by Leddy Harper
I had to remind myself that he was more than likely long gone given I hadn’t seen nor heard from him since Monday. After the night we met, it’d taken him thirty-six hours to come after me, yet since then, it’d been over sixty. Over sixty hours—more than two days—and nothing from him. I had to take that to mean he’d lost interest, he’d finally taken the hint I had given him, but it was no longer clear in my mind what I wanted.
“You playing hard to get?” she asked, pulling my attention from my pathetic thoughts.
“No, Carrie. I’m not playing anything.”
“I saw the way you walked away from him…”
I had to grit my teeth to keep from lashing out at her. It would be completely unprofessional if I allowed my anger to get the best of me, so I kept it in and displayed a phony smile on my face. “All of which is none of your business. Like I’ve already said, I have no idea what’s going on between us. I walked away from him for personal reasons—reasons he’s aware of. Reasons that don’t concern you, that don’t belong being discussed at work.”
She bit her lip and glanced down at her leopard-print pumps, her chest rising with deep breaths. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just saw the way you guys looked at each other. I’m envious, if I’m being honest. I didn’t mean to push you. I only thought if I threw it out there, it might help you figure out what you want.”
“Why do you care what I want?”
Her glossy eyes met mine as the corners of her lips tugged timidly into a soft, sweet smile. Then a light sigh slipped through her parted lips, her unshed tears forming along her lower lashes. “I really liked this guy once. And I think he liked me, too. But at the time, I was still wrapped up in my ex and what he’d done to me. He’d hurt me pretty bad, and I guess I let the fear of opening myself up to someone new get in the way of what could be between us. By the time I figured it all out, sorted through my feelings and made the decision to go for it, it was too late. I remember calling him like fifty times that day, excited to tell him how I felt and that I wanted to see what we could have together. I didn’t know it until later, but he’d gotten in a really bad motorcycle accident that morning and died.” She wiped away a lone tear from her cheek, her glistening, pain-filled eyes never leaving mine. “Moral of the story…don’t waste too much time, because time is one thing you’re never guaranteed in life.”
Her words seeped into me. They wrapped around my neck and squeezed, making me dizzy with the lack of oxygen supplied to my brain. Time is one thing we’re never guaranteed in life. No truer words had ever been spoken.
“Thank you, Carrie.” My whispered voice broke, full of raw emotion and understanding. I couldn’t say anything more, knowing if I tried, the words would be accompanied by tears.
I took one more swig of my Coke and left the room without looking back. Carrie needed a moment to herself as badly as I did, but I had a client waiting for me, and I didn’t need to greet her with fresh tears on my face.
Marlo stood behind the counter, going through her checklist on the computer as I walked up. She caught my attention and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, questioning if I was okay. I gave her a single nod, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders to prove it. With a genuine smile, she glanced behind me, signaling that my client was here and waiting.
I spun around, flattening the front of my black dress with my sweaty palms. But my hands froze over my stomach and my shoulders dropped at the sight of him. I turned my head back to Marlo and asked, “This is my client?”
“Yes.” She checked over the schedule briefly before saying, “Bentley Cole.”
My breath bottled in my chest as I became aware of every noise, every movement of air around me. I didn’t want this lighthearted feeling to end, but I wasn’t sure where it would lead me. I’d cried all night long, wanting him, but now that he stood only a few feet away from me, I didn’t know what to do. I had so many unanswered questions, but I didn’t know how to word them without coming off rude and antsy. Honestly, I didn’t care why he was here, I was simply glad he was. I had no explanation for the things he made me feel, the acceptance he sought to give me…I just knew I wanted it. Craved it.
Bentley cleared his throat, reminding me of his presence. I peered up at him through my lashes, and with one look into those dark, intense green eyes, the last of my resolve slipped away. My heels barely came off the floor as I took two steps, closing the distance between us, and fell into him. My hands gripped the sides of his shirt as I pressed my face against the hard planes of his chest, letting the low, steady rhythm of his heart soothe me as he held me in his arms.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, yet it sounded muffled and deep as I heard his words reverberate through his body. They were full of trepidation and worry.
“I think you broke me.” I tried to laugh, but it came out a sad and pathetic giggle past the lump in my throat.
“Impossible,” he whispered into my hair. “You can’t break a diamond.”
I pulled back, releasing my hold on him, and shook my head with a smile. “I’m not a diamond. Diamonds sparkle and shine. They bring people happiness. I’m one of those rocks people think are worth something until they take a closer look. I leave them disappointed.” I hadn’t meant to sound so depressed and gloomy, it was meant to be a joke, yet it seemed more like the truth once it’d been spoken aloud.
“You’re wrong. Diamonds come from deep inside the earth and are formed by really high pressure over billions of years. Volcanic eruptions bring them close to the surface, so they’re covered with layers of cooled magma. That’s what you are. You’ve suffered a lot of pressure, your life was disturbed by a massive eruption, and you’re hiding out just beneath the surface, waiting to be found. To the untrained eye, you’re a piece of black coal, but in reality, you’re just covered by protective layers until someone breaks through, giving you your moment to shine.”
His flushed cheeks and soft words told me he was sincere, yet my laugh couldn’t be contained. It rippled through me until I couldn’t breathe. “Let me guess… You’re the person I’ve been waiting to find me? And you’re going to break through my protective layer of magma so I can shine? I’m not Lucy, and this isn’t some Beatles song.”
He shrugged and smiled timidly back at me, but that didn’t hide his embarrassment. His head fell forward as he gripped the back of his neck, his gaze falling to our shoes. “It got you to laugh, didn’t it?”
Once my giggles faded, I remembered where we were, standing near the front doors of the salon in front of my boss. I cleared my throat, composing myself. “What are you in here for today, Bentley? Another shampoo? You enjoyed the last one so much, you came back for more?”
His cheeks flamed red as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets and rocked on the heels of his black, steel-toed boots. His demeanor was cute. It made him seem boyish. “Nah. I actually came in for a cut this time.”
“Okay. I can do that. Come with me.” I spun around, leaving him to follow me back to my station. “What is it you want me to do to it? Want to get rid of this?” I ran my fingers through the longer parts of his hair.
He sat down in the chair and faced the mirror, but he never took his eyes off my reflection. “No. I actually like it. I just need a trim.”
I studied the style and took a peek at the ends. “When was the last time you had it cut?” I narrowed my gaze at him through the mirror. The gig was up.
“Last Friday.”
“Less than a week ago?” I rolled my eyes and moved to stand in front of him, leaning against the counter. “Spill it, Bentley. You don’t need a trim. So why are you here?”
“How else am I supposed to see you?”
His flattery warmed me, more than I’d expected it to, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “Gee, I don’t know, how about the many ways that normal people see each other. I’m sure the majority of them don’t stalk people at their place of employment. Or waste money o
n haircuts they don’t need. Do you have any idea how much I charge for this?”
“Yes, I’m fully aware of the cost. But I don’t care. Let’s face it, Sarah, you’re not the dating kind of girl. You’ve said so yourself. Normal people ask other normal people out to dinner when they want to see them. The last time I saw you, you kicked me out of the salon. I think I made the right assumption when I figured asking you out for dinner wasn’t an option. I decided to take my time, break through a few layers of your magma first.”
“So what’s your plan? Just keep coming in here twice a week for shampoos and cuts you don’t need? Wait it out until I feel bad enough for you and take you up on your offer for dinner? And then what? What is it you’re looking for from me?”
His gaze fell to his lap as he twisted his lips, biting the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know.” His voice was clear, not a hint of deception detected. “None of this was planned. I was supposed to go back home, but since meeting you, I can’t seem to actually do it. I can’t find it in me to throw my bags in the back of the truck and take off. I need to know you’re okay. I need to know that when I leave here, you’ll be stronger than when I found you.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense, Bentley,” I whispered, not trusting my voice enough to speak any louder. “Think about it logically. You met a complete stranger in a bar. It wasn’t all sweet looks and sexy smiles. I pissed you off, made you walk out. You’d gone in for a drink, and left without one because I verbally assaulted you. Then you spent God knows how long in the parking lot lecturing me, arguing with me. The only reason why you even spent time with me was because you didn’t want me to drive. What about any of that made you stay?”
“You said a lot at the diner. And it made me think. Life’s too short to live it sad and alone. And you deserve better.”
“At the risk of sounding like a broken record…you don’t know me. How could you possibly know I deserve better? How do you know I’m not a terrible person who’s made horrible decisions?”
“I already told you, I’m good at reading people.”
“You’re obviously not that great at it, because you thought I was drunk when I left the bar.”
“I didn’t think you were drunk. But it’s not safe to drive after having anything to drink.”
I laughed and glanced around the room, making sure nobody was paying attention to our conversation. “Bentley, I was drinking Coke. Straight Coke, no mixer. I was just as sober as you were.”
“Then why’d you get in my truck? Why’d you agree to sober up at the diner?”
I grinned, my determination finally waking up within me. “Because I wanted to get laid. You ruined my chances with the guy next to me, and I figured I’d give you a try instead of going home alone.”
He squinted his eyes, moving his gaze off into the distance as if contemplating something. His lips twisted to the side for a moment, and then, as if snapping out of it, he turned his attention back to me. “Wanna have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
My head spun, his random question giving me whiplash. “That depends…am I gonna get laid?”
“I can make that happen.” He nodded curtly, and the expression on his face remained hard and unreadable.
“Okay. Pick me up here at six.” My heartbeat sped up, hammering an erratic rhythm against my ribcage. Was this really happening? I mentally forced myself to switch gears, knowing if we stayed on the topic of me getting laid, I wouldn’t be able to finish out my day. I leaned forward and ran my fingers through his hair again, gripping it at the base as I moved to stand beside him. “So what are we doing with this hair? You gonna let me cut this down?”
“No. If you do that, then you won’t be able to grab it like that again.” Apparently, Bentley wanted me flustered for the rest of my day.
I dropped my hand and glanced over his body. When he finally stopped staring into the mirror and turned his eyes on me, I asked, “Where are you from?”
“Dalton—a small farming town about six hours north.”
I slowly shook my head, appraising him openly. I wanted him fully aware of what I was doing, which was pretty much gawking at him, salivating at the thought of touching him everywhere. “I would’ve guessed a city. New York, Chicago, maybe even LA.”
“Why?” His rumbling chuckle washed over me and filled me with an easy warmth, the kind I used to feel when I was happy.
“For starters, look at you.” I kicked his shoes, trying to ignore the elation he evoked from me. “You wear heavy-duty boots instead of the typical cowboy boots found in the country. Your jeans are faded with rips in the knees.” I stuck my fingers in one of the holes and pulled to make my point. “It’s very metro. Your T-shirts are fine, but then look at your hair. It screams punk or rock, not country. And last weekend, you had on a snapback, not a cowboy hat. These are not the traits you’d find in a small farming town in the South.”
“But I drive a truck,” he responded and winked, excitedly wagging his eyebrows at me. “And what’s wrong with my jeans?”
“Nothing is wrong with them. I actually like them. But they’re obviously not Levi’s or Wranglers. They fit, but aren’t snug.”
“I can’t wear snug jeans.” He moved his hand to rest on the top of his thigh, forcing my thoughts to what had been there a few days ago.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
He nodded, tilting his head slightly.
“It might be embarrassing…”
“To who? You or me?”
My eyes rolled in a full circle as the corners of my lips tugged upward. “The other day, when you were…happy, why was it on your leg?”
“Where else would it be?”
“I don’t know.” My cheeks instantly burned, but I didn’t back down. “I guess I always thought you kept it in the front, not down one side of your leg.”
He bit his lip to fight off the smile, but the twinkle in his eyes gave it away. “I guess some might, but I can’t.”
“Then why not up?”
“Because having a dick stuck to your stomach isn’t the most comfortable thing.” He laughed when my top lip curled up and my nose wrinkled, but I wasn’t repulsed, I was confused. “Things…get sweaty and then they stick to skin, Sarah. Most of the time, when you see a guy adjust himself, it’s more than likely to get his balls off his leg or something.”
“Oh…well, wouldn’t it be easier to adjust yourself if it was up instead of down? It might be more discreet to unstick things if it looks like you’re just messing with the top of your pants.”
His gaze fell away, landing on his lap, and that’s when the pink hue trailed up his neck to his face. “Again, maybe for some people. But I don’t really care to have my dick stick out of my waistband.” His eyes snapped back to mine, cutting off my thought. “Have you ever seen a soft dick?”
“Of course I have.”
“Okay, and does it stick up?” he asked, smiling when I shook my head. “Exactly. Down is more natural. Some might tuck, others can probably get away with it up or in the front, but I can’t.”
My entire body from my toes to my head tingled and burned with talk of his dick. I’d never discussed genitalia with a guy before, and although it was a tad embarrassing, I ignored that and let my imagination run free. I leaned closer, eliminating any possibility of others hearing. “Because you’re so big?”
“That’s subjective.”
“You said it would stick out of your jeans…even when it’s soft?”
His breathing had turned ragged about three questions ago, but now it was frantic and harsh, blasting waves of heat against my face with each breath. “Yes.”
My eyes grew wide, trailing down his body and stopping at his lap. My pulse began to beat between my legs as I contemplated what he looked like, and even more so, how he felt. I mean, wasn’t it every girl’s fantasy to have a guy with a big dick? “How big are you?”
“I don’t know, never measured it.”
“Modest much?�
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“Call it whatever you want, but I don’t go around comparing my dick to others. Do you sit around with your friends comparing your pussies?” He wasn’t rude with his answer, or even angry. He simply spoke with a factual tone, nonchalant as if discussing what to eat for dinner.
Paranoia over someone hearing us clawed at me and made my ears ring, but when I chanced a glance around the salon, no one seemed to be paying an ounce of attention to our massively inappropriate conversation. “Why would we do that?”
“Exactly. And why would I compare mine? Pussy is like dick—they’re all different. Some are deeper than others, some are tighter; one girl might have neatly tucked lips while the chick’s next to her hangs down. But they all work the same. No sense in comparing.”
“You seem to know a lot about pussy.”
He wagged his eyebrows, giving me a shit-eating grin that had me clenching my legs together.
I ignored him, focusing once more on his lap and salivating to see what hid beneath his clothes. Talking about his size made me wonder how long he actually was, and if it was all length and no girth. Then I wondered if the girth matched the length. That visual left my panties slightly wet and my breaths shallow and eager.
“You know…” Bentley’s smooth, deep voice caught my attention, causing me to gasp in surprise. “You’re kind of making me a little self-conscious. Making me feel cheap and dirty, like you’re trying to picture me naked.”
My apology was at the tip of my tongue when he started to laugh. I slapped his bicep, feeling the hard muscle beneath my palm, and fantasizing about other parts of his body.
“So are you going to trim my hair or what? I think you’ve talked about my hair once—making fun of it—and isn’t that what I’m in here for?”
“You really want a forty-five dollar trim?”
“No, I just really want to talk to you. But if I have to pay forty-five dollars to do it, then sure…why not?”
“You sound like one of those creeps that pay a prostitute just to talk. But you’re here, on my schedule, so we can still talk without you going broke. It’s not like you’re holding me up or anything.”