Page 14 of Fate on the Ice

Walking into the salon, I’m assaulted by the scent of… well… girl. I couldn’t describe them all, even if I wanted to. I don’t know what the fuck is happening in here between dyes, chemicals, shampoos, and creams.

Brooklynn’s face is the first one I see, which disappoints me because I want to see Grace, but I try not to show said discouragement. She gives me a big smile and tilts her head to the side, her gaze searching mine.

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to let me cut your hair?” she cries out excitedly.

I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends. It’s scraggly and long and needs to be cut. “Better cut it now before the first game starts. Maybe give me a clean shave, too, if you can?” I ask.

“I think I might faint. Better yet, maybe I should call everyone over to watch.”

I let out a laugh. “First of all, it’s not that bad. Secondly, it’s not that bad.”

Brooklynn smiles, shaking her head a couple of times, and then she takes a step toward me. “You’re right. It’s not that bad. It’s just not often one of our boys comes into the salon.”

Shaking my head, I let out a grunt and walk over to her station, sinking down in her chair. Before she says a single word to me, I hear a door open and close in the back of the room. Following the sound, I lift my gaze and turn slightly toward the back of the salon. I watch as the object of my desire moves toward me, then stops.

Her eyes widen, her lips part, and my heart fucking stops beating in my chest at the sight of her. I want to pick her up, carry her to the back room, and fuck her—hard. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before, and I don’t even know her last name.

“Grace, can you help me out here?” Brooklynn calls out, but her eyes are on mine, and she gives me a wink.

If nothing else, Brooklynn likes to play matchmaker, and I’m good with that in this case. I want the match to be made, sealed, and fucking delivered—with my dick.

“Sure,” she whispers.

She dips her chin, and I can see the pink on her cheeks. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I try to hide my smile, but I can’t. She shifts her feet from side to side, obviously nervous, and I like that, too.

“Can you get the men’s shaving kit? It’s in the back, in my cupboard,” Brooklynn asks.

Grace spins around, and I tilt my head to the side so I can watch her walk to the back of the room. What a great fucking view. Brooklynn hums, which ends with a giggle. I grunt and turn my head to look up at her.

“You should ask her out,” Brooklynn says. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s completely single.”

I shrug a shoulder, unsure of how to tell her that I don’t think Grace wants me to ask her out. She hasn’t given me any green lights and is skittish as shit—which I happen to like. But I need a little something that tells me she’d say yes.

“I don’t think she’d go for it,” I admit.

Brooklynn smiles. “I think you’d be surprised.”

She doesn’t say anything else, and a moment later, Grace is back with the men’s shaving kit and clippers. Brooklynn thankfully changes the subject. She asks me about my lessons and practices and then about my family.

The entire time we talk, I can’t keep my gaze off Grace. She moves around the salon, cleaning, until Brooklynn asks me about my parents. She pauses with her duties, turns her head, and looks over to me. I flick my gaze from hers. For some reason, I don’t think she wants me to know that she’s listening to this part of the conversation.

“My mother calls me at least every other day, you know that. She still won’t fly, and she wants to know when I’m going to come and visit them. My dad’s birthday is in a couple of months. She wants me to come up there to celebrate.”

“You should,” Brooklynn says.

I’m not sure exactly how to respond to that. I should probably go and visit my parents. Life isn’t something that is promised. I could be gone tomorrow, or they could be. Hell if anyone knows what is or isn’t promised tomorrow.

Brooklyn continues to cut my hair, then my beard, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror when she’s finished. I’m completely unrecognizable. I haven’t looked this young since I was in high school.

Lifting my hand, I rub it across my jaw and chin, feeling the smooth skin of my face. I can’t believe this is my face. I’d forgotten what I looked like beneath the hair. It’s been a while.

“Grace, come and look at Otto’s baby face,” Brooklynn calls out.

A few moments later, Grace appears, and her eyes widen the instant I turn to face her. “Oh my,” she breathes.

Brooklynn’s laugh fills the space, but then she backs away. She doesn’t have to because she disappears no matter where she is in the room—when Grace is in front of me, the whole world vanishes.

“Takes a few years off, right?” I ask.

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