Page 56 of Something Forever

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” I cough awkwardly. “Go shave and shower. Now. I’ll do your hair after.”

He grins. “I didn’t realize you were so bossy. I think I like this side of you.”

I turn away and head to my room to gather my supplies. I haven’t cut hair in a few months, but I’m excited. I’ve been missing it. I get set up in the living room, and a few minutes later, Liam saunters into the room.

Shirtless.

He’s done as I asked, his face clean and his long, wet hair is matted against his neck. Without the beard, the sharp line of his jaw is even more clear. Avoiding his gaze, I gesture towards the chair for him to sit.

It’s quiet as I get started, the air thick and awkward between us as I run my hands through his wet hair.

“Don’t do it too short,” he barks out as soon as I start.

I roll my eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

He’s quiet. “Whatever you think looks good. Just don’t do it too short.”

Hiding a smile, I continue cutting at pieces of hair. As I run my hand along the nape of his neck, tugging his hair upwards, he lets out a small groan, halting my movements.

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath, then clears his throat. “What got you into cutting hair?”

I hesitate for a moment, unsure how much more to reveal about my upbringing and where this dream started.

“My mom and I were really close when I was a kid. It was just the two of us, and we never really had roots anywhere. We basically lived out of our van, driving from place to place whenever my mom got bored or followed a new guy she was seeing.” I slide my fingers through his hair, trimming off a few more stray pieces. “Anyway, like I told you, whenever we’d roll into a new town, she’d drop me off at some strip mall while she went to work. Eventually, I found that a lot of the salons would let me sit inside when it was hot outside. I’d watch the ladies do haircuts and nails, and I’d see the way people’s faces would light up, how beautiful they felt afterwards, and I wanted to make people feel like that.

“The salons were the only place where I could forget about life for a moment, and just feel connected to other people. Being on the road was lonely for me. My mom thrived on that energy, on the spontaneity and never knowing what came next. But as I got older, I couldn’t stand it. I just wanted to have roots somewhere. To have friends and feel stable. You can probably tell I’m a little obsessed with staying organized.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You? Obsessed? Never,” he jokes.

I hold up the scissors. “Don’t make fun of the woman who currently holds your fate in her hands.”

He holds his hands up innocently. “Kidding. Please don’t take it out on my scalp.”

“I make no promises.”

He chuckles, and it’s quiet for a moment. “So,” he continues, “you’ve wanted this for a while, then?”

“Pretty much since I was a teenager. I never thought it would be possible.”

I finish the last of his hair, brushing stray strands off the back of his neck. Stepping in front of him, I lean over, holding his front pieces to compare the lengths. I feel his gaze on my face, and my eyes wander to meet his. My mouth parts slightly, my fingers brushing gently against his pulse point on his neck as my hands fall to my side. A shiver runs through me, desire sparking low in my stomach.

“You’re all done,” I announce, stepping back to put some much-needed distance between us. “Go look in the mirror. If you hate it, don’t tell me, please.”

“I’m going to love it,” he tells me, standing. He squeezes my arm. “Go get ready, too. I’ll meet you out here in a few minutes.”

Realizing we’re running low on time, I get ready quickly. I don’t want to be the reason Liam is late, so I grab a clutch purse and rush out to meet him in the living room. His brown hair is tucked behind his ears, short and styled, and his suit hugs him in all the right places. His muscles strain against the tight material, and just the outline alone is enough to make me falter in my step, but I manage to stay upright as I approach him with a nervous breath.

“Hi,” I breathe out.

He looks up, his eyes widening as he takes me in. He takes a slight step back, and I watch as his gaze falls down to the hem of my dress, scanning me from head to toe and sending a flush through me. His throat bobs, and I watch the muscles on his neck strain against the movement. When he meets my eyes again, his brow is furrowed and his mouth downturned.

He clears his throat, blinking. “You look… nice.”

It’s hard to stop my eyes from narrowing.

Nice?