Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ella

"Try one of these, honey," Donna says, offering me a cookie. "George said they might even be better than my chocolate chip."

"Blasphemy," I tell her lightly, but I'm not the type of girl to turn down a cookie, and especially not one of Donna's, so I snag one from the container and take a big bite.

Flavor explodes on my tongue—salty and sweet, peanut butter and chocolate chip, sea salt and just a hint of caramel.

"Oh. My. God ," I moan.

Her smile widens. "I see that George may be right."

"More than right," I tell her, shoving the rest of the delicious baked good in my mouth. "He's a genius."

Donna giggles. "I'll edit that so it doesn't go to his head."

I wink, steal another cookie, and salute her with it. "Wise woman. Now," I tell her, "I need to hear all about George and how he suddenly gets to have an opinion about your cookies."

Pink on Donna's cheeks, but it looks good on her. Especially when it's paired with a brightness in her eyes, and a joy to her words.

Grinning, my gaze goes to Tammy's, who's busy with her own client (who's also munching on one of Donna's yummy cookies), but we exchange a nod of job-well-done.

Matchmaking powers leveled up.

I make sure Donna's sleek bob is perfectly coiffed for her dinner with George tonight—why she came in late in the afternoon instead of her typical morning slot—and I'm so focused on the task at hand that I don't realize the bell over the door has rung, don't realize that Kit, who's manning the front desk like usual, has gone still and silent.

Eventually, though, I process that the blow dryer next to me has turned off, that the salon is almost silent.

Frowning, I turn around?—

And Riggs is standing just inside the door.

Riggs .

The juxtaposition is almost comical.

Big, bearded hockey player meets the soft white, lavender, and gold of the salon.

Tattoos and sweatpants versus color-coded products and samples of hair extensions.

Both sights are beautiful in their own right…

But I only want to fuck one.

Okay, fine. I only want to fuck Riggs . Like maybe forever.

Which is a terrifying thought, but before panic can make me do something stupid, Kit jerks into motion, breaking the quiet that's fallen. "Can I…um…help you?"

The last comes out in a squeak.

A squeak that jars me into motion.

I set down my scissors, turn fully toward the front desk, eyes glued to Riggs as he moves forward, limbs loose, demeanor completely confident and relaxed. He plunks his elbows on the high counter. "I'm looking for a haircut," he tells Kit, eyes flicking to mine and holding for a heartbeat before returning to Kit's. "Can you help me with that?"

"I-uh—" Kit starts typing on the computer but doing it so frantically that he knocks the wireless keyboard to the floor.

Luckily, he has a rubber mat where he stands, so I don't think it's damaged as I walk over and put him out of his misery, sweeping it up, setting it back on the shelf. "I'll help Riggs, honey," I say softly, setting my hand on Kit's back.

He nods as he turns to me, not saying anything until he's fully facing me.

Then he mouths, " This is Riggs?"

And, yeah, I don't miss the sparkle in Kit's eyes…nor the determination—and I know that I'm going to be required to give a full report at the soonest opportunity.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter under my breath before I nudge him to the side with my hip, tapping away at the keyboard and deliberately making my tone no-nonsense and business-like.

Even though, inside, I'm melting.

Riggs is here. Here.

"Hmm," I tell him, heart pounding so hard it feels like it's trying to claw up the back of my throat. "My schedule's pretty full." I begin tapping again, shaking my head before looking up at Riggs with a sad expression that I can barely keep in place because of the mirth gathering in my belly. "Maybe—" More tapping and then I sigh. "Nope." I tsk. "That won't work."

Kit is practically vibrating next to me, and I don't know if it's with laughter—because I haven't so much as bothered to bring up my schedule—or because my tapping on the keyboard means that I might mess something up in the intricate system he uses to run the salon.

I don't get the chance to find out.

Or to mess anything up.

Because Riggs leans across the counter, one big hand settling on mine.

My eyes fly up, lock with his, breath hitching.

"I'll pay double."

And I know that he doesn't mean with money.

My pussy clenches, knees wobbling, but I just lift my chin, not quite sure why I'm playing this game, but also loving it, loving that Riggs is playing along, loving the sensual retribution in his eyes.

Wanting him to knock the computer to the floor, to lift me up on the counter and fuck me senseless.

Wanting the salon to be empty so he can do that.

Wanting…

Him.

Just him .

"Here you go, honey," Donna says, coming up behind me and jarring me out of my sexual stupor. She passes me a couple of bills, and I mutely take them before she pats me on the cheek. "See you next week." Then turns to Riggs, her stare slow and assessing before her gaze flicks back to mine, her eyes sparkling. She lifts the container of cookies toward him. "Want a taste?"

Slowly, he smiles.

But he's not looking at Donna as he reaches forward and takes a cookie, and he's not directing his rasped-out words to her either.

Nope.

They're all for me.

"Yes, I want a taste."

My knees nearly buckle.

Then again when his lips slowly close around the cookie, as he chews and swallows, the strong cords of his throat working. As his tongue flicks out and captures an errant crumb clinging to his beard.

Fuck .

It's suddenly sweltering in here.

"Thank you," he tells Donna. "That's delicious."

Her eyes drift to mine again. Her smile grows.

"Enjoy." She plunks the container on the counter and I distantly hear the bell ring as she walks out, as I try to come up with something to say, something witty and funny and?—

"Ella has room for a haircut tonight!" Kit blurts.

Or not.

It's amazing how quickly a salon can empty out.

One second, Donna and Tammy and her client and Kit are all here, and the next I'm alone with Riggs, his deep brown eyes locked on mine in the mirror.

Somehow I've managed to get Riggs a cape, to sweep it out in front of his body and fasten it around his throat.

And now I'm standing behind him, staring at his handsome reflection, at those gorgeous eyes, that kissable mouth, the tattoos licking up the sides of his neck and…I'm just staring.

Focus, woman .

I exhale silently through my nose, focus on my job.

I'm so not giving this man a bad haircut.

Because if I do, I will never hear the end of it from Kit and Tammy, from Knox and Nova. Not to mention what Lake and the rest of the Sierra will say if I fuck up.

Plus…

I've been dying to get my hands on Riggs's hair.

Dying to even out the locks that kiss his nape, the shorter strands that always fall over his forehead, beckoning for my fingers to push them back into place.

This is my time.

So, I focus.

"What do you want done?" I ask softly, sinking my fingers into his hair, stroking through the locks that are like silk. His body goes stiff, a muscle in his jaw flexing, and I might have frozen, might have pulled back…

If not for the way his eyes blaze at me in the mirror.

My thighs tremble.

Gorgeous man.

"What would you do?" he asks quietly.

I sigh, continue to run my fingers through the strands for a moment as I study his face. "Pink highlights and keep the length."

For a second, my words don't seem to penetrate.

Then they do, his hand coming up to snag my wrist. "Always teasing me, aren't you, chérie ?" He brushes his thumb lightly over my skin.

My heart is pitter-pattering in my chest, but I ignore it. "I'm serious," I say, choking back laughter when his fingers tighten and he scowls at me. "Some soft pink tones would look beautiful with your skin."

All olive and yummy and lickable?—

"I think something else pink would look better on my skin."

I tremble.

And…

I come apart.