Page 76 of Saved By My Buyers

“The agreement was downtown Detroit isn’t safe once the sun goes down, and traffic and parking are a bitch. Therefore, it’s easier for me to drop you off and pick you up to avoid unfavorable experiences with the local homeless.”

Smugly, he turns on the car and puts it in reverse as he awaits Bronwyn’s retort. We both know she’ll have something to say about it.

“The homeless man was one time,” she says, but she’s trying hard not to laugh. “He scared the fuck out of me.”

“What happened?” I ask, turning in my seat.

“I was coming home late, the night I first spoke to you actually, and I parked farther than normal,” she explains.

“I called her, because I didn’t register where she said she parked, when we spoke during her break,” Jack grumbles as he drives out of the underground lot. “The walk to the Ninth Street garage isn’t the best. “

“It’s not,” Bronwyn sighs. “So I pretty much ran to my car, but when I went to pull out of the spot I was in, there was a man peeking into my back window. I screamed, and had to lay on the horn to get him to back up. It was really scary.”

“It didn’t sit well with me, so I picked her up from her next late class to drive her to her car. After that I decided that if it was a late anything, I was just going to drive her,” Jack says.

“He rearranged his whole damn life,” Bronwyn hisses as if he can’t hear her.

“I think it’s sweet,” I tell her, smiling. “I’ve seen the growly Jack my whole life. He’s possessive, grumpy, and practically feral.”

“I’m not a bear, Dolly,” he mutters as he pulls into street parking in front of a business. It appears to be an upscale hair salon.

“Don’t these places require an appointment?” I ask wryly, getting out anyway.

Standing on the sidewalk with me, he nods. “Danik Embers had a really bad run in with a gang who decided that they were suddenly homophobic,” he explains. “Greg, my business partner, helped him disappear. I have a feeling he’ll be receptive. Danik also won’t fuck up your hair.”

With those inspiring words, he strides forward, opening the salon door for us. A woman with sleek, beautiful platinum-blonde hair is at the desk, appearing bored as we walk in. Gazing at us with an unimpressed, fake smile, she asks, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Nope,” Jack says with a wide smile. It takes the woman by surprise, and she shakes her head uncertainly. “Is Danik here by chance?”

“Jack?” a man asks, coming out of the back of the salon. It’s empty, apparently he’s getting ready to close, and I begin to chew on my lip anxiously. “Hey, this is a surprise. What’s going on?”

“I need a little hair help,” Jack says, pushing me forward.

“She’s gorgeous,” Danik gushes, moving forward to start unraveling my braid in excitement. “There’s some dead ends. Hmm, when’s the last time you had a hair cut, beautiful?”

“Over four years,” I say. He’s larger than life, and I can’t even find it in myself to be annoyed as he looks critically at my hair. “I need to look not like me.”

My voice is small and quiet as I say this, and he freezes as he listens to me.

“Seriously, Jack?” he asks, swallowing hard. If anyone else had said that they didn’t want to look like themselves, the other person would think of a full makeover, but not Danik.

“As a heart attack,” Jack grunts. “She said she’s worried about looking like a chia pet.”

Danik looks scandalized, and the pinched look makes me grin. This is fun to watch.

“Oh, fuck no,” he yells. “Moira, lock the front door, we’re closed for the rest of the day. You can go. I don’t have any more appointments today.”

Nodding, the girl at the desk grabs her things and locks up before disappearing out to the back room.

“Who did you piss off, honey?” Danik asks as he begins to march me to his station.

“I think I pissed off the fates at birth,” I grumble, sitting down.

“Hmm,” he says, getting to work. “We’re looking to change your look, what if we cut but also did a little color? This is virgin hair, right?”

I blink stupidly at him, confused. Can he tell I’m a virgin? God, is that a thing?!

Danik snickers, shaking his head. “You know you talk when you don’t realize it?” he asks. I groan, willing the ground to open up. “No, I meant that your hair has never had any color in it before, right?”

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