Page 5 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

“Whoo-wee! Look who’s back, ladies,” one of the women called out as I held the door to Pure Elegance open and guided Gram through.

Just like every week, it took effort to keep my lips from pulling into a cringe. After three years, you’d think I would be used to this kind of thing, but I absolutely wasn’t. The attention I got at being a single man bringing his grandmother in each week to get her hair done had been flattering at first, but now it was just plain uncomfortable.

The more these women had gotten to know me, the more they felt they had a say in pretty much every aspect of my life, from how I wore my hair— “You would look so handsome if you’d just cut that mop on your head”—to my romantic life, or lack thereof.

To my complete and utter displeasure, that particular topic of conversation seemed to be a fan favorite. And instead of having my back, Gran got off on hanging me out to dry with these ladies for her own amusement.

“You find yourself a woman yet?” Ms. McClintock, a blue-haired lady roughly Gran’s age, called from her chair near the door.

“Not in the week that’s passed since we last saw each other, Ms. M. I’m still waiting for you to let me take you out on the town.” I shot her a wink for added effect.

The surly old lady scoffed and waved me off. “If I told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, now that I got me two new hips, I’d wreck you. You may be built like a tank, but I got more city miles on me than you can handle. Stay in the shallow end where it’s safe, boy.”

“Well, one can still hope,” I replied.

The owner of the salon, a redheaded stunner named Nona Wanderly, waved from her station.

“Hey, Sybil.” She smiled, and from that smile alone, I knew good and well her husband was a lucky man. “Come on over. I’m ready for you.”

Gram spoke as she walked toward the station, throwing me right under the bus. “My boy’s single ’cause he’s hung up on that woman from his building.”

“Ah, hell, Gram. Not this again.” I’d made a huge mistake confiding in my grandmother about my annoyance with my downstairs neighbor, and now she was convinced there was more going on between us than mutual disdain.

“What’s this now?” Gypsy, the woman who worked the front desk, inquired. She leaned an elbow against the counter and propped her chin in her hand, watching with way too much fascination. “Have you been keeping a secret from us all this time?”

“There’s no secret,” I insisted. “I’m not hung up on her, all right?” I looked to Gram, fire in my eyes as I declared, “I can’t stand the woman. There’s a huge difference.”

“Not from where I’m standing.” Gram turned to grin knowingly at me as Nona wrapped a black cape across her chest. “Way I see it, you two are like kids in the school yard, picking on one another because you want the other person’s attention. It’s grade school flirting at its best. You might as well be pulling her pigtails.”

I shot her a dry look. “I don’t think it’s considered flirting when she threatens to set me on fire.” Something she’d been doing on a weekly basis for months now.

Gram waived me off like finding out that Satan’s mistress was threatening her precious grandson wasn’t concerning at all. “Ohpfft. I’m sure she doesn’t mean it.” She’d regret saying that one day when they found my smoldering body in my apartment. “Besides, I’m sure you did something to deserve the threat.”

“So much for siding with blood,” I grumbled as I took a seat in one of the chairs that lined the front windows of the salon. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“And I absolutely would be...if I didn’t know you. Had a big hand in raising you, son. I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

I thought back to the very first time Layla had threatened bodily injury and what had spurred her on, and had to bite back my smile. It had come on the heels of me posting fliers all over the building with a picture of a blowup sex doll with instructions to return to its owner, Layla Fox, if found. I’d listed her apartment number and everything. She got weird looks from everyone in the building for weeks. It was had been a stroke of genius as far as I was concerned, and in my defense, the only reason I’d gone to such lengths was because she’d told anyone who would listen that it was the coleslaw I’d brought to the summer potluck that gave half the tenants food poisoning.Iwas the innocent one here. Everything I did was strictly in retaliation. It was that devil woman who made the first moves.

“You know, you should really let us set you up,” Nona announced determinedly. “We’ve got a great track record. Right Gypsy?”

It took everything I had not to groan in misery as I thought,not this shit again.

Gypsy stood tall, her eyes gleaming in a way that made my anxiety spike. “Oh my God, what about one of the girls from the club?”

Nona sucked in a dramatic gasp. “Yes! We should talk to Charlotte.”

Gypsy squealed and did a little happy dance. “Absolutely! She’d know which one would be perfect for him.”

“And she’s coming in later this afternoon, so the timing is perfect!”

I didn’t know what the hell club they were talking about or who this Charlotte was, but the one thing I knew for absolute certain was that this whole situation was getting away from me.

“There will be no set-ups. I don’t need anyone’s help, thank you very much. I do just fine on my own.”

Or at least I use to. Truth was, I’d been in a little bit of a rut since my relationship with my ex-fiancée, Leah, ended. In the three years that had passed since then, there had only been two other women. The first had just been a casual relationship that wasn’t really serious and had only lasted a few months. The second had been completely out of character for me; a one-night stand I’d picked up at a bar and made the mistake of taking back to my place instead of going to hers.

Just like she did with everything else, that she-devil living in the apartment below had managed to ruin it. She’d made an already lack-luster sexual encounter even worse by beating on her ceiling the entire goddamn time. I’d been gun-shy ever since, unable to bring myself to take another shot, knowing that piranha of a woman below me would somehow fuck it all to hell if I did happen to find a woman I liked and wanted to stick around.

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