He looks behind me once more before looking up at the ceiling, drawing in a visible breath as if he’s trying to inhale patience. I’m guessing there’s a heavy make-out session happening behind me, so I’ll keep my eyes straight, but I can’t deny the internal fist pump on behalf of my girl. Especially in the middle of a club. She favours the shy side. If this Caleb guy unleashes a little of her inhibitions, I’m all for it.
Once I have my cocktail, I move further down to a quieter section of the bar to people watch. It’s not long before I’m pulling out my phone to scroll. My heart leaps a little from a text waiting for me.
THE ONLY VIKING YOU NEED: Keep those boots handy for the next time I’m over.
I giggle, remembering the selfie I sent him before we left the house of my cowgirl getup.
ME: Got yourself a cowgirl kink, do you?
Three dots immediately bounce across my screen, making beats stutter frantically in my chest.
THE ONLY VIKING YOU NEED: Just a you kink.
And there goes my heart. Little tramp, giving it up so easily. This is not the way we roll.
My palm does a frustrated glide down my face. There’s a divide between my head’s normally clear direction and my heart’s protest for connection. I can feel it pleading for just an iota of leniency in my crusade to deny the notion of domestication. I need to pull back, just to ensure I’m not getting in too deep here. I’m nowhere near ready to say goodbye to the orgasms, but my heart needs the reminder to stay in line.
With that decided, I’m about to put my phone back into my clutch when a call comes through from Trevor, the tech guy who works in the offices above the salon.
We traded numbers when I first signed my lease. I wanted to ensure he could talk to me if trades were disrupting his business. It was important to me to establish that friendly relationship from the get-go.
I waited eighteen months for the perfect space to open up on Main Street. There was no way I was going to fuck up my dream by tainting a relationship with other businesses who also rented in the building.
Given that it was nearing eleven, this call is a butt dial or an emergency.
Please be a butt dial.
I quickly answer the phone. “Just a sec, Trevor!” Racing through the bar, I make my way back to the quiet hallway we entered through. I stampede through the door, feeling as though I’m breathing in ice shards.
Man, I should probably try running now and then. I’m more of a marathon fucker than a runner, though.
“Sorry, Trev. What’s up?” I clutch at my side while I wait for my lungs to catch up.
“Claire. I’m so sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but building security called me.” Fuck, definitely not a butt dial. “A pipe has burst in my office, and unfortunately, it’s gone into your salon. Part of the ceiling has collapsed.”
“Oh my god!” Tears fill my eyes. This cannot be happening.
My floorboards were only just installed two days ago. They’re meant to dry for seven days to let the stain properly cure.
“I’m just waiting for a plumber to get here, but Arnie, the building security, knew where the shut-off switch for the water was, so it’s at least stopped running.
“Fuck. Okay, I’m on my way. I’m in the city, so I need to get a cab, but I should be there in around twenty minutes.”
“No worries. I’ll hold the fort until then.”
“Thanks, Trevor.”
I hang up and re-enter the bar to fight my way through the crowd to Lex.
I can see her standing right where I left her, still with Caleb and talking with another woman. A tiny, spitfire-looking thing with long, dark hair flowing down her back.
Her hands are waving around animatedly as she talks, but she’s going to have to wait.
“Lex!” I shout just as I reach them.
Like a beacon, she homes in on me, worried eyes taking in my panicked expression, no doubt.
She reaches for me, holding my hands in hers. “What? What happened?”