Page 13 of Piston

FIVE

JENNY

I snipthe last lock of blonde hair and step back to survey my work. Not bad considering my mind was nowhere near this damn salon.

"Alright Carol, you're all set," I said flatly. "Same time next month?"

Carol squinted at her reflection in the mirror, lips pursing. "Maybe a little more off the back next time." She shrugged. "But it'll do. Thanks, Jenny."

I cleaned up quickly, sweeping hair clippings and tossing towels in the hamper with more force than necessary. Closing time couldn't come soon enough. All I wanted was to go home, crack open a beer, and stop thinking about him. Stop picturing the leggy brunette draped all over Piston at Perdition last week.

Fuck, even her name pissed me off. Candy. Who the hell names their kid Candy? Probably the same idiots who unleash a wild animal like Piston on the female population.

I jabbed the broom into the dustpan with a scowl. It wasn't like we were together. Hell, we'd barely exchanged more than grunts and glares at the clubhouse. But that night, the wayhe looked at me across the bar...I thought maybe there was something more between us.

Stupid. Men like Piston didn't go for girls like me. They went for bimbos named after sugary treats apparently. So why couldn't I stop replaying that scene in my head? The flash of heat in his eyes, followed by the knife-twist of watching him leave with her.

I tossed the broom aside with a clatter. Screw him. Screw the whole lot of them at Perdition. I didn't need their bullshit complicating my life. I had enough problems without mixing it up with bikers who only knew how to bring trouble.

Easier said than done though. Every rev of a motorcycle engine made my pulse jump, wondering if it was him. Wondering why I even cared. I couldn't avoid the club forever. Dagger would start asking questions soon. But maybe a few more days...

The chime of bells snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up to tell whoever it was that we were closed, but the words evaporated on my tongue.

Piston filled the doorway, all hard muscles and dark ink. His icy blue gaze locked on mine and I felt that familiar clench low in my belly. Shit.

I forced my expression into careful neutrality, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. What the hell was he doing here?

"We're closed," I said, my voice flat.

Piston stepped inside anyway, letting the door swing shut behind him. "Need a trim. Figured you could squeeze me in."

I raised an eyebrow. "And I figure you've got some nerve showing up here unannounced."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "Never been known for my manners, darlin'."

I bristled at the endearment, crossing my arms over my chest. "Fifteen minutes. That's all you get."

He shrugged off his cut and settled into the chair, his broad shoulders nearly swallowing the leather. I draped the cape around him with stiff movements, trying to ignore the heat radiating off his body.

As I picked up the scissors, Piston caught my gaze in the mirror. "Been a minute since I saw you 'round the clubhouse."

I focused on the first snip of hair, keeping my expression blank. "Been busy."

"Too busy for your friends?"

I could feel the weight of his stare, but I refused to meet it. "Dagger ain't my keeper. I got my own life."

Piston was quiet for a moment. Then, "This about the other night?"

My fingers tensed around the scissors. I didn't want to have this conversation. Didn't want to pick at the scab of my bruised ego.

"Ancient history," I bit out. "Like I said, been busy."

Piston's jaw ticked. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.

"You want this haircut or not? Cause we can keep talking and I can take a hell of a lot more off the top."

His lips twitched. "Shutting up now."

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