Page 44 of Whatever You Want

“I wasn’t paying attention and used the wrong attachment,” she said with a straight face while holding up the razor.

“Ava, I swear to God, you better not be fucking with me.” That earned me a dirty look from the elderly lady in tight curlers next to me.

She burst into a fit of giggles. I spun around in the chair, no longer waiting for her permission. When I looked in the mirror and felt the back of my head, I was relieved to feel nothing but hair on my scalp.

“You’re going to pay for that,” I said, standing up and pulling her into me by the hips. It was probably more PDA than she wanted, but I was taking advantage of the fact that she wasn’t pushing me away.

She patted my shoulder. “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

She had no idea how badly I wanted to kiss her. If we weren’t in a shop full of people, my tongue would already be down her throat.

“How much do I owe you for the haircut?”

She waved me off. “Free of charge.”

“How about dinner?” I offered up, hoping I wasn’t moving too fast for her. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, though I was feeling very uncertain with the way she blinked at me.

“Dinner?” she asked as if she had never heard that word before.

“I’d like to cook you a meal as a thank you, like you did for me when I helped you move.”

I also wouldn’t mind another make-out session on the couch, but I kept that thought to myself.

“But you can’t cook,” she blurted out and immediately blanched. “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that. Amelia already offered to babysit, so if that was your next excuse you’re out of luck.”

She crossed her arms and tried to act put off. “Why am I not surprised?”

“So, it’s a date?” I asked as the hairdryers and chatter stopped at once. The noisy salon went quiet. All eyes were on us as she took her time mulling over my invitation. My palms started to sweat while I waited for her answer. If she shot me down in front of these people, it would make things really awkward.

“If you don’t say yes, I will,” the older lady in the station next to us shouted. She looked to be as old as my grandmother.

“You better hurry up,” I chuckled, “you’ve got competition.”

Honestly, I never had to work so hard to get a woman to go out with me. Then again, this was Ava, so I expected nothing less.

“Okay.” She smiled, and it felt like I had just won The Nobel Peace Prize and found a cure for cancer all in one.

I shifted my car into park, and turned off the engine. Logan’s house was nothing like I pictured. It was tiny, in a rundown neighborhood. The outside, however, was immaculate, which didn’t surprise me, considering how much he loved the outdoors. He probably spent every ounce of his free time, doing yardwork.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, thinking about the text messages we exchanged today. We tried to fit in a lunch date earlier in the week, but we couldn’t make it happen between our work and parenting schedules. So, we settled on FaceTiming and late-night phone calls every chance we got. Sometimes he was out in the field working on a case; other times, I was at the salon or just settling down for the night. No matter what, we just couldn’t seem to get our schedules to align until tonight.

I pulled down the visor and glimpsed at my reflection in the mirror, fixing a few flyaway strands of hair. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight, but I prepared myself regardless. I shaved in all the important places, especially the spots I’ve neglected over the past year and a half. I gave my outfit extra thought as I mulled over my options earlier, deciding on a pair of curve-hugging jeans that gave my backside a little extra lift. Logan was always staring at it, so I made that a priority. Now, I just need to find the courage and walk up the front steps.

My phone buzzed in the cupholder. I picked it up and laughed when I read the message.

Logan: Are you planning on coming in tonight, or should I bring your dinner out to the car?

I slipped my phone into my purse and stepped out onto the driveway. My heart seemed to pound harder with each step I took toward his house.

The front door opened, and I was greeted with a soft smile that immediately put me at ease. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thanks for having me.” I adjusted the strap of my purse along my shoulder.

He angled his head, brushing his lips across the corner of my mouth. “Come on in, I’ll give you the grand tour, which should take about five seconds.”

He stepped back to let me enter. His familiar scent lingered in the air as I passed by.

---