Page 45 of Caught from Behind

“—and then I have a couple of other clients before Donna comes in for her weekly appointment to finish out my day.”

“Who’s Donna?”

Her face softens.

My heart starts to thud against my rib cage.

And then Ella gives me another piece of herself.

Because she tells me all about Donna.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ella

“Try one of these, honey,” Donna says, offering me a cookie. “George said they might even be better than my chocolate chip.”

“Blasphemy,” I tell her lightly, but I’m not the type of girl to turn down a cookie, and especially not one of Donna’s, so I snag one from the container and take a big bite.

Flavor explodes on my tongue—salty and sweet, peanut butter and chocolate chip, sea salt and just a hint of caramel.

“Oh. My. God,” I moan.

Her smile widens. “I see that George may be right.”

“More than right,” I tell her, shoving the rest of the delicious baked good in my mouth. “He’s a genius.”

Donna giggles. “I’ll edit that so it doesn’t go to his head.”

I wink, steal another cookie, and salute her with it. “Wise woman. Now,” I tell her, “I need to hear all about George and how he suddenly gets to have an opinion about your cookies.”

Pink on Donna’s cheeks, but it looks good on her. Especially when it’s paired with a brightness in her eyes, and a joy to her words.

Grinning, my gaze goes to Tammy’s, who’s busy with her own client (who’s also munching on one of Donna’s yummy cookies), but we exchange a nod of job-well-done.

Matchmaking powers leveled up.

I make sure Donna’s sleek bob is perfectly coiffed for her dinner with George tonight—why she came in late in the afternoon instead of her typical morning slot—and I’m so focused on the task at hand that I don’t realize the bell over the door has rung, don’t realize that Kit, who’s manning the front desk like usual, has gone still and silent.

Eventually, though, I process that the blow dryer next to me has turned off, that the salon is almost silent.

Frowning, I turn around?—

And Riggs is standing just inside the door.

Riggs.

The juxtaposition is almost comical.

Big, bearded hockey player meets the soft white, lavender, and gold of the salon.

Tattoos and sweatpants versus color-coded products and samples of hair extensions.

Both sights are beautiful in their own right…

But I only want to fuck one.

Okay, fine. I only want to fuck Riggs. Like maybe forever.

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