Page 47 of Forever Wild
“No.”
“I watched a few more tutorials last night just in case. I got this.”
“Did you also get a cosmetology license?”
I know that it’s irrational because I, in fact, do not have any sort of training and very little practice, but it still stings that he’s so adamant I can’t do it. All the whispers that I’m not good enough or smart enough play through my head and feel like a kick to the stomach.
My head drops and then he sighs.
“Fine,” he relents. “Just a trim. Nothing my regular barber can’t un-fuck.”
I kick those negative thoughts away and pull out a chair for him to sit. “It’ll be easiest if you wet your hair.”
With a sigh, he disappears, returning a couple minutes later with his hair freshly washed.
“I don’t have one of those fancy capes to keep the hair off your clothes,” I say as I get in position behind the chair.
He walks over to me, giving me his back before he pulls his T-shirt up over his head and tosses it out of the way.
The way his back muscles ripple with the movement makes my mouth go dry. I manage to squeak out, “Oh, right. That’ll work.”
At least it’s his back and not his front. I shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects while his abs are on display. That would be a recipe for a trip to the emergency room.
He sits down and the smell of his shampoo mixed with theproximity of him makes me more nervous.
“Everything okay?” he asks, making me realize too many seconds have passed with me staring at his broad shoulders and back.
“Yep,” I say quickly. Totally fine. I run my fingers through his hair. A huge mistake. It’s thick and soft and my body is having a strange reaction.
Okay, not strange. I’m turned the hell on.
I clear my throat and shake lust-filled thoughts from my head. I am a grown-ass woman and this is my brother’s teammate, not some random guy. I am going to keep it together and then I’m going to go out with Thor. Nice, sweet Thor whose family looks like one of those families that go on vacations together and have dinners together every Sunday.
That reminds me, I want to ask Ty about family dinners once every couple of weeks when the season starts up again. I’ll come back on some weekends, and I want to make the most of my time here. His schedule has gotten chaotic since Charlotte came along, and I don’t ever want us to lose the closeness we’ve regained over the past five years.
“You have nice hair,” I say once I’ve gotten ahold of myself.
He grunts his acknowledgment, and I tug the strands.
“Ow,” he protests.
“The polite thing is to say thank you.”
“Thanks,” he mutters.
I start to snip the ends in a meticulous and slow fashion. He’s quiet as I work and his body relaxes. His head too. It feels like an intimate moment, seeing him like this.
When I move to one side, I can see his eyes are closed. Long dark lashes fan out over his face and his lips are parted. He’s really beautifullike this. His features are angular and perfect. He has a small scar just above the bow of his upper lip. It’s faded into a white line that cuts through the slight stubble growing.
I cut another section and the hair falls onto his jaw. Reaching out with the hand not holding the scissors, I brush it off. His eyes open and lock onto me.
The softness in his face morphs back into the hard-ass hockey player I know, and I suck in a breath, pulse picking up speed.
Something passes between us. A heat and tension that I know I’m not making up in my head. He looks at me like he wants me the same way I want him. Except I know that can’t be true. He’s Jack Wyld. He can have anyone he wants.
He reaches up and circles my wrist, but I let my fingers rest on his jaw a moment longer. My thumb slowly rubs along the hard, scratchy skin, exploring.
“Ev.” His voice is a gruff warning that I don’t heed.
