Page 104 of Caught from Behind

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

Then scowls again. “What are you?” he mutters. “A fucking fortune cookie?”

“Nope,” I tell him cheerfully, “just a woman with a dad who’s not in my life.” I sip my beer, the cool liquid soothing the burn that truth elicits.

“Why isn’t?—”

“Ella!”

I crane my neck to the left and see Evie waving at me, her shock of red hair so bright it’s almost fluorescent.

Saved by the child.

“I’ll be right back, Todd-o-Rama.”

“Who’s that?”

“Evie,” I wave back and push to my feet. “She’s the daughter of the Sierra’s trainer, Ivy.”

Ivy is…well, I’ve only met her a handful of times in person since she’s a single mom who’s busy with her job and her kiddo, but she’s…scary.

And coming from me?

That’s fucking scary.

Evie, on the other hand, is a bright spot of sweet exuberance.

“A woman as a trainer,” Todd sniffs. “The world nowadays doesn’t make any sense. Now, even though you’re far too outspoken, at least you do something that befits the female race.”

I freeze, rage skating down my spine.

But when I look at him, I see it in his eyes.

He’s fucking with me.

I pat his arm. “Nice try, Todd-o-Rama,” I say. “But you know as well as I do that men can make excellent hairstylists too.”

He grins, and shaking my head I leave him, I cross the rest of the way through the row and make my way down to Evie. “Hey, good lookin’,” I say, smoothing a hand over her hair and immediately getting to work with the part. “The same as usual?” I ask.

Wide brown eyes, so much like her mom’s, come to mine. “Can you do two braids today?”

“Sure thing, Evie girl,” I say, pulling a couple of hair ties out of my pocket (because what kind of hairstylist would I be without extra hair ties on hand at all times). I make quick work of her hair, plaiting it into two pigtails and securing the ends, and then because I’m me and I knew that Evie would be here tonight, I reach into my jacket and extract the bows I ordered for her.

Navy, forest green, and Tahoe blue, they’re accented with plenty of sparkles.

“Whoa,” she whispers.

“They’re epic, right?”

She grins. “Totally epic! Can I have glitter too?”

“What’s the world without glitter?”

“Boring!” she declared, making me laugh.

“Exactly,” I tell her, spraying a bit in her hair before capping the container.

“Can you do mine next?” a little boy with shoulder-length locks asks.

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