, my chest tightened just a little more.
So I kept filling the silence until I finished. Brushing the stray hairs off his neck, I couldn’t miss the way he was watching me. His jaw clenched when my fingers grazed his skin, and I swore I felt the tension hum through both of us.
“All done.” My voice came out softer than I intended. “You’re good to go.”
He stood slowly, turning toward me instead of the mirror. “Thanks, Ivy.”
The way he said my name made my breath hitch.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered.
He lingered for half a second before murmuring, “See you soon.”
Then he walked over to Missy to pay for his cut. I caught the low murmur of his voice as he told her to use the change for my tip. He shot me another intense look before the bell over the door jingled in his wake.
I stood there staring at the empty chair until Lorna’s voice broke through the noise of dryers and chatter. “Still think it’s a coincidence that he came here for a cut he didn’t really need?”
I groaned. “Don’t you have a client?”
“Yeah.” She smirked. “But watching you blush over a football player is way more entertaining.”
I rolled my eyes, trying—and failing—to bite back a smile, all while hoping I really would see Saxon again soon.
3
SAXON
The clang of weights hitting the floor mixed with sneakers squeaking against the turf, and someone had music pounding through a speaker that had seen better days. Normally, I could shut all that out and focus on the rhythm of my reps, but today, every sound scraped against my nerves. My focus was shot.
I had been half in my head all afternoon, thinking about how Ivy had mentioned taking the train back to Manhattan after her shift. She’d said it like it was nothing—just a passing comment between light banter about the PR day. But now I couldn’t stop picturing her in that oversized coat, stepping onto a dim platform, surrounded by strangers, heading into the city at night. The image stuck in my chest like a thorn.
It had me even more on edge than usual, which meant I was pushing harder than I needed during a light conditioning workout. I was taking out my frustration on the heavy bag.
Raiden tossed a football across the gym, hitting me square in the shoulder. “What crawled up your ass today?” His voice carried over the thrum of music pumping through the speakers and the grunts and groans of our teammates. “You look like you wanna burn the building down.”
I caught the ball with one hand and shot him a look that would have made most people shrink back in fear. Raiden just smirked.
Huck snorted as he chalked his hands. “That’s just his normal face.”
“I’m fine,” I grunted, planting my palms against the padded metal and driving into the turf.
“No, you’re broodier than usual,” Micah piped up, because the asshole liked to poke the bear.
I shot him a look. “Drop it.”
But trying to shut him down only encouraged him.
“Maybe he’s just tired.” Micah grinned. “You old now, Sax?”
I ignored them and bent to grab the sled handles, my muscles flexing as I pushed it down the length of turf. It should’ve cleared my head. But it didn’t. Every stride just wound me tighter.