Page 2 of Touchdown
Then, as they continued to describe what they wanted me to do, a light bulb went off. A swift realization that cut through therestless energy and locked everything inside me into one single perfect line of focus.
If I accepted—as fucking obnoxious as that would be—this would involve cameras. I would need to look “photo ready.” Which meant I had a logical, not creepy reason to book an appointment for a haircut.
Today.
There was silence on the other end of the phone when I immediately agreed. The rep sounded entirely too excited when they promised to send me the information. I’d have to make sure my agent made it clear that this was not the new normal.
After hanging up, I walked to the windows again. The city was nearly full daylight now, and as I watched the growing hustle and bustle below, something inside my chest uncoiled with a slow, powerful ease. The restless energy that had been ricocheting around inside me finally found an outlet.
I returned to the kitchen, set my coffee mug in the sink, then picked up my phone again. Ten minutes later, I had an appointment with Ivy shortly after lunch. I’d been extremely specific about the stylist I wanted.
Walking back to my bedroom, I stripped off my shirt and tossed it into the laundry bin. My bedroom was all dark slate and brushed steel. Masculine lines and soft lighting, everything clean and minimal because I hated visual clutter.
I removed my sweats, and they joined my shirt in the hamper before I padded into the en suite bathroom. Once I stepped into the shower, I inhaled slowly as the hot water pounded across my shoulders. The scent of my eucalyptus razor cream and cedar shampoo filled the air, but every time I shut my eyes, I still saw the image of her face—the flash of her smile and how her teeth had caught her bottom lip when she was listening intently.
I had also seen sparks behind her perceptive brown eyes. Subtle, but enough to make it clear that the attraction was not one-sided.
I imagined her standing behind me in the chair, close enough to fill my lungs with her scent as I watched her reflection in the mirror, cataloging every slight shift in her expression.
I could almost feel her fingers sliding through my hair while she cut it, the tips brushing the ridge of my neck, and the delicate inside of her wrist hovering near my jaw.
My pulse spiked again as every cell in my body lit up. “Shit.”
Groaning, I twisted the handle on the wall and hissed when the hot water suddenly became frigid. I had to keep my ass in check because going feral was not an option. Yet.
2
IVY
The salon was just about ready to open for the morning by the time I finished my second latte. I let out a low hum of appreciation as I enjoyed the last sip. Across the room, Lorna was laughing at something our receptionist said.
The sound tugged a smile out of me before I even realized it. My former roommate was happier than she’d ever been, and it was all due to the football coach she’d fallen head over heels for when I’d dragged her out to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. Now she was married, pregnant, and the proud owner of a new salon in Long Island.
My life had also taken a turn for the better when her husband offered me a ridiculous amount of money to help Lorna with The Color Loft. Not that she was content to leave my happiness to my paycheck. She wanted me to have what she’d found with Cole…which was why she kept bugging me about the wide receiver she insisted was into me. Even though I hadn’t heard a word from him since we met a few days ago.
As though she’d read my mind, Lorna teased, “He text you yet?”
I groaned but didn’t bother to try to act as though I didn’t know exactly who she was talking about. “The guy who probably forgot I existed the second he left and doesn’t even have my phone number? No.”
“You are so wrong.” Lorna rolled her eyes. “And I wasn’t the only one who saw how Saxon looked at you. Cole did, too.”
My cheeks heated. “He was just being polite to his coach’s wife’s best friend and probably doesn’t even remember my name by now.”
She arched a brow. “Go ahead and keep pretending that man isn’t going to try to sweep you off your feet. You’ll see how right I am soon enough.”
I ignored her and focused on double-checking the supplies at my station. Saxon Powell was grumpy, gorgeous, and out of my league. Whatever that look had been, it wasn’t what Lorna and Cole thought.
I wasn’t paying too close attention when the phone at the front desk started ringing. Missy answered, and I tuned out the low murmur of her voice while I grabbed my tablet to go over my list of appointments for the day. It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later when she called my name that I looked up again.
“I squeezed a client into your schedule just after lunch.”
“One of my regulars?” I asked.
Missy shook her head with a grin. “A Nighthawks player asking for a same-day appointment. Says he needs a media-day cleanup.”
Lorna’s head lifted, her eyes sparkling. “Really?”
Missy nodded. “And he specifically requested Ivy.”
