Unexpected Fight

by Kaylee Ryan

  “Good point.” She grabs the remote and pulls up the movie. She doesn’t hit Play. “We need snacks,” she says, setting the remote on the small end table and skipping off toward the kitchen.

  “What kind of snacks?” I call over my shoulder.

  “You’ll see.” I hear her rustling around in the kitchen.

  “You need any help?”

  “Nope.” I hear the microwave door shut and the popcorn start popping to life. “Here.” She hands me two bottles of water over my shoulder, then rushes back to the kitchen. In no time, she’s back with a large bowl of popcorn and a package of Oreos. “You can’t watch a movie without popcorn, and these are for our sweet tooth.”

  I don’t tell her that I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, well, unless you count her. I’m sure she’s all kinds of sweet. My cock thickens just at the thought of tasting her. Luckily, she’s across the room, turning off the lights so I can adjust myself before she sees. “Setting the mood?” I ask, my voice low and husky.

  “Is there any other way to have a movie night?”

  “I can’t think of any,” I tell her honestly. What she doesn’t realize is that it has nothing to do with the movie, or the snacks, or even the lighting. It’s all her.

  Just Reagan.

  She’s what makes this night one to remember.

  Chapter 3

  Reagan

  * * *

  “Reagan, dear, how are you?” Mrs. Marks says from the salon chair. I’ve been doing her hair since the day I opened my shop. She and my grandma are good friends.

  “I’m good, Mrs. Marks. How about you?” I ask, fastening the cape behind her neck.

  “Overdue for this appointment.” She laughs.

  “No worries there. I’ll get you all fixed up. You got a hot date this weekend?”

  “Oh, you.” She swats her hand through the air, and I can see her blush in the mirror.

  “It’s never too late to put yourself out there,” I tell her.

  “My Hank was the love of my life. There will never be another like him, so I don’t even bother to look.”

  “Don’t you get lonely?”

  “At times, but anyone else would just be a stand-in. That’s not fair to either of us. Besides, I have my friends and my children and grandchildren. What about you? Is there a special man in your life?”

  My mind immediately goes to Tyler. It’s been a week since I’ve seen him. Last weekend our movie night at my place felt too intimate. I ended up falling asleep on his shoulder, only to wake a couple of hours later, long after the movie had ended to him wide awake and watching me. You’re beautiful. His words still ring in my ears. I pretended not to hear him, and he left a few minutes later. “No, no one special.” Before she can reply, the chime on the door sounds, and I turn to see who it is. We do walk-ins as we can fit them in. “Welcome to….” I trail off when I see Tyler grinning ear to ear. His black Yankees hat covers his head. “Hey,” I greet him.

  “Hi. Got time for a cut?”

  Brenda opens her mouth to reply, but the look I give her must shut her up. “Sure, it will be about fifteen minutes. I have to get Mrs. Marks’s curlers in.”

  “No rush. We got rained off today.” He turns to look at the dark, gloomy sky. “So I thought it was time to get it done. I’m shaving it. Gets too hot working outside.”

  “You and Seth are complete opposites in that regard.” I laugh.

  He snorts. “He’s always been the pretty boy out of the bunch.” He’s not wrong. With Seth’s long locks, he definitely is more pretty boy than the rest of them.

  “Make yourself at home. You know where the fridge is. I’ll be with you soon,” I tell him, turning my attention back to Mrs. Marks.

  “He’s a cutie. Is he yours?” she asks. Of course, she doesn’t whisper or even lower her voice. No, her question rings out in the shop, where I know my employees, their clients, and Tyler all heard her.

  “No, he’s not mine. That’s Tyler, Mrs. Marks. He and Ridge are best friends. They work together.”

  “Oh.” She nods. “You should change that.” She winks.

  I can’t help but laugh at her. She has zero filter. “Tyler and I are friends.”

  “What is it they call it these days? Friends with benefits.” She snaps her arthritic fingers. “That’s it. You should try that.”

  “What would your children and grandchildren think of you telling me that?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Honey, they’d tell me good job because a man like that, you have to snatch them up while you can.”

  “Is that what you did?” I ask her, trying to turn the heat off me.

  “Of course, my Hank didn’t know what hit him.”

  “Come on, you, let’s get you under the dryer.” I wrap the final rod in her hair. Once everything is in place, I help her stand and move to the seat with the dryer. “Fifteen minutes and I’ll be back to check on you.”

  “Oh, no rush. I plan to enjoy the show.” She wags her eyebrows, causing me to laugh out loud.

  Moving back to my station, I clear the remaining curlers and clean up a bit. Mrs. Marks comes in every two weeks to have her hair “rolled” as she likes to call it. Basically, I put curlers in her short hair and then style it. She says it’s too hard with her arthritis, and I quote, “a woman needs to feel pretty and put together.” Who am I to argue with her? I happen to agree wholeheartedly. Hence, my opening my own salon and choosing cosmetology as a career.

  “Tyler, you ready?” I call over to him. He climbs to his feet, and I take the opportunity to drink him in. Tight jeans, lightened by wear in all the right places. Holes in the knees and I know from first-hand experience, they make his ass look incredible. “Going short, huh?” I ask once he’s seated in the chair.

  “Yeah, tired of dealing with it.”

  “We can do that. How short? Buzzed, bare, what are we talking here?”

  “Let’s start with buzzed. You going to shampoo it?” he asks.

  “I wasn’t, but I can. Do you want me to?”

  “Do you have time? It’s been ages since I’ve had that done. There was this men’s only place when we were working out of town a few years ago. They give you a hot towel for your face and everything.”

  “I can wash your hair, but you’re fresh out of luck with the hot towel. Unless you want me to just run one under hot water?”

  “Nah, but the wash I’ll take you up on.”

  I wrap a cape around his neck. “All right, follow me.” I lead the way to the wash station in the back corner of the salon. There is a wall with a long window that divides it from the others. It’s private. I wanted it that way. I can see out, see if someone comes in but other customers can’t see who’s in the chair. As a client, I always felt like it was awkward to be at the salon all tilted back for the world to watch you getting your hair washed or rinsed. Or even your eyebrows, chin, or whatever waxed. I hated it actually. When I bought this building, I was adamant with my dad and Ridge that my customers have privacy for those sorts of things. Dad insisted I be able to see the door, especially since I was the only one working here at the time. We came up with the window idea, and it’s worked perfectly. Several of my customers have commented on how much they like the privacy factor.

  “How’s your week been?” Tyler asks once he’s in the chair. His head is tilted back into the bowl, and while most keep their eyes closed for this part, his are wide open, watching me.

  “Good. It’s been busy, but you won’t hear me complaining about that. Business is good. The shelves are great by the way. Thank you again.” I adjust the water temperature and begin to wet his hair.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes still open. Still watching me.

  “How about you? Nice weather up until today at least.”

  “Yeah, it’s been nice. Ridge is pissed. We needed one more day to wrap up the job we’re on. You know how he is about keeping on schedule.”

  “Definitely. Although, I think he’s gotten wor
se since Knox was born. I can only imagine how it will be when the new baby gets here.”

  “Yeah, but I get it. We all do. He wants to be home with his family. Keeping the jobs on task helps make that happen. I’d do the same,” he says, finally closing his eyes. “Do they teach you some kind of hand/shampoo magic at school for this?” he asks with a sigh.

  “No.” I chuckle. “No secret. Just massaging your head with the tips of my fingers.”

  His eyes pop open and I see desire reflected back at me. Is that possible? I mean, I know we’ve been skirting around this attraction. I feel my face heat when I think about what I said. “It sounds… dirty when I play it back in my head.”

  “Yeah.” He swallows thickly.

  I’m leaning over him, my chest in his face, and I can feel his hot breath against the exposed skin of my scoop neck blouse. Tingles break out across my skin. “Close your eyes,” I whisper. The intense stare of his blue eyes is causing all kinds of things to stir inside me. Things I’ve been fighting months to hide and could easily reveal in a matter of seconds in my salon.

  “I don’t want to,” he whispers back.

  “Tyler—” I don’t really know what to say. Everything feels different between us. Last weekend things were different, and now today. I don’t know how to explain it, nor do I know what to do with it.

  Reaching up, he cradles my face in the palm of his hand. “Reagan—” he starts just as loud laughter reaches us from the other side of the wall.

  I blink several times. His hand falls from my face, and instantly I miss the warmth as well as the connection. I pull away as far as I can and condition his hair. We don’t speak, and I refuse to look him in the eye, no matter how much I can feel his eyes boring into me. Grabbing a towel, I run it over his head. “All set,” I croak. I don’t wait for him to reply. I walk out of the room and back to my station. I know he’ll follow me, and I need a minute to compose myself. That minute is mere seconds as his heavy footfalls sound behind me, and he slides back into my chair.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for the rest of your rain day?” I ask. I would normally make eye contact in the mirror with my client, but not this time. No, this time I keep my focus on running the towel over his hair, making sure it’s dry before I pull out the clippers. When he doesn’t reply, I’m forced to look up. I find his intense stare on me through the mirror.

  “Nothing much, really.”

  “No hot date tonight?” Carol asks from her station that is right next to mine.

  My head whips around as I give her a glare that tells her she’s stepped out of line. She, nor her client, seem to notice or care. I avoid looking at him while I hold my breath waiting for his reply.

  He chuckles. “Nope. No hot date.”

  My shoulders relax at his admission. I need to get a grip. He’s not mine. He’s free to date whomever he wants

  “You should join us,” Brenda pipes up from her station next to Carol. “We’re all headed to Bottoms Up tonight for drinks. We try to do it a couple of times a month. The more, the merrier.” She smiles.

  His eyes find mine in the mirror. “You going?” he asks me.

  I nod. “Yeah, it’s become somewhat of a tradition.” He holds my stare. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but he must find it. He gives me a subtle nod.

  “I’ll be there,” he says the words, answering her question, but his eyes are on me.

  “Great. Seven o’clock,” Brenda informs him.

  I ignore the way the butterflies take flight, knowing he’ll be there. Anytime I get to spend with Tyler is a plus in my book. Unless, what if he brings someone, a female someone? What if he flirts with or goes home with one of the girls? The butterflies quickly turn to lead.

  “Reagan.” I feel his hand over mine.

  Shaking out of my thoughts, I realize I’m standing here staring into space, my hands gripping his shoulders through the cape.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just thinking about some supplies I need to order later.” I quickly cover up my mental freeze freak-out. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze then drops his arm back to rest on the chair. I give him a big “I’m good” smile and get busy cutting his hair and trimming around his neck.

  “You’re all set,” I say, dusting off the cape and unfastening it from around his neck.

  He stands and runs his hands over his shaved head. My eyes drift to the corded muscles in his arms, arms that are covered in intricate ink. My mouth waters. Men that look like Tyler Justice should be outlawed.

  “Thanks, Reagan.” He leans in and kisses my cheek.

  My heart skips in my chest. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but the effect is no less intoxicating feeling his lips against my skin, his scent surrounding me. I’m turned on, and it’s only ten in the morning. I have the rest of the day to go. I need a distraction.

  “You’re welcome,” I finally remember to reply.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not happening, sweetheart.”

  “You spent your free time helping me with shelving and the cabinet, not to mention my bookshelf. That’s the least I can do.”

  “You made me dinner,” he says in his deep husky voice.

  “And now I’m giving you a free haircut.”

  He opens his mouth to argue when Carol pipes up. “Her tip jar is on the desk. Our names are on them,” she offers.

  “Carol,” I hiss at her.

  She shrugs and goes back to working on the perm she’s doing. “That’s not necessary.”

  “You either take the tip, or drinks are on me tonight.”

  “Oh, honey,” Mrs. Marks says from under the dryer that apparently has just turned off. “You never say no when a man hands you money.”

  “He did me a favor. I’m just repaying it.”

  “This.” Tyler holds up a wad of money. “Or drinks are on me tonight. Take your pick.”

  “Drinks,” Mrs. Marks says. “It’s always polite if the man pays on a date. I’m old school like that. My Hank always paid even after we were married, and the money came from the same place.”

  Tyler smirks. “Drinks it is. I’ll see you tonight at seven.” He turns and walks out of the salon. My eyes trail him the entire time.

  “Oh, he’s a cutie,” Mrs. Marks says. “You need to snatch that one up.”

  “What was that?” I turn with my hands on my hips, facing Carol and Brenda.

  “Nothing,” they say at the same time.

  Mrs. Marks takes the seat Tyler was just in. “He even smells yummy,” she says, not caring who hears her.

  “I know,” I confess. I get busy removing the curlers from her hair as she lists all the reasons I should, as she calls it, “pursue” Tyler. I don’t tell her I’ve thought the same thing a thousand times over the last couple of months. I don’t tell her that I think about him all the time or that my body seems to have a mind of its own anytime he’s near. Instead, I let her talk. I nod where appropriate, all the while wondering what it would be like to be his.

  Chapter 4

  Tyler

  * * *

  Bottoms Up is packed tonight. This is my stomping grounds. Me and the guys have been coming here since we were old enough to drink. Maybe even a time or two before that, but I’ll plead the fifth on that. It’s not very often I walk through these doors alone. There’s usually at least two of us, if not all of us getting together to grab a beer. I started to call Kent and Seth to see if they wanted to come with me, but I didn’t. Hell, I very well might run into them. I know Ridge is at home with his family tonight, and Mark mentioned seeing if he could get Dawn to go out to dinner. I’m not sure what’s going on with the two of them. I’ve not asked him, because turnabout is fair play. I’m not prepared to answer questions about Reagan and how I feel about her.

  Don’t get me wrong. I know exactly how I feel about her. I’m just not sure how to handle it. I don’t exactly hide it, and if Ridge or the guys were to a
sk me, I’d tell them. Straight up, no lies. But until that time comes, I’ll continue to attempt to fly under the radar. Not poking and prodding about their relationships is a good way to do that.

  Scanning the room, I find her immediately. Her long hair is pulled up in a ponytail exposing her long slender neck. A neck which I’ve fantasized about many times. She’s wearing a tank top and a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts. She’s just Reagan, no pretenses. There is nothing fake about her, which makes me even more attracted to her.

  Honest beauty.

  I don’t stop at the bar to get a drink. I don’t even acknowledge people I know, people I’ve grown up with, have known for years. No, all I see is her. I need to get to her, let her know I’m here. Sit as close to her as I can without giving myself away. Soak up as much Reagan time as I can. I’m like a fucking sponge when it comes to her.

  “Hey,” I say, leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ear. It’s loud in here. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. It has nothing to do with being close to her or getting a dose of her fruity scent. One I can’t seem to put my finger on. I think it’s all the products she uses at her salon. Whatever it is, it’s uniquely Reagan.

  “You made it,” she says, turning to look at me.

  I pull the empty seat beside her out and make it my own. I don’t plan on leaving her side all night. “You started without me, I see,” I tease, pointing to the mixed drink sitting in front of her.

  “We’ve only been here maybe five minutes.” She points across the table. “Carol ordered us all sex on the beach.”

  Just hearing the word sex leave her lips has my cock rising to the occasion. Thankfully, the table covers my lap. “I see that.” Her smile is genuine, as if she’s really happy to see me. I think she is; in fact, I’m sure of it. We’ve been dancing around this attraction for months. One of us has to make a move, but I need to talk to Ridge before I do. It’s the right thing to do.

  “You want some?” she asks.