Page 105 of Captivating Anika

I had a slice of white toast, fruit salad from a can, and a watery substance that didn’t deserve to be labelled coffee at the hospital, all of which has long worn off.

“I’m starving, and I would do anything for a decent cup of coffee,” I admit.

Hog snaps his fingers. “I almost forgot. One second.”

He moves to the front hall, shoves his feet into his shoes, and walks out the door. A few moments later he’s back, lugging my espresso machine from the salon.

“You’re crazy,” I tell him, all the while melting at his thoughtfulness.

He shoves my toaster aside and parks the espresso machine on my kitchen counter.

“No use having it sit idle at the salon when no one is going to be there to enjoy it,” he points out.

He and Mom pushed for me to close the Chop Shop for at least a week. Their arguments are valid, with me out of commission for a bit, and Monique behind bars, we have a very lean crew left.

However, I’m not sure how long I can keep paying my employees without any revenue coming in. I also don’t want to risk losing any more goodwill from my customers.

For the time being, I agreed to closing half the week. We have Kim’s funeral tomorrow, I’ll have Tuesday and Wednesday to try and find yet another hairdresser—although maybe two part-time ones would give some more flexibility—and then we could open up for Thursday, Friday, and a full instead of half a day on Saturday.

This morning, after the doctor dropped in and made it clear having a hole in your muscle is not something that you recover from in a few days, I realized I might need that week after all. It looks like it’ll take a lot longer than I’d hoped for me to be able to cut hair again. That means I’ll need to rework my budget and my business format to find a way I can make that work.

“Keep your fingers crossed I don’t blow it up,” Hog announces from the kitchen, over the noise of the coffee grinder.

Zeke is wandering over to check out the new noise, while Ryder is hiding under my feet, between the chair and the ottoman.

“How does grilled cheese sound?” he asks a few minutes later, as he proudly presents me with a flawlessly executed cup of coffee.

“Perfect,” I tell him as I grab on to his arm before he can get away. “But do you know what I’d really like first?”

I grin up at him, and he immediately leans over, bracing his arms on the armrests on either side of me. One side of his mouth is hitched up.

“What is that?”

“A proper kiss. Haven’t had one in days.”

He’s limited me to light brushes of lips and friendly pecks, maybe afraid of breaking me. But I’m done with that. I want to feel him, taste him.

“Don’t question me,” I warn him when it looks like he’s about to do just that.

I reach up with my good hand and grab him by the short hairs of his beard, tugging him down. When he’s within reach, I lift my mouth to his and loop my arm around his neck.

That wonderful, warm, melty feeling settles deep in my belly when his tongue slides between my lips. A moan escapes me, and I feel his lips smile. He kisses me slowly, but thoroughly, and soon I’m no longer feeling any pain.

The sound of the doorbell breaks the spell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Hog

“The woman is a fucking psychopath.”

I’m keeping half an eye on Anika, but her mother is close by her side, making sure she doesn’t overdo it.

She’s been shaking hands and making small talk since we left the graveside. We’re still at the cemetery in a small hall used specifically for funeral receptions. Anika hadn’t expected many people, and seemed pleasantly surprised at the number of hair salon customers who showed up.

“Not telling me anything new,” I comment to Evans.

He joined me in the quiet corner of the room I’d retreated to a few minutes ago, and I’m guessing he’s talking about Monique and not Anika. He never made it over to the house yesterday afternoon—he called and said he got caught up in another case—but he’d connect with us today.

---