Page 52 of Hero Hair
Charlotte hugs me briefly and pushes me back toward the door.
“I have to get ready for my own date. It’s number two, though, so I won’t get to have as much fun as you,” Jasmine adds.
Stupid, stupid rules. I can’t fault them that much because I’m in a completely different place now that I followed along with their guidelines. I’d admit defeat before I admit they might hold some merit.
“You guys do realize I’ve banged a guy before, right?” I ask.
Carina smiles.
“Not one like him,” Charlotte cackles. “That man is intimidatingly beautiful.”
I shrug. “Not everyone can be as lucky as us,” I say, nodding at Carina.
She blushes. I close the door behind me and exit into the warm SoCal breeze. It will get colder by the minute at this point.
I text Macs a photo of my steering wheel, the German emblem barely visible in the low light. It doesn’t take long to get to his house using the freeway. Less than ten minutes later, I’m pulling into his driveway with shaking hands and a roiling stomach. Did I eat acid tinged lettuce for lunch? Silently I give myself a pep talk as I pull my hair elastic out.
I flip down my mirror and fix my face using the few items I keep in my handbag. Mascara needs another coat. Blush for color I surely won’t need in t-minus five minutes, ChapStick instead of gloss. Gloss gets messy on dicks and lips. I’m comforted by the fact I’m going through the motions. This is what I would do before any normal date. Nothing is odd about my appearance or preparation. It’s comforting.
It’s everything inside me that is strange. He won’t see that part, though. “Breathe, Teala,” I whisper.
Locking my car using the fob, I sling my leather bag over my shoulder and head for his front door. Many of the tools and construction equipment that was here the first time I came over, is now gone. I’m able to see how truly beautiful his house is. Macs is leaning against the doorframe when I round the corner. I startle.
“Hi.”
“Hi back,” Macs replies.
He’s shirtless, with a pair of lounge pants riding low on his chiseled, narrow hips. Even with a quick glance I see the outline of his cock hanging against his leg. I don’t let my gaze stray anywhere too long, and when I meet his eyes, he’s still studying me through narrow, hungry eyes.
“That was fast. Did you speed?”
I take a few more steps until I’m standing in the light shining in front of his door. “I never break the law.”
One brow rises in surprise. “I’d like to agree to disagree on that one. I’m pretty sure that body is illegal in every continent.” He runs his gaze up and down my height one more time, but it’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes this time. There’s nothing subtle and he doesn’t care if I know what he’s doing. With his lip still tucked into his mouth he motions for me to come in.
I’m still shaking my head at his bad pick-up line as I brush against him and into his house. It’s clean. Immaculately so. There’s no sawdust scent or unfinished pieces of random projects in sight. He must sense me judging the space because he clears his throat from behind me. I’m startled back into reality.
“You cleaned?”
“You noticed,” he says.
A white candle is burning softly in the corner of the room on a polished wooden table. There’s a shaggy rug beneath his coffee table now and the kitchen is finished.
“Figured if we were making it special, we shouldn’t fuck in a construction site.” There’s laughter in his voice, but I hear the seriousness too.
This means a lot to him. More than he thinks tonight is worth. I’m not even sure the proper level of enthusiasm that should be shown. He stands next to me, and I take his large, hard hand in mine.
“It looks beautiful. You’re right. If it were a construction zone, I’d demand you get out the GoPro and film us for a pay to play porn site. Construction babe gets drilled. Think of the possibilities. The tools,” I say, raising one brow.
When I meet his gaze, I can tell I made the right call by using humor. His shoulders relax and he kisses the top of my head. He calls me some sexual pet name, but I don’t respond in favor of surveying the rest of the space.
“I got most of it finished with Tahoe, but the cleaning was all me,” he explains, puffing out his chest. “Make yourself comfortable. Wine?”
I nod and smile what I think is a reassuring gesture and take a seat on the couch. Suddenly the bow-chicka-wow-wow phase has arrived and I’m uncomfortable. Because this is how all my normal dates start out. There’s nothing different. The wine. The effort. Everything. He just wants into my pants.
“Do you know me?” I blurt out frantically. “Truly know me?”
He picks his gaze up from a shining wine glass to meet my eyes. He’s unsurprised by my line of questioning, like maybe he anticipated my crazy and he’s ready to defuse it.
