by Lynn, Brandy
Hustling to the front, I look up into the most gorgeous, familiar eyes, shocked at the man standing in front of me. Blinking rapidly to make sure I’m not dreaming, I realize I haven’t said a peep to him other than when he first walked in.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he shuffles from one foot to the other. Assuming he’s waiting for me to say something, I snap out of my momentary shock and get down to business. “Hi. Welcome to Tangles Salon. Have you been here before?” I ask automatically because it’s ingrained in me from saying it these past couple of weeks. Silently, I’m thanking the heavens above that I’m finally going to find out Mr. Mysterious’ name. Since I first saw him that day with Edwin, I’ve been curious.
“No, I haven’t. I’m looking to get a cut, and I hear this is the best place in town.” He pulls off his hat. His hair is in beautiful disarray, and that sudden urge to run my fingers through it is back in full force. He smiles in my direction, and I swear to God I almost melt into a puddle of goo. Dear God. Those dimples. Those lips. His eyes. He is just downright gorgeous. I could stare at him for hours and never get tired of it.
“Absolutely. We can help with that.” I smile in his direction. “Your name and phone number please.” I look up at him expectantly, awaiting his answer.
There’s a twinkle of something in his eyes, mischief maybe, as he responds. “Is that all? Just my name and my number? Well”—he looks down at my name tag displayed on the right-hand side of my smock before continuing—“Callie, at least you’re finally asking for what you really want.” He winks in my direction, his eyes dancing with humor. “Chance Walker. And my cell is (671) 555-7549,” he rattles off. Quickly, I put his information in the system when I hear the back door slam. Sadie must be coming back in from her break. One look at Chance and she’s all googley-eyed. I can’t blame her. Hell, I was too. He’s gorgeous and definitely not from around here. I want to find out more about him. And this may be my only chance, so when Sadie asks if he’s ready to go back, I quickly interject and let her know I’m taking care of him. She gives me a weird what-the-fuck face since she knew I was leaving, but I don’t care. I want to touch this man. To run my fingers through his hair. To get up close and personal and find out who the hell Chance Walker is. It’s something about this man. I can’t explain it, but I need to do this.
I walk Chance back to the shampoo station and guide him into the chair. “Can you lie back for me?” I ask, maneuvering his neck to adjust the styling cape I placed on him. He lies back without question. I walk around the other side of the bowl and get the temperature of the water just right. I start to lather the shampoo in my palms before massaging it into this scalp. Taking my time, I move from the top of his head all the way down his neck in circular motions. He closes his eyes, and small moans of enjoyment leave his gorgeous plump lips. I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing. I take my time with the conditioner next, dragging this out as long as possible.
Once that’s done, I move him to my chair. “So do you know what you want to do today with your hair?”
“You’re the stylist. I trust you. Just do whatever you think would look the best.” How could this man trust me? He doesn’t even know me.
Still, I explain what I plan to do. Finishing up his cut, I turn his chair so he can see what I’ve done, which is only remove about two inches and shape it up a little. He looks at himself in the mirror, smiling at me as I stand behind him, waiting for his reaction. His stare is intense, and he looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he says, “It looks great. Thank you.” And with that, he gets up and heads to the register to pay. Sadie is up at the front, so I don’t rush after him.
“Sure thing. Come back and see us, yeah?” He turns in my direction and nods my way before handing over some bills to Sadie. Busying myself with cleaning up my station again, Sadie brings over my tip from Chance. “Here you go. He asked me to give you this.” She hands over a small receipt with small but neat handwriting. Tucked inside is a twenty-dollar tip, which is crazy since his haircut was less than fifteen dollars! Attached to the small receipt are his words …
I’m not normally a dick. Scratch that. Yes, I am. Don’t hold it against me. Hopefully, this will make up for my hasty exit.
Chance
I’m taken aback a little by his note. I didn’t think he was a dick—more like quiet, reserved, and very private. Most people get in my chair and treat it like a therapy session, and I’m okay with that. That wasn’t the case with Chance, though. Every time I asked a question about him, he shut me down. I just wrote it off as he’s a private person. I get it. There are things I’d rather not talk about too. No judgment here. Packing my stuff up, I walk out the door, waving to Sadie on my way out. Shit. I look at the time and see it’s exactly six o’clock. I told Natalia I’d be home by now. Pulling out my iPhone, I fire off a quick text, letting her know I’m on the way, and toss my phone back into my bag. I make my way to my car and hop in with one destination in mind—home.
Pulling up to the house, I realize the party has started without me. People are mulling about, and I can see the fire pit down by the water already burning strong. Water is crashing against the sand’s edge, and you can hear laughter coming from the lake. The smell of hamburgers hits my nostrils, and my stomach instantly grumbles at the thought of food. I realize I haven’t eaten since my banana and protein bar this morning. Running inside, I fling my door open. Walking into my room, I throw my bag down and quickly strip out of my clothes since everyone is already down there. I’m already late as fuck, and I need to hurry up. With traffic and the errand I needed to run, it was past seven by the time I pulled in. I decide on my small white bikini and grab it from the far end of my dresser drawer. Pulling my bottoms up my legs and over my hips, I turn, looking for my top, and scream at the top of my lungs. Chance Walker is standing in my doorway. And he’s staring at me. And I’m half naked. Shit. Quickly, I cover my breasts with my arm and give him a death glare. “What the fuck are you doing?!” I whisper-yell a little too loudly. Because this is creepy as fuck.
“Calm down, Callie.” He moves in closer, stepping over the threshold of my room. And I swear to God I feel the temperature increase a good ten degrees. Is it hot in here or what? I don’t feel threatened by him. Maybe I should, but I don’t. I’m not sure what it is about him, but I feel like I can trust him. I’m not sure why. Hell, I can’t explain it. I’m probably all wrong. I thought I knew Derrick too, and you saw a glimpse of what that asshole was like. I squash down that memory because Derrick has no place in my life anymore. I will never allow him to have control of me again.
Chance continues, “I actually came back up to the house because Justin needs another spatula since his hit the sand.” He holds up a black spatula resting in his left hand to let me know he’s not actually a creeper. Or maybe he is, and he’s just a clever creeper. I don’t know right now. All I do know for certain is that Chance is in my bedroom. My personal space. And I have panties on my floor. Lots of panties. And bras. Don’t judge me. I know what you’re thinking. So I’m not that good of a housekeeper, but I don’t ever have anyone over, so I just throw my stuff in here. I wash everything on a weekly basis, and I do have a clothes hamper, but things just rarely make it in there. I work all the time, and I’m exhausted. Oh, dear God. I feel my cheeks redden as embarrassment flushes my body. You have got to be kidding me right now. He keeps going. “And I heard a commotion in here. I knew no one was supposed to be in the house, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He takes another step closer as he watches me, gauging my reaction. My chest rises and falls in rapid successions from his proximity. I can’t be this close to him. My senses are going haywire. I can smell him—a mix of cypress, woods, and clean cotton. It’s a dangerous and intoxicating concoction.
I don’t even know him, and already I want him to rip off my bikini bottoms and beg him to fuck me senseless. Till I can’t walk. Right here. Up against the wall. On my bed. On my knees. Even on the f
loor. Why is he still moving toward me? What is he doing? Watching his tongue glide out, I swear I am so jealous of that tongue right now as I watch him slowly lick his bottom lip. His lips are perfect. They’re the kind of lips you can kiss for days and never get tired of. Soft and subtle. Slowly, he stalks toward me, and right before reaching me, he bends down to pick up the tiny white bikini top I was frantically searching for earlier.
When he extends his hand, I reach to grab it from his clenches, and in the process, the arm covering my breasts jerks, giving him a very up close and personal glance. His eyes turn a fierce dark color as they zone in on my pebbled nibbles; a kaleidoscope of greens blending into a dark forest green as his chest rises and falls in quick succession. I can see him trying to control whatever he’s battling inside. “I think you were looking for this?” he says with a deep, gruff voice that’s full of the promise of something more.
He’s holding the bikini outward for me to take, but I decide against it. Diverting my attention south, I cast my eyes downward in an attempt to cover my embarrassment at my nip slip. I catch a glimpse of a shadow of what looks like a very prominent hard-on present through his board shorts that hang low on his hips. I smile to myself, knowing full well that I have some sort of an effect on him too.
Looking up at him beneath my lashes, I see a cocky smirk present on his face, and I realize he totally just caught me checking out his package. Kill me now. I don’t grab for the bikini top he’s holding, knowing full well he’d get a show of my full C-cups on display if I do. Instead, I intently watch him, wondering what his next move will be. I feel like we’re in a cat and mouse game. Tug of war. Push and pull.
When I rushed in here to change, I didn’t think to turn the lights on, so the only light in this room is the sun as it’s setting in the background, cascading through the small slits of my uncovered window panes.
Chance takes my top and ever so slowly guides my body with calloused fingers to face my dresser. My reflection stares back at me, and I’m shocked at what I see. Pure unadulterated lust fills my vision. Watching as our silhouettes illuminate in my mirror. Him standing behind me. So close. Yet so far away. I feel exposed. Raw and needy. Slowly, he begins to put my top on; his eyes never leave mine in the mirror as he ties the first strap in place. He runs his fingertips lightly up and down my sides with soft caresses, never once straying. I secure my cups in place while still managing to cover myself as he ties the final strap into place. He’s so close to me; I can feel his hot breath trickling down my neck. Each labored breath more intense and deeper than the last.
Goose bumps form on my arms with each soft stroke of his rough padded fingertips. I’m not sure what comes over me as I push back just slightly into Chance. This feeling is a heady concoction. Feeling his dick jump to attention at the motion of my ass pressing into him has me silently begging him to take me. Right now and here. I’m not even sure who this girl is.
He squeezes my hips, rocking my ass up against him again and causing moisture to pool between my legs. My sex is begging for release, and I’m praying Chance will give it to me. My body shivers from the intimate contact because it’s been so long since I’ve felt this. Moaning softly from the friction, I try to chase what my body so desperately craves with reckless abandon. I lay my head back on his shoulder as I throw caution to the wind and decide to let loose. But just as quick as it starts, it abruptly ends. Fuck my life.
Stepping back from me, Chance turns to leave without an explanation. Like he can’t get away from me fast enough. It’s official—Chance Walker is turning me into a hussy in heat. And I just embarrassed myself in front of him by trying to dry hump a man I met officially only hours before. I want to crawl into a hole and die of humiliation. I have no idea what has gotten into me. I thought he was into it—that he wanted me too—but I guess not. Having no idea what just happened, all I can do is watch his retreating back as he leaves me standing here confused, angry, and horny as fuck. Asshole.
Jumping from the force of the front door slamming, I peek my head around the corner to make sure the coast is clear, and he really did leave. As I think about what just transpired between us, I realize I may have pegged him all wrong. He told me he was an asshole, but I didn’t listen. Or I didn’t believe him. I should have known. At least, he was honest. I just don’t understand him. One second, he’s hot, and the next, he’s cold. Like he wants me but doesn’t want to admit it. For a second, I think about not showing my face down at the lake, but then I would need to explain to Natalia about why I went to bed instead of partying like I promised. Plus, I need to find out all the details about Chance. Starting with just how in the hell he knows Justin and Natalia.
Chapter 9
Chance
Fuck. Running my fingers through my hair, I stand on the porch listening to the small group off in the distance being obnoxious. What the fuck just came over me? I cannot believe I let it go that far. If I didn’t walk out right when I did, I would have bent Callie over and fucked her so hard she would have felt it for days. My balls are drawn up tight from the tension, aching for release. Shit. I cannot believe I let this get so out of hand. I can’t explain what she does to me. She brings out a side of me I didn’t know exists. Almost animalistic. I want to protect her. And love her. And fuck her.
The smell of her hair, the feel of her skin, the soft whimpers that left those gorgeous lips of hers and those fucking tits. Goddammit. Perfect fucking tits. Those nipples were begging for me to suck them. And Jesus Christ, I wanted to taste them. Roll my tongue around those small perky nipples and watch her squirm. Have her beg me to make her pussy come so hard that she doesn’t forget it. I can’t even believe I’m thinking this shit. We just met. This cannot be fucking happening right now. Never being a believer in that insta-love shit, I push those thoughts back. It must be my dick talking; that’s the only logical explanation for my behavior. I need to get laid. And fast.
Walking down to the beach, Justin looks up at me expectantly. “Dude. You get lost? I sent Natalia up a while ago to grab the spatula since you didn’t come back.” He looks at me quizzically, wondering what the fuck I was doing. Shit, I didn’t hear anyone come in. And I let the time slip away from me. She couldn’t have seen us. Right? I mean how would she. She waves in my direction with a small smirk playing on her lips. Fuck. She saw us. She knows something. Definitely knows something.
I look up at Justin with an apology forming on my lips when Natalia walks over and hands us both a bottle of beer. Thank God. I gulp the cold liquid down in three large swallows. “You feeling better?” she asks in my direction, raising her eyebrow in question. I’m not sure where this is headed, so I decide to let her lead the conversation.
“Um, yeah. Much better. Thanks for asking.” I give her a small smile, silently thanking her for not blowing my shit up.
“Sure thing. Another beer?” she questions.
“Please. I don’t mind grabbing it if you just point me in the direction.” She waves her hand toward three large blue and white coolers. I head over, grabbing two more beers from the one closest to me. Immediately, I down one and trash the bottle before opening the second. Looking back toward where I was standing, Justin grabs Natalia and brings her in close, kissing her hard and passionate. You can see the love these two have for each other, and it makes me envious. Almost jealous. I used to have that. At least, I thought I did. Until that bitch decided to fuck my dad.
I don’t realize someone is standing beside me until I hear her sweet voice. “You should slow down. Don’t want you to pass out before the party actually gets started.” Shaking myself out of that memory, I look to my right at the owner of the sugary sweet voice and see Callie standing there. Right now, though, she doesn’t look sugary sweet. No, not at all. In fact, she looks pissed. And hell, I don’t blame her. I would be too, given my actions. She’s not letting on, though, but I can tell. The tenseness in her shoulders. Her defensive stance. The sneer she’s sending my way. Yep, she’s pissed.
&nb
sp; I can tell she’s interested in me. She needs to understand I’m bad news. Even if I do feel something for her, I can’t go there. I have so much to focus on. I’m finally on the road to rebuilding my life. A great job, a small cabin to live in, and money in my pocket. Edwin’s been raving about how booked dance lessons have been—both group and private lessons. I barely have any time at all to myself since I started a couple of weeks ago. Women just complicate shit.
I acknowledge Callie with a slow nod. “Slow isn’t in my vocabulary, beautiful.” I don’t mean to call her beautiful. Don’t get me wrong; she’s gorgeous. Someone should tell her that. All the time. Haunted and beautiful—that’s what I see when I look at Callie. But I don’t want to lead her on. I’m not sure I’m ready for where I think this could go. Not yet. It’s too soon. The events of the last few years are too fresh in my mind. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s ever a right time to move on. I mean who says when someone should start over? There’s not a fucking handbook out here that gives us guidelines. We just do what feels right. When it feels right.
“Please. We both know you don’t think I’m beautiful, Chance. If you did, you wouldn’t have left me high and dry up there at the house. How about you try being honest for once. If not with me, then with yourself.” She storms off, stripping her little white cutoff shorts in the process and ripping her teal cami over her head before I can blink. She runs into the water with that tease of a bikini on full display, leaving her clothes behind to collect sand. Several guys turn and vie for her attention, trying to chat her up as she moves toward a group of girls. I feel something come over me as I see their eyes following her. I can’t explain it, but I know I can’t let any of those fuckers touch her. She’s mine. Where the hell did that come from?
