Page 20 of The Grand Duel

I watch as Bronwyn internally panics.

“You know I don’t mind a bit of fuzz, baby,” Christian hums into Iona’s ear.

I smile at them and their cuteness.

“You think I get my forearms waxed for your benefit?”

He chuckles and holds her coat open.

“You get your forearms waxed?” I ask.

“Uh-huh. I get pretty much everything waxed.”

I smooth my hand over the hairs on my arm. “Does it not grow back worse?”

“In some areas no, others yes. Probably depends on the person.” She takes her bag and looks up at me as she frees her trapped hair from the coat. “Although you know that already. You have beautiful skin, Jovie. Where do you go for your brows?”

“I do them myself.”

“What?” She leans in to get a closer look in the dimly lit bar area. “You tint them?”

“Yep. I found and fell in love with my wax pot at age fourteen.” My mum thought it might help with the girls at school.

“Maybe I need to learn to do it myself. My lady charges me a fortune.”

“I’ll wax you,” I tell her. “I used to wax my sister when she lived here.”

“Has anyone seen Eve?” Bronwyn interrupts. “Is she late?”

“Haven’t seen her. Everything okay?” Christian asks, noticing the panic only visible to someone paying attention.

“Everything is fine.” Bronwyn discreetly surveys the crowd and nods. “I’ll sort it.” She shimmies past us.

“Do you not go short on numbers often?” I ask Christian once she’s gone.

“Never,” he tells me. “There’s a virus going around.”

Iona sighs and pulls off her jacket with a sigh. “A rare win for hairy vaginas. Let Bronwyn know I’ll switch my Sunday.”

I chuckle and quickly pour her a shot of tequila—her favourite—and hand it to her. “Your one.”

“Thanks, babe.”

She downs it and hands me her drink token before heading towards the stairs that lead to the changing rooms.

Iona has worked three of the five nights I have, and each time I’ve been left utterly mesmerised by the way she works.

I’m pretty sure the girl could make me fall in love with her.

I turn my head to look at Christian, finding his eyes exactly where I knew they’d be—on her back.

Their sexual tension is off the charts. I swear I get giddy just being in the same room as the two of them. I guess working around sexually charged humans all night long doesn’t help matters.

Christian eventually turns to look at me. “I have work to do, Shoes. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re imagining me naked.”