Never mind the fact the first haircut I had in months was two weeks ago. That was different. And this time I had extra motivation.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I shut off the engine, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door. Two weeks of throwing myself back into work. Two weeks of focusing on the job.
Only my focus was jack.
Every time I thought I had a good day, I would spend the nights in my apartment daydreaming. About a blonde I had no business thinking about.
I walked up the steps of the salon and went inside. The place was pretty ritzy. ‘Course, what did I know? My mom was the one who usually cut my hair, in the center of her dining room, with an old towel wrapped around my shoulders. It was free. She’d been cutting it since I was a boy, so why change it if it wasn’t broken?
The floors were made of light-colored Travertine tile. There was a mosaic fountain by the front door and the trickling water blended with the Zen-type music that played through speakers in the ceiling.
The receptionist desk was round with a young brunette sitting in the center. The top of the desk was black granite and there was a large, very organized display of hair products to the left.
I had no idea so many different bottles of stuff existed.
To the right of the desk was a long row of stylist chairs lining the wall. All of them had built-in white cabinetry, bright lights, and black stylist chairs. The mirrors bounced light around the room and the hum of women’s voices and blow-dryers filled the air.
Toward the very back of the room were several stations of people getting their nails done, something I never planned to do. Just being in this place to get my hair cut was a danger to my man card.
The guys at the station would have a field day if they could see me now.
The receptionist perked up as soon as her eyes landed on me, so I smiled and stepped forward. “Is Julie available for a haircut?” I asked, glancing in Julie’s direction.
She was cutting someone’s hair and laughing. The sound caused something in me to tighten. I replayed that laugh over in my head so many times in the past few weeks, but nothing I ever heard in my head sounded near as good as the live thing.
“Julie is with a client,” the receptionist said. “But Layla has an opening.”
The girl I presumed was Layla came forward, long, dark hair swinging around her shoulders. She was pretty hot. Her lips were red and she wore impressive high heels accentuating her mile-long legs.
I considered my options. Accepting and letting Layla cut my hair would probably be a smart move. I told myself I wouldn’t come here anyway, yet here I stood. My eyes drifted over to Julie. She was no longer paying attention to the client in her chair but was watching me.
Layla stepped closer and put a hand on my arm. “Ready?”
Something passed behind Julie’s eyes… something that looked suspiciously like disappointment. Then she turned back to what she was doing.
“I’ll wait for Julie,” I said.
Layla’s eyes widened in surprise. I flashed her a grin. “Nothing personal. Maybe next time.”
She smiled and grabbed a card off the reception desk and held it out. “Here’s my card. It has my number on it. If you ever want to make an appointment… or go out for drinks.”
Any other time I would have been all over this girl. I would have asked her out on the spot. But today I had no interest. Today, the back of my neck itched because I felt the subdued gray-blue-eyed stare I knew was behind me.
I forced a smile toward Layla and pocketed the card, giving her a little wink. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
Yeah, it was a lie. But I wasn’t about to hurt her feelings.
She gave me a smile and then moved away, shaking her hips as she went. I watched… because I was a guy. And because it was a nice view.
I took a seat near the reception desk, looking at all the girly magazines and products around me. Man, I must really have it bad to subject myself to a place like this.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long. Julie escorted her client to the reception desk and gave her a warm smile while she helped her schedule another appointment for a future date. I couldn’t help but watch her.
There was something sincere about her. Something that drew my eyes like she was standing under a spotlight that only I could see. Her bangs were falling over one eye and every once in a while she would push at them while she talked. It was a move I found oddly endearing.
Once the client was gone, Julie turned her eyes toward me. I noticed her smile lost a little bit of its authenticity. I didn’t like that. Not at all.
“Blue,” she said, coming over to stand before me.
I stood up. “Got time for a haircut?”