Page 97 of Wish I Might
“I don’t usually take weekend bookings, but I can make it work.”Sawyer’s phone buzzed in his pocket.“And that’s my ride.”
Figuring that was his cue to leave, Nash rose.“You’ll get back to me on the fee?”
“Give us a day or two.”Sawyer rose to walk Nash to the door.
“No problem.”On the threshold, Nash turned.Thiago and Ava had both risen and stepped forward, and the three of them standing together formed a diverse and beautiful unit.“Thank you all for meeting me.I really appreciate it.”
“It was our pleasure,” Thiago said.
“Or will be,” Ava said, and Thiago sighed.
“You just can’t help yourself.”
Sawyer just grinned.“See you later, Nash.”
“Later,” he echoed and stepped off the porch onto the steps, the door closing behind him.
The SUV that had dropped Sawyer off sat idling at the curb behind his car, and this time he could see the woman behind the wheel.Another beauty, with a wildly curling mane of red hair, she sent him a jaunty wave as he walked to his car.
He waved back, amused, then climbed into his car, cranked the AC, and drove away.
When he got home, he stretched out on his bed, already working on a plan.He had a week to get Bailey ready for this, and he intended to use every moment of it to drive her wild.
* * * *
Bailey let herself into the house at six-thirty, ready to eat and collapse, in that order.Or not—thanks to delivery, she could collapse first, then eat.But then she’d have decide what to order, and she’d had enough decision-making for one day.
She loved her job, she really did.Owning her own salon had been her dream since she was a teenager, and she’d suffered through four years of college for a business degree to prove to her parents that she could do it.But some days she really wished she wasn’t the boss.
Leaving her purse and shoes by the front door, she trudged into the kitchen for a beer.
She pulled it out of the fridge, popped the top, and drank.With the first cold, crisp sip under her belt, she peered into the still-open fridge to see what she could eat.
There was deli meat and bread, so she could make herself a sandwich.But that didn’t sound good.She briefly considered a salad—she had cucumbers about to go bad—then shook her head.Too much chopping, and she was out of her favorite dressing anyway.
Chicken nuggets, she thought, shutting the fridge and opening the freezer.But when she opened the bag, there were only three left, and that just wasn’t enough.
Disappointed, she put the bag back and shut the freezer door and with her beer, shuffled back to the living room to collapse on the couch.
She was still lying there ten minutes later, wondering if she had the energy to get up for another beer, when Nash came through the front door.
“Thank God, you’re home.”Keeping her eyes shut—the dark was so peaceful—she held up the empty bottle.“Can you get me another one of these?”
His warm chuckle reached her ears a second before the click of the front door closing.“How do you know it’s me?”
“I don’t know, I just did.”She waggled the bottle back and forth.“Please?I had a shit day.”
“Poor baby,” he mocked, his voice coming closer, and she would’ve stuck her tongue out if he hadn’t plucked the bottle from her hand.“What happened?”
Satisfied that her second beer was on the way, she wiggled deeper into the couch cushions.“I had to break up a fight between two of my stylists.”
He whistled, low and long.“Over what?”
“Meg’s client decided she liked Jeni better, and switched.”
“Uh-oh.That happen a lot?”
“Not often, but sometimes, sure.It sucks, but you just have to roll with it.”
