I didn’t just start my laundry and leave like Dare expected me to. I joined Ralph and Dare in the living room and tried to ignore the way Dare squirmed on occasion like he had a challenging time getting comfortable.
“How about I treat us to dinner,” I suggested, surprising everyone.
“What can you cook?” Ralph wisely asked before agreeing.
“Oh, I had planned to place an order at the diner. I’m craving their cheddar broccoli soup.”
“That does sound mighty good,” Ralph said. “Would you mind if I ordered half of a Rueben sandwich too? Will that be too much?”
I had to swallow hard before I could speak. “You can have whatever you want, Ralph. Would you like a piece of pie too?”
“Is it my birthday?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if he was being serious until I saw the twinkle in his eye. “I’d love a piece of the lemon meringue pie. Dare, do you think the lemon will be too hard on my reflux?”
I looked over at Dare and saw that he was holding back tears. He loved his grandpa so much that denying him anything would be painful. “Let me get you an extra pill to take so it can start working in your system before we eat.”
Dare had tried to give me money for the dinner, but I wouldn’t hear of it. We enjoyed a nice dinner and conversation while my clothes finished in the dryer. When they were done, Dare walked me to the back door and looked unsure of what he was supposed to do. Did he kiss me goodnight or just give me a cute little wave? He didn’t have to voice his uncertainty because it was plain to see in the way he bit his lip. It made my heart ache to know that I confused him so much.
I leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss that lingered beyond a peck but didn’t involve tongue. I wanted to slide my tongue between his soft lips, but that would’ve lead to other things that would’ve further complicated an already sticky situation.
So, I ended the kiss and went back up to my apartment and folded my clothes, noticing that they smelled like Dare. I brought a T-shirt up to my nose and sniffed it like a lovesick fool then tossed it back onto the bed in disgust. If I kept it up, I’d be passing him notes at the salon and asking him to go steady by the end of the week.
I don’t know why something so silly soured my good mood, but it did. Even worse, I had weird dreams all night long that combined all the pain from my past with the happiness I glimpsed in my future if I just had a little faith. My sleep was fitful to non-existent, and I groaned when the sun streamed through my bedroom window. The first thing my sluggish brain registered was a sore middle finger on my right hand. I couldn’t remember slamming it in a door or…. I held my hand up and sure enough there were faint bruises where Dare bit me the previous night. My finger wasn’t swollen or stiff and there were no obvious teeth marks to give it away, but I would remember Dare coming for me every time it throbbed, or I looked down and saw the marks.
Without thinking it through, I snapped a closeup picture of the bruise and sent it to Dare with a message. You marked me.
I figured he was making Ralph breakfast because it took him awhile to reply. I’d already had my shower, drank my first cup of coffee, and ate my Corn Flakes and sliced bananas before he responded.
I guess we’re even then.
How so? Did I bruise him?
Those big greasy handprints all over my ass, hips, and the thumbprint above my hole.
Fuck! How could I have forgotten about that? Damn, I wish I’d taken a picture. That was so fucking hot.
There was another long pause before he answered, and I wondered where he’d gone. I will neither confirm nor deny right now, but I’ve heard a picture of the event you mentioned exists.
No way. My dick started swelling. Show me, Dare.
Nope.
I’ll make you. I knew damn well I could back up that threat.
Oh, this should be fun. He sent a laughing emoji then another text. Gotta head to the salon. See you when you get to work.
Was he joking? Did he snap a picture of his ass with my handprints marking him? I wanted that more than logic said I should. I mean, what would I do with it? Jerk off. It was the visual reminder of the most erotic sex I’d ever had. In fact, every sexual encounter with him far surpassed anything I’d ever experienced with anyone else. I knew it had more to do with the person I shared the experiences with than the vibrating butt plug, power play, or garage seduction. It was the connection I felt to Dare that I’d never found with anyone else. It was enough to scare me spitless. I just didn’t know what, if anything, I was prepared to do about it.
I arrived at the salon a little early so I could seek Dare out. It wasn’t that I’d had some huge epiphany in the previous hours, but my desire to see that picture had grown. I did that smiling-on-the-inside thing as I hung up my coat and got my brain organized for my clients that day. I just wanted one little taste, one little tease from Dare, and perhaps a quick peek at the photo I knew damn well he had in his phone.
You know how it is when you feel something isn’t right, but can’t quite figure out what it is or even how you know it for a few heartbeats? I had that feeling after I made myself a cup of coffee and started walking toward the salon. Then it hit me. It was too quiet. There wasn’t a single blow dryer going or conversation flowing between clients and stylists. The only sounds I heard were the heavy thud my biker boots made on the hardwood floor. Then I saw the reason for everyone’s silence standing at Dare’s desk.
Fuck. Me! I nearly dropped my coffee cup, but surprise was a reaction I refused to let him see. Anger boiled in my blood and propelled me across the floor faster. I could feel everyone shifting their attention from the rock legend standing at the front of the salon to me. Did they see the resemblance? As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t deny he was my father no matter how hard I tried. I often wondered if it hurt my mother when she looked at me. After all, he was the source of her greatest misery and heartbreak.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in a deadly calm voice when I reached him.
“Hello to you too, Son.”
“Son?” I heard several people ask at the same time. Dare wasn’t one of them.
“Don’t call me that, Alaric.”
My sperm donor cringed and blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ve asked you not to call me that. It’s Dad or Falcon.”
“Neither is going to happen.” I shook my head because Alaric “Falcon” Davison of the legendary band, Falcon’s Descent, didn’t care what anyone else wanted. He had decided that he wanted to be my father when I was seventeen years old, regardless of the fact I wanted nothing to do with him. I hated him more than I hated anything in the world.
“If you would’ve answered one of my calls you would know why I was here,” he said. “This is where you work, huh?”
“You act as if it’s a bad thing,” Dare said defensively.
“Not at all,” Alaric said, aiming a charming smile at Dare. “Is there somewhere we could talk privately, Wren?”
I had nothing to say to him, but I’d inform him of that in private rather than give the town of Blissville even more to talk about. Jesus, I was going to have to move after this. I looked at Dare who watched me through big eyes filled with concern. “Does Josi have a client upstairs right now?” I asked him.
“Um, no. Her first client isn’t until noon. She’s not even here yet, so go on upstairs.”
I don’t know what made me do it, perhaps I wanted to shock Alaric, but I suspected it had more to do with the way Dare looked like he wanted to shield me from pain. I reached over and lightly caressed the side of his face. Dare leaned into my palm and I forgot that the rest of the world even existed.
Alaric cleared his throat, yanking me out of my happy place with Dare. I turned and looked at him with as much animosity as I could muster. “Follow me. You have five minutes.”
Alaric chuckled like it was no big deal I had disrespected him, but I knew it had to be a bug in his craw. He was used to people fawning all over him and stroking his ego. I had zero i
ntention of doing either. The sooner he said his piece, the quicker I could get back on with my day.
Once we were alone upstairs, I turned to face him. I loved how uncertain he looked suddenly. “Was that little display with the cute receptionist your idea of shocking me, Wren? I’ve known you are gay for a long time. Terry told me. It doesn’t matter to me, Son.” Hearing him say my mom’s name was like throwing gasoline on a fire. My rage burned inside me.
“What do you want?” I asked instead of answering his question or acknowledging his acceptance. “I can’t possibly imagine what you have to say.”
“I’m building a house in Indian Hill and moving back to the Cincinnati area. I’ve decided this rift between us is stupid. I’m not getting any younger and it’s time you took your rightful place in my life.”
“For fuck’s sake, Alaric. You sound like some fucking king whose prince went astray. You might be the Rock King, but you’re nothing to me.” Hell, I couldn’t even stand to listen to his fucking music without getting nauseous. “It doesn’t matter that you want to make room for me in your life now that I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t have room for you in mine.”
“Wren.” My name left his lips in a long, exasperated sigh. “Will you at least meet me for dinner? You can rant and scream all you want for the mistakes I made with you and your mother.” Mistakes. “All this resentment you’re carrying around isn’t good for you. It will rot your soul, Wren. One dinner and that’s it. The ball will be in your court, and I’ll respect your decision about the role I have in your life going forward.” He would have no role in my life, of that I was certain. “I have reservations at Bobby Jack’s steakhouse on the Ohio River. It’s on the Newport, Kentucky side.”
“I know where it is.”
“Be there at seven.”
“I said I know where the steakhouse is located. I didn’t agree to have dinner with you.”
“I understand,” Alaric said before he turned and headed for the door. He stopped just before opening it and looked at me over his shoulder. “It will just be the two of us tonight. Samantha won’t be there. I’d really like for you to meet her and your little brother, Tobias, but I won’t push it.”
“How big of you, Alaric,” I snarled.
“I’m trying my best, Son.”
“Your best won’t ever be enough.”
“I won’t know unless I try. I hope to see you at dinner.”
I said nothing else, just collapsed in a chair. I don’t know how long I sat there wondering what the fuck had just happened or why. What could Alaric think he would change by forcing a face-to-face meeting with me after all this time? It had backfired spectacularly when my mom died and he tried to be the strong shoulder I needed. You would think he got the hint when I chose to go into foster care for my last year as a minor rather than move to LA to be with him. It turned out to be the best decision I ever made because that’s where I met Jimmy and Danny.
There was a soft knock on the door, and I knew who it belonged to without asking. “Come in, Sparkles.” As much as I wanted to be alone to lick my wounds, I needed his effervescence more than solitude right then.
“Hey,” he said softly when he closed the door behind him. “Tell me how I can make this right, Wren.”
I crooked my finger and Dare came to me without hesitation. I pulled him onto my lap, not caring about mixed signals or crossing lines, and lay my head against his chest. He wanted to comfort me, and I needed comfort. I knew he had a thousand questions running through his mind, but he didn’t ask a single one of them. He just ran his hand through my hair and placed sweet kisses on top of my head.
“Do you want me to reschedule your appointments today? You look like you’ve had a terrible shock and by now everyone in this town knows that your, um, Falcon was here. The place will be crawling with busybodies.”
I thought it was so freaking adorable that he wanted to protect me but hiding would only delay the inevitable. Besides, if I’d answered Alaric’s calls last week, I could’ve prevented the entire disaster from occurring.
“Nah, I’ll be okay.” I held Dare a little tighter to show him how much his offer meant to me. “I can think of one thing that will make me feel a little better though.”
Dare sucked in a quick breath, and I loved the way he reacted to me. “What’s that?”
“Show me the picture.”
Dare pulled out his phone and pulled the image up. It was every bit as sexy as I thought it would be, with my greasy handprints marking his fair skin. I needed to have it for myself. I didn’t ask permission before I sent it to my phone. I smiled when I felt the vibration in my pocket that alerted me it had arrived.
“I have this dinner thing with Alaric, but I’d like to come over afterward.” I hadn’t even realized I was going until the words came tumbling out. “It could be ten or later before I get back to town. If that’s too late…”
“Hush,” Dare said then kissed my lips softly. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
It was exactly what I needed to hear to make it through the rest of the day.
As one would expect in a small town, word got around fast that a legendary rocker was spotted in Curl Up and Dye. I had hoped that no one besides me heard Falcon refer to Wren as his son, but I knew it was too good to be true. Wren might’ve been protected a bit more if the normal sounds of the salon drowned out the conversation, but it was so quiet that you could’ve heard a pin drop. The only noise was the thundering sound of Wren’s steps as he angrily made his way to the front of the salon. The look on his face was darker than any storm cloud I’d ever seen. Even if I hadn’t overheard Falcon refer to Wren as his son, I would’ve seen the resemblance with my own eyes.
The scowl that Wren wore to discourage the world from talking to him was the same one that Falcon used when playing a long guitar riff. Their wry grins were the same, as were the shape of their eyes and mouth. Of course, Wren’s sly grins were reserved for me while Falcon’s seemed contrived to sell records, T-shirts, and concert tickets. There were enough differences that I couldn’t say Wren was Falcon’s carbon copy, but it was plain to see that they were father and son.
The increase in salon traffic was maddening, but I kept a level head. I had two goals: keep the busybodies away from Wren and sell as many products as I could. Buying a haircare product, styling tool, or nail polish was the least they could do after so rudely prying into Wren’s life.
One lady had leaned so far over the high counter of my desk that I thought she was going to fall over it. “Is it true? Was Falcon really here?”
There was absolutely no point in lying. “Yeah, he was here.”
“Oh my God! I saw Falcon’s Descent so many times in the eighties.” I suspected her hairstyle back then was as unfortunate as the high-pitched squeal she let loose in front of me. “I had so many posters of them on the wall.” She sighed dreamily, and I didn’t even want to know where her mind had gone. “Is it true that Wren is his son?” The lady eyed my man up and down like he was her ticket to getting closer to the rock legend.
“That I can’t confirm or deny.”
I then wove a wild tale of how much Falcon loved the massage products upstairs. Josi didn’t buy her oils and salts from a beauty supply outfit, she bought them from Marabel, the same lady who made Wren’s, and now my, goat milk soap. Marabel offered a wide variety of skin, spa, and other amazing products using organic ingredients and high-quality essential oils. Both she and Josh would come out winners by the time I was done with the town.
At the end of the day, I was exhausted from the mental restraint it took to bite my tongue, my face hurt from forcing a smile all day, and my throat felt scratchy from the extra talking. The long, sweet kiss that Wren gave me before he left made it all worth it. I sighed happily as I went about my end of day routine. Wren freely showing me affection, no matter how big or small, was the shot in the arm I needed.
“Dare, you were incredible today,” Josh said. I was so wrapped up in the s
ales data for the day that I hadn’t noticed him approach. “Why don’t you go on home and I’ll finish the sales report and bank deposit. You’ve done more than your fair share around here today.” He came around the desk and saw the sales figures. “Holy fuck!” Josh exclaimed then studied the figures some more.
“The downside is that I need to place an order for supplies first thing in the morning and pay to have an extra delivery,” I told him. “We’ll never make it to our normally scheduled delivery later in the month.”
“It’s a good problem to have,” Josh teased then turned and looked at me. “I’m going to start paying you commission for the products you sell. You’re one hell of a salesman.”
I blushed slightly beneath his praise. “You don’t have to do that, Josh. I really love working here and you pay me a good salary for the work I do.”
“Dare, how often does a salon client leave without purchasing something when you check them out?” Josh asked.
“Um, not often. Mrs. Dowdner refuses to buy products and insists she can get the same quality for a fourth of the cost at the supermarket,” I said.
“And that’s why Mrs. Dowdner comes back every three weeks so I can tone her hair,” Josh replied with a smile. “I’m serious though. How does ten percent commission sound in addition to your hourly wage?”
“Generous.”
“Okay, we’re starting your commission today,” Josh said, gesturing to the data on my computer screen.
I did the quick math in my head and grinned broadly at him. I knew just where I would put the extra money. “Thank you so much, Josh.”
“Thank you,” Josh replied. “Now get out of here.”
“See you tomorrow, Josh.”
“You know what I appreciate the most from you today?” he asked when I’d gone a few steps.
Nobody's Prince Charming (Road to Blissville, #3) Page 11