Page 3 of Touchdown
Lorna leaned over Missy’s shoulder, a delighted smile spreading across her face. “Huh. Saxon Powell. Interesting.”
I gave her a look. “Don’t even start.”
“Start what?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Missy cut in, “I hope it’s okay that I shortened your lunch break.”
“It’s fine,” I reassured her. “I’d prefer to take less time to eat than turn away a customer.”
She nodded. “Gotcha.”
Lorna pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s going to be so hard to eat a sandwich right before a gorgeous football player stares at you for thirty minutes. I don’t know how you’ll survive.”
I crouched to straighten my combs, using the motion to hide my flaming cheeks. “He probably just thought about the salon because Cole has been talking it up.”
“My husband is awesome like that,” Lorna quickly agreed, her smile widening. “But that doesn’t explain why Saxon asked for you.”
I busied myself checking the product display in the waiting area…even though I’d just inventoried it a few days ago. “Whatever.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her tone was pure smug amusement, and I refused to take the bait. But there was no denying my stomach did a little nervous flip because Saxon Powell was coming here. To my chair.
And if he was anything like I remembered—tall, quiet, and intense—I was in serious trouble.
Luckily, my morning schedule was jam-packed, so I didn’t have time to worry about Saxon’s appointment. The hours passed in a blur of trims, blowouts, and color touch-ups, but every time the bell over the door jingled, my stomach gave a stupid little jump.
While I ate my sandwich in the back, I’d half convinced myself that Saxon probably wasn’t coming after all. That his schedule changed. Or something.
Then the bell chimed again just as I was leaving my office in the back. Missy called out a bright, “Welcome!”
Every hair on my arms stood, as though a current ran through my body. I looked up and spotted Saxon in the doorway. His chiseled jaw was clean-shaven, and his full lips were too sinfully kissable for my own good. He pulled off his cap, and I took in how his light-brown hair was cut shorter on the sides and just long enough on top to run my fingers through.
When he lifted his head, I caught the glint of his intense hazel eyes scanning the room before they locked on me.
The air left my lungs in one long exhale.
He was confident in a way that came from already having the world at your feet. A man who’d been places, done things, and didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. Which only made him seem even more out of my league. I was only twenty-one and still trying to make a name for myself.
My pulse tripped over itself when he headed straight for my station like he’d been here a hundred times.
“Hey.” His greeting was low and rough, sending a thrill of awareness through my body.
“Hi,” I managed, forcing what I hoped was a professional smile. “You made it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a way that was both messy and unfairly hot. “Thanks for making time for me.”
“No problem.” I gestured toward the chair, thankful my hands weren’t shaking. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
He did, his gaze finding mine in the mirror. The quiet between us stretched, thick with only the sound of the blow-dryers behind us.
“So…” I cleared my throat and reached for my comb. “Just a cleanup for media day?”
“Yeah, PR stuff.” His eyes didn’t leave my reflection. “Figured I should look decent if they’re gonna point a camera at me.”
I laughed a little too quickly. “You look good to me.”
His lips twitched. “Thanks.”
