The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 56: Chapter 56

By the time she was done cutting the hair on his head, Reg had to admit he looked about a million times better. He would never underestimate the skills of a unisex hairstylist again.
She was an absolute genius. With nimble and efficient swipes of her shears, Gretchen had cut and groomed his unruly locks to perfection. She’d shaved the sides and back all the way to the skin on his scalp. Leaving the top long enough to reach his chin.
He’d never have dared go so short on his own, but he had to admit, he loved it. It revealed the tattoo on the back of his neck, making it look even better in his opinion. His Regular barber, Lou, was old school.
Everyone pretty much got the same fade, but Gretchen here gave him an edge with this style haircut. She’d made him look good in a way that was reminiscent of modern soccer players everywhere. He kinda dug the sport.
Especially, after Hunter had organized an in-Pride version of the World Cup last summer. It was awesome, and Reg’s team had won with a single glorious goal made by Mikey in the last ninety seconds of the match. Brayden, who’d played goalkeeper for the opposing team, had been super pissed.
Good times, he smirked. He was more focused on the present, which was much more interesting in his opinion, than on replaying that soccer match in his head.
The ever lovely Gretchen was running her hands through his hair again and the platonic contact shot straight to his dick. Thank fuck the cape he wore covered that part of him.
She seemed to like the length on top and was busy focusing on the thick and long hair, pulling it forward in glossy waves. Thankfully, she didn’t leave them there. He’d worried at first that he was going to get itchy with his hair in his face, but he hadn’t wanted to offend her.
He’d fucking glue it there if she wanted him to, but the sexy woman seemed to sense that. Watching his reaction in the mirror, she smirked and used a little product then tossed the thick waves back off his forehead. He liked that even better.
Every time she moved her fingers through his hair, he got a whiff of her intoxicating scent. His Tiger, ever present, was surer than he’d ever been since he first set eyes on her that she was meant to be his.
“Now for that beard,” Gretchen muttered, moving to stand in front of him.
This female was his fated mate. It was enough to blow his head clean off. He wanted to sing and dance and scream all at the same time. Well, mostly, he wanted to toss her fine ass over his shoulder and run away with her. It was a near thing.
She was so close, right there, scant inches away, and yet, she didn’t seem to be affected at all.
Sure, Reg had expected to be mated to a Shifter, but maybe that was prejudiced of him. Elissa had been a human before the Puspa, and he assumed Gretchen was too, but maybe he was wrong.
Could she be descended from a line of Witches? He would have guessed she was something magical, for sure, just by the way she seemed to have him mesmerized. But so far, he’d been unable to identify exactly what if any supernatural heritage, the little vixen had in her blood line.
He blamed it on the styling products and cleaning solutions that were thick in the air. Worse now that more people surrounded them. After she’d shampooed and conditioned his hair, her staff had started to arrive. They made the introduction and went to work cleaning and getting their stations ready.
After that, a steady stream of clients had signed in and were waiting their turns patiently, using the time to gossip and catch up. He’d heard their idle chit chat like a dull buzzing in the background, but his focus was on Gretchen herself.
She was a puzzle. A total mystery to him. One he desperately wanted to solve. Reg needed to. He just had to know everything about her.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologized, returning after stopping to show one of the new employees how to use the credit card machine.
His sweet Gretchen, whatever she was, was not only gorgeous, he realized, but she was smart and funny. A real people person and terrific with her employees who seemed to warm to her immediately.
“No really, thank you for being so sweet,” she said, and he wanted to yowl in pleasure.
She thinks I’m sweet. How about that?!
“I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am at the amount of times I’ve had to stop. If you like, I can have one of the other stylists finish the job,” she started.
Hell to the no.
There was only one person he wanted touching his hair, his face, any part of him, and that was her.
“Thank you for offering, shona. But no, I’ll wait for you. However long it takes,” he murmured.
She cocked her head and nodded at him. The term of endearment familiar to his kind, had accidentally slipped from his tongue. He couldn’t take it back now. Fuck that. He did not want to take it back.
She was his shona. His sweetheart. The one bright spot in his life.
Yes, his heart squeezed in his chest at the acknowledgement.
Gretchen was his whole heart. She just didn’t know it yet. He waited, albeit impatiently, until she came back with a dish of shaving butter and a hot towel in her hands. She used the clipper to trim down the uneven mess that was his beard first. Then, she wrapped the hot towel on his face and mixed the butter to a froth.
He watched as she sharpened a straight-edged razor the old fashioned way, and he was immediately impressed. Gretchen removed the towel, standing in front of him, leaning over to reach his skin as she applied the foam to his cheeks, chin, and neck.
Fucking hell. He was going to go off like a volcano at her unwittingly provocative display. Gretchen held the razor up. For a moment, he wondered if this was a good idea, cocking her head to the side as if trying to find the right angle.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, cheeks going pink as she tapped his knees.
Reg could hardly stop the low purr in his throat as he moved his knees apart, allowing the slip of a woman to move between them.
“There we go,” she whispered, spreading more frothy cream on his upper lip.
Reg held still. It was all he could do while that certain part of him hardened like a steel rod. The damn thing was throbbing, aching so for her. Hell, it threatened to burst through his pants.
Fuck. This is not a good idea. He thought, but the Tiger disagreed.
Oh, yes, it is. A very good idea. Mine.
Reg had to work doubly hard to push the beast back. His Tiger had identified her as his fated mate and now the beast wanted him to claim the feisty beauty. He just needed to wait for the right time to talk to her.
Gretchen studied him, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her bountiful breasts rustled the fabric of his cape, and he shuddered at the almost contact.
“Cold?”
“Uh, no.”
“Okay. Hold still,” she whispered.
Reg inhaled, the foamy mixture smelled of peppermint, and some other woodsy spice he couldn’t name. It was light, and pleasant, but he wished it was unscented. He’d much rather get another lungful of her.
“Damn, Gretch, you give that close a shave to everyone? Cause then I’m next, girl,” Marion, a friendly thirty-something male with thick-rimmed glasses and spiky black hair called out.
He was one of her new stylists, and had introduced himself as Marion the Gay Blade, a tribute to his favorite Zorro movie, he’d said while holding up his rainbow colored scissors. Reg went to look at the male, a snarl on his lips, but Gretchen held him still.
“Don’t move,” she chided, grinning at her new worker’s shenanigans. “Hey, Marion, your poster is falling,” she told the male who shrieked and went to apply more tack to the back of his ten by ten image of the movie in question.
“Now, George, you stay put, honey, you know I need you,” he told the image of George Hamilton dressed in an avocado green Zorro costume.
Normally, Reg would have laughed his ass off. He liked that classic film. But for some reason, his first instinct had him wanting to tear the fucker’s head off.
Jealousy was a new emotion for him. One he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew Shifters tended to be possessive when they found their mates, but he hadn’t truly understood the sensation until just then. After all, he’d never wanted to claim anyone before her.
Mine. Mate.
“Okay, now, I have a straight razor against your throat, no sudden moves, got it?” she commanded.
“Yes ma’am,” his lips twitched, but he didn’t dare grin.
Gretchen narrowed her baby blues, so different from his own dark eyes, as she started to move the cold metal against his overheated skin. Oh yeah, Reg had a fever alright, and there was only one cure for it. Her.
Corny, but true. He needed her badly. His Tiger chuffed at the way she ordered him to stay still, the beast enjoying her bossy side. He’d never liked dominant women before, but if she wanted to tell him what to do, he was game.
It was pretty damn sexy. She moved with the same quick, efficient strokes against his face as she had his hair. Wielding the razor expertly, she didn’t nick him once. Not even a little.
“There, all done,” she said, and pulled back way too soon for his liking. She quickly returned, thank fuck, and wiped away the remaining shave butter with a warm, damp towel.
Next, she splashed a little aftershave on his skin that made him tingle. Or was that her?
“I mix this myself with some essential oils that are good for tightening pores and nourishing the skin,” she said.
“That’s good,” he muttered, not really sure what the hell he was saying. He just wanted her to never stop petting him like that.
She pursed her lips, trying not to grin, and he noticed the cutest little dimple at the corner of her mouth. Totally kissable. He couldn’t wait to test that theory himself.
She was talking again though, and he brought his attention back to her. Nodding as if he had any clue what she’d been saying. Not like he could just admit he’d gotten side-tracked with thoughts of kissing her mouth, her breasts, fuck, everywhere. There he went again. Reg was having a difficult time keeping his one track mind out of the gutter.
“It’s completely natural with bergamot, peppermint, and eucalyptus essential oils. All great for healing, and moisturizing the skin,” she explained as she rubbed the oil onto his neck and face.
Dear gods, if she didn’t stop touching him, he’d never be able to stand up again.
Might as well accept the fact he was going to have to live with a permanent hardon until he found a moment to speak to her about their situation. But how did he go about that exactly?
“Okay, so, just meet me at the counter when you’re ready, and I will ring you up,” she said, and unsnapped the cape, shaking the stray hair onto the floor.
She spun around grabbing the broom and swept the floor around the chair. Reg stood up and rearranged his t-shirt, making sure to drape over the obvious bulge in his pants.
Hopefully, he did it in time to save himself some embarrassment. Of course, Marion had turned at that very moment and winked at him. Reg just shook his head.
Gretchen was already finished, placing the broom and dustpan against the wall as she handed him a piece of paper with the price of the haircut and shave scrawled across it. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and waited until she was looking at him to take the plunge.
“Hey, uh, Gretchen?”
“Yeah?”
“Uh, I was wondering if you would go out with me, like tonight,” he blurted as she ran his credit card through the machine.
“Excuse me?” she asked, pausing with his card in her hand. Her baby blues were open wide, and her plump pink lips parted slightly.
She looked so fucking sexy. He wanted to reach over, grab her by the face and kiss the fuck out of her until they were both panting with need.
“Sorry, I⁠—”
“No, it’s me. You see, I’m trying to ask you out and doing a bad job of it, I guess. But what do you say?”
Reg rubbed the back of his neck.
“Wait, what?”
“You? Me? Food?”
“Uh…”
“Come out with me, Gretchen. Have dinner with me tonight,” he said, finally.
Seconds passed, and when she still hadn’t responded, Reg began to grow uncomfortable. Hell, his heart was liable to pound him to death in the interim.
“Gretchen, answer that giant man before I do,” Marion hissed, clearly listening in on them.
“Shh,” she snapped at him, before turning to Reg. “You want to take me out on a date?” she echoed.
“Damn, boss lady, you are quick. You sure are,” Marion replied, rolling his heavily made-up eyes.
He walked over to where Gretchen was standing behind the counter and took the credit card from her hand since she seemed to have forgotten it.
At first, Reg wasn’t so happy about the way the guy was loud and flirty, but he recognized it as playful banter. He was funny and was obviously a friend.
“There you go, Mr. Cray. Sign here. Now, boss lady, you just say yes now so this sexy man can leave, and get on with his day,” Marion replied and winked at Reg. He also whistled wolfishly, looking Reg up and down and shaking his head. Reg blushed at the appraisal, hoping he made the grade.
“Yeah, say yes, Gretchen,” Reg added, nodding in agreement.
He grinned wickedly at the object of his affections, liking the way she seemed surprised by his question. Reg didn’t mind being admired by Marion or anyone else, but his focus was on Gretchen. He wanted her approval and hers alone. A pink blush crept across her cheeks and his heart raced at the sight.
Damn, she was pretty.
“Um, okay, yeah, sure,” she finally agreed.
“Great. I’ll pick you up tonight at 8. Is that alright?”
“Yes,” Marion prompted.
“Um, yeah that is fine. We close at 7, so 8 is good. I live upstairs, the entrance is right on the side of the salon,” she said and pointed.
“Fantastic, I’ll see you then,” Reg replied, reaching out to touch her hand gently. He smiled and let go reluctantly.
“Alright,” she said and waved goodbye.
Once he was outside, in the brisk spring air, doubt began to set in. Holy crap. Reg had a date with the most important woman in the entire world.
She was to him, at any rate.
Gretchen Kaepernick, he bit his lip as he played her name in his mind over and over again, picturing her curvy, petite frame, and her fascinating baby blue eyes. Finally, he’d found his one true mate. The person he was destined to be with forever.
Gulp.
He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Reg needed a strategy. A surefire way to woo his mate. A perfect plan to trap her in his more than willing arms for all time.
Yes, we need to set the purrfect trap, his Tiger agreed.
As a hunter, the animal inside him appreciated this line of thinking. Now he just had to execute it.