Page 9 of Wild Curves
I hold my hands up placatingly. “I don’t plan on hurting her. Her parents are coming to town, and I want to make sure they have a good time.”
It’s kind of true. But I want to make sure Maggie has the best time. I want to give her the time of her fucking life and make her realize that I’m the man for her.
Travis shakes his head slowly. But he pulls up the schedule on his laptop.
“It’ll be tight, but we can manage.” Travis narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Arlo, but if I have to choose, you’ll be fired and not Maggie.”
Travis is a tough talker but he’s also a softy for love, having recently found it himself. I give him my best grin.
“Thanks, boss. Appreciate it.”
“You got a date or something?”
Snips smirks at me as I slide into the barber’s chair two days later. It may have been six months since I last had a haircut, but I’m not going to divulge my reasons for coming in here today.
“Can’t a man get a haircut for no reason other than wanting to look respectable?”
“Not when it’s as infrequent as you,” he quips.
I chuckle at the banter, but he’s right. If it wasn’t for the pretend relationship with Maggie, I wouldn’t be in here for another few months.
I enjoy the banter with Snips while he cuts my hair and trims my beard. I want to make a good impression this weekend. Not because I give a shit what her parents think of me, but I do care that they give her a break.
I’ve noticed how often her mom calls and the long conversations Maggie has with her. Maggie’s a quiet girl, and I’ve drawn her out of her shell over the last few months. Once she gets to know you, she’ll talk about anything, but after those calls with her mom she retreats back into herself, as timid as a mouse.
I’m curious to meet her mom, and if I can deflect any heat away from Maggie I will. Which is why I’m getting myself tidied up. I mean to make the most of my fake dating weekend.
Snips is finishing off my beard when his phone buzzes. It’s on the countertop, and he checks the number and frowns. His mouth sets in a grim line as he pointedly ignores the buzzing phone.
It finally stops, and his shoulders relax. He’s reaching for the beard oil when it rings again. His hands rub together too vigorously, and when he rubs the oil into my beard, he’s so rough that it pulls on my hair.
“You gonna get that?” I ask.
“Nope.”
He doesn’t offer any explanation and I usually wouldn’t push, but when it rings a third time, a volley of curses comes out of his mouth.
“The tax man chasing you or something?”
Snips frowns. “Worse than that.”
At the same time, the baby monitor that’s sitting on the counter springs to life. Cries flood the room, and Snip’s face goes soft.
“That’s you done,” he says. “Knew I could fit a customer in during her afternoon nap.”
“You’ve got the kid here?”
Snips recently found out he was a dad. It was a shock to him when social services called informing him he was the closest relation since the mother passed.
Snips was a little wild every time we came back from tour, and it caught up with him eventually. He got a paternity test done, and it’s official. Three months ago, he became a dad to a cute one-year-old baby girl.
“I got the crib set up out back.”
He goes through a door and comes back a few moments later cradling his little girl. In the arms of her daddy, the cries peter out. She grabs at his beard and giggles.
I have a sudden image in my mind of Maggie holding our baby in her arms as she looks down on her. It’s a nice fantasy and my chest swells with the knowledge that that’s what I want.
“That phone call got something to do with the baby?”
