Page 8 of Touchdown
I stared at the thread until the screen dimmed, then quickly locked my phone and told myself to calm down. It wasn’t like Saxon had confessed his undying love. It was just a thoughtful message.
The butterflies in my stomach clearly hadn’t gotten the memo, because they were doing aerial stunts while I stood there grinning into my coffee.
My smile stayed on my face for the entire day.
No matter how many clients I had or how tired my feet got, it refused to fade. Every time I caught sight of my reflection, there it was again—this ridiculous, happy grin. I told myself it was just because it had been a good morning. But I kept sneaking glances at the clock, and my heart raced at every notification my phone dinged, hoping to see Saxon’s name again on the screen.
By the time I finished my last client, the salon was empty except for Lorna, who grinned at me.
“You’ve been unusually tight-lipped about Saxon driving you home,” she teased as her gaze darted over my shoulder. “But it looks like I’m going to have to wait until tomorrow to grill you about it.”
When I turned toward the front window, my breath caught. Saxon’s SUV was parked at the curb. He leaned against the hood, his hands tucked into the pockets of his thick winter coat. His head was bowed slightly, as though he had all the time in the world.
Lorna smirked. “I guess I don’t have to worry about you getting home safe.”
I shot her an exasperated look, but she was already walking toward the back. Biting my lip to keep from smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, I slipped on my coat and zipped it up, then tugged on a pair of gloves.
Stepping outside, I hugged my purse strap a little tighter as I locked the door behind me. When I turned, Saxon straightened, his quiet confidence wrapping around him like a second skin.
“You were waiting for me?”
“Figured I’d make sure you got home safe.” His tone was even as his gaze swept over me. “I’m heading back to the city anyway. Ride with me.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’ll only bother me if you don’t get in the car,” he insisted, a muscle jumping in his chiseled jaw.
“When you put it like that, how can I say no?”
I shook my head with a laugh as I walked to his SUV.
“I guess I got lucky that you were out here on Long Island again today.”
Saxon just shrugged and opened the door.
The leather seat was warm as I slid onto it, and the interior smelled like cedar and spice—a scent that I’d dragged into my lungs last night.
He waited until I buckled before shutting the door and circling the vehicle to climb into the driver’s side. When he pulled away from the curb, quiet filled the SUV. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy with awareness.
After a few blocks, I blurted, “I did all the talking last night, so now it’s your turn.”
That earned a low laugh that left goose bumps in its wake.
I stared at him. “Wow. He laughs. I wasn’t sure that was possible.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
He glanced sideways, his eyes gleaming. “What do you want to know about me?”
My cheeks heated under his stare. “Anything.”
He paused long enough that I wondered if he’d answer at all. “I was born in Maine. Grew up in a small town. My dad raised us after my mom left. My two younger sisters and me.”
“Really?” I twisted in my seat. “That explains why you’re so patient. Sisters’ll do that to you.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Or scar you for life.”
