The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

“Thank you, um, but I would prefer to give my stylists the first clients. You know, to build confidence in the shop.”
“Well, they aren’t here yet, right? I don’t have much time, and well, Gretchen,” he said her name, voice dropping even lower, and she shivered in response. “I would really love it if you could take care of me.”
“Uh, I’m not sure-”
“Please?”
Shit. He’d used the magic word. Gretchen was a sucker for a softly spoken please. She cleared her throat and nodded. Part of her was jumping up and down with excitement.
Heck yeah, she could take care of him. All. Night. Long.
Eeek! No. Bad girl.
Now was not the time for naughty bedroom thoughts. She had a head of hair to save and a face to uncover underneath all that scratchy scruff. She didn’t mind facial hair on a man, but this guy’s beard and mustache needed to be taken in hand. As in, it needed to go.
“Okay, well if you insist,” she replied and walked back over to where she’d sat him down.
“Thank you,” he said, flashing a panty-melting grin her way.
Day-yum.
His smile should come with a warning label, she thought as she readjusted the cape around his neck when she realized it was cutting into his skin. She unsnapped it, then redid it on a larger setting.
Or tried to anyway. Sheesh, he had a really thick neck.
“Is that too tight?”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, and seemed to purr as she ran her hands through his hair.
“Hmm. I can see you washed it this morning, but I’d like to go over it again, if that is alright? I have some great products that would work wonders with hair as thick as yours.”
She spun the chair around and tipped it back, turning on the water from the specialty sinks she’d had replaced. Then Gretchen proceeded to build a good lather in his hair with some of the special avocado oil and mint shampoo she’d decided to carry.
The product line was very good, in her humble opinion. It was new and sulfate-free. The owner boasted only the best organic ingredients, and the scents were out of this world. Gretchen was hooked.
Her sexy new client seemed to watch her every move with blue eyes dark as midnight. She caught her breath, lost in the fathomless and faintly glowing orbs. They were almost magical, she thought, shaking her head to clear it.
Gretchen swallowed hard and cleared her throat. Just great, she thought. The fucker was so damn hot, now she was seeing things that weren’t there.
“Oof,” she bumped her hip on the sink and grimaced.
“You okay?” his concern unsettled her.
Darn it.
He was making her nervous. Gretchen was tempted to put soap in his eye just to get a break from that steady stare of his. Well, maybe some chit-chat would break the tension.
“Fine. Am I hurting you? Or is the chair uncomfortable?” she asked when she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you keep watching me like I’m going to make a mistake and get soap in your eye or something.”
“That’s not why I’m watching you, Gretchen,” he said, using her full name and making it sound sexier than she’d ever thought it could. “I just like the way you move.”
“Who me?” she asked.
“Yes, you,” he replied without hesitation.
His eyes flashed like blue lightning. The heat inside of them visible and Gretchen felt it all the way to her toes. Clearly, there was some physical chemistry going on here. She went back to his hair, trying to ignore him.
“I apologize if I made you self-conscious, but I can’t seem to stop staring. You’re really something else,” he murmured and seemed to be serious.
In a weak moment of self-doubt, Gretchen wondered if he were poking fun. Or worse, maybe someone put him up to it. She frowned.
“It’s okay. You’re not bothering me,” she fibbed, deciding to change the subject. “You know, you could really use a shave as well as a haircut. Did you burn yourself smoking or something?” she asked, running her hands over a patch that looked as if it were singed off.
“Uh, I don’t smoke. But yes, you’re right. Do you offer full service for men?”
“I do. Did you want full service?” she asked, and felt her blush spread across her cheeks at the innuendo.
Of course, that wasn’t what he meant. She finished rinsing his hair and towel dried it, pulling the seat into an upright position before leading him to her workstation.
He walked closely behind her, a little closer than was usual for her clients, but she remained calm. Or tried to. Truth was, he made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she wondered what it was he was playing at. Men like him didn’t usually stare at girls like her.
“Why, yes, Gretchen. I’d like that very much.”
“Okay then, I’d be happy to give you a cut and a shave,” she said with a tight smile. “So, is there anything you want done in particular?”
He sat down easily, watching her from the mirror, and Gretchen’s whole body felt as if he’d stroked it with those long fingers of his. Yeah, she had noticed them. There was just something about a man’s hands that spoke to her. He had great hands.
They were solid and big, rough, but not careless. She wondered what it would feel like if he touched her with intent with those big man’s hands of his.
Short, blunt nails topped each finger. They were surprisingly clean, cuticles and all. Gretchen could almost imagine the way they would tease and caress her most secret places. Her girly bits tingled, as if her whole body was blushing with awareness.
Did it just get really hot in here?
Gretchen tried not to stare as she adjusted the height of the chair. Hell, what good was not staring when he smelled better than a tray of double fudge brownies?
Whatever soap he used, she would swear there were hints of cocoa and vanilla bean. He smelled delicious. Good enough to nibble, she thought outrageously.
Her cheeks heated, and she knew she was blushing for real now. Biting her lip, she scolded herself. That was no way to think of a client.
It was time to get to work and stop this ridiculous fantasy of hers. She took his head in her hands and straightened it, using her fingers to brush back his rich, dark locks. With his hair combed out of the way, she finally got a good look at his face.
Dayum.
Reg Cray, whoever he was, was hot. Like really hot. Like really, really, someone get a fire extinguisher hot. When she was a teenager, she recalled crushing on movie and rock stars, but Reg was even better looking than them.
His nose was long and straight, but not too big. It fit his chiseled features, accented by his sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. His skin was tanned from the sun, like a golden honey color, but she could tell he was fair in winter. That hair of his was the real clincher though. His dark brown mop was unruly, but even that could not disguise the thick and glossy layers to his mane.
She wondered if he had any Latin or Italian blood. He must have to give him such gorgeous coloring. Her favorite feature were his eyes.
Lawd, have mercy.
Dark and glittering, his gorgeous eyes sparkled out at her through thick black lashes, like sapphires on a velvet swatch. Bedroom eyes if she ever saw a pair.
Beautiful. Sexy too.
There was no doubt about it. This guy was completely out of her league. Depressing as the thought was, it allowed her to focus as she lifted her comb and began creating sections out of the long tresses.
“Now, what has you making such a sad face, Gretchen? My hair can’t be that bad, can it?” he asked, joking with her. Gretchen lifted her head up and met his unwavering stare in the mirror.
“What? Oh, no, sorry, it’s nothing,” she replied, and smiled tightly. She went back to paying attention to what she was doing.
More hair, less stare.
There was no reason on earth for her thoughts to turn so personal. He was a client, not a potential hubby on her own personal version of the Bachelor.
“Okay, here is what I have in mind,” she talked, wanting his approval while she began trimming his locks with a scissor at first.
“You can do anything you want to me,” Reg said, eyes glowing.
A shiver ran through her. If only he knew what she wanted to do, she thought wickedly.
“You got it,” Gretchen replied, lifting her trimmer.
Last, she’d use a straight razor, but she’d wait to show him her skill with the blade. Concentrating was a bitch, but she’d get through it.
He was just a man, for fuck’s sake. A cute man, but a stranger, and more importantly, a customer.
That was all he was to her. Nothing special. Not fate or kismet. Just a client.
Liar, her inner voice whispered in her head and Gretchen almost dropped her shears.
That voice in her head could be such a heifer sometimes. She cleared her throat and got back to work, when she was done, Reginald Cray was going to look like a million dollars.
And then what? She wondered to herself. Of course, inner Gretchen had an answer.
Lick him. Then hang a sign around his neck that says property of Gretchen Kaepernick.
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. She really needed to get laid if she was going to fantasize about every man who walked into her salon.
Not every man, inner her replied. Just him.
Fucking fuck. It was gonna be a long day.